


Found

by ficdirectory



Series: Disuphere series [5]
Category: The Fosters (TV 2013)
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Brain Injury, Cerebral Palsy, Child Abuse, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Depression, Disability, Disuphere Universe, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Siblings, Racism, Self-Harm, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-01-05 09:00:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 205
Words: 472,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18362831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficdirectory/pseuds/ficdirectory
Summary: Francesca and Mariana Adams Foster return home from their visit to Minnesota and face the reality of their home life.  Fran needs information about who she is and Mariana comes face to face with her past.





	1. Pluto

It’s so different after the cabin.

 

Like, when Francesca and Mari get back?  It’s all decorated for Mom and Mom’s friend, Jenna’s birthday.  They have to go all the way into the back yard to even be noticed by Mom and Mama at all.

 

Mama turns from where she’s decorating and says: “Make sure to put your laundry in the laundry room to wash, okay?”

 

Francesca sighs and turns to walk inside the house.

 

“Wait.  Come back here, please.  Did you have fun?” Mama asks.

 

Fran glances at Mari.  

 

“Yes,” they say together.  

 

Moms so don’t understand.  Fun isn’t the right word for this.  Fun is light and weak and airy and silly.  Their trip was important. It was the first time ever that Francesca felt one-hundred percent okay just being her.  And that she got to be around people who accepted her. Who saw her. And who loved her. All at the same time.

 

Then they stand there and it’s super awkward.  Mike’s in the yard and Brandon’s not even here.  Just seeing that makes tears come to Francesca’s eyes.

 

“I’m gonna go unpack,” Francesca says.  She goes to the laundry room and gets a giant blue hamper and slides it into their room for dirty clothes.  

 

Mariana’s just sitting on her bed.

 

“Do you want me to put your dirty clothes in there so Moms don’t yell at you?” Fran asks.

 

“Yeah.  Thanks.” Mariana answers.  Then she just crawls into bed under the blankets.  Francesca kinda wants to do the same. But the bed’s not really big enough for both of them anymore.  Not like it used to be when Francesca was little.

 

Francesca can’t really believe it when she sees Mari just reach up and turn off the intercom like no big deal.

 

“Are you allowed to do that?” Francesca asks.

 

“I just did it,” Mariana points out.

 

“I know.  But like...won’t Moms get mad?”

 

“It’s been over a year.  I’ve been off my anti-seizure stuff for a month.  Nothing. So, there’s no reason…” Mariana’s voice is muffled.

 

Francesca gives up digging for dirty clothes halfway into her own suitcase.  She crawls into her own bed and falls asleep right away. She really did miss her bed.

 

\--

 

Jude barges in and wakes them up.  It feels like the middle of the night, but it’s really only 6 PM.  “Hey. Come on. Party time. Wake up. Or did you guys party too much at Grandpa’s?”

 

“I’m eleven. Get out.  Don’t you even know about boundaries?” Francesca mutters, irritated.

 

Mariana doesn’t move.  Francesca eyes her warily.  Gets out of bed and leaves the light off.  Locks the door so no other people can bug her and then goes downstairs.  (Every time she holds onto the railing and walks on the stairs she thinks about Jesus and accommodations and The Avoiders.  Jesus will be at Mom’s birthday. It makes Francesca wish Dominique could be there, too.)

 

“I got them up, but only Cranky Frankie’s here,” Jude passes along.  Brandon cackles. It’s his fault her whole family calls her that.

 

“Shut up!” Francesca shouts at Jude.

 

“Hey,” Mama says sharply.  “If this is the kind of attitude I can expect after Mom and I let you vacation with your brother and sister for a week, we’ll remember it for next time…”

 

“But he knows I hate that name!” Francesca whines.

 

“Frankie.  It’s just words.  Sticks and stones, remember?” Callie says.

 

She crosses her arms.  Jenna’s here already and her and Mom are laughing and being loud and embarrassing.  They call Francesca over to them. There are about a million of Jenna’s friends in the yard, too.  It looks like every present on the table out here is for Jenna, too. It’s a good thing Mom has a big family so she can get some stuff, too.

 

“I can’t believe she’s already so big,” Jenna says, like Francesca’s not right in front of her.  “I think it was just yesterday, wasn’t it? That you and I were reeling over Lena wanting to carry a baby when you already had four kids?”

 

“--Five,” Mom interjects.

 

Jenna waves a hand like Jesus isn’t important.  She laughs. “Five! Okay. And that made it even more unbelievable, right?”

 

Francesca reaches in her fanny pack for Mom’s half of a card she made at the cabin.  It’s buried under all the positive Post-Its from The Avoiders. She imagines a magic spell getting put on the words so they all talk to her from the fanny pack, in her friends’ voices, telling her all the good things about herself:

 

“ _ Mediator, Sloth-Speed Shopping, Original _ …”

 

“You can say that again,” Mom remarks, taking another drink of her wine.  “God knows I never wanted a  _ sixth _ kid…”

 

Francesca’s mouth drops open, but she closes it fast.  Forces a smile and holds out the card. Too late, she remembers that she forgot to rip it in half.  To give half as the card, and the other half later as just a letter. She gulps.

 

“Here.  Happy birthday, Mom.”

 

“Aw, thank you, Frankie,” Mom says opening the card and reading.  It’s like somebody came and did the Locomotor Mortis curse on her (which really just feels like if her CP spread to both legs at once.)  She can’t move except what she has to do to keep herself from falling over.

 

Mom reads the card and it’s like her smile freezes on her face.  “We’ll talk about this later, okay, honey?”

 

The voice Mom uses sounds so fake that all Francesca’s insides sink.  She’s in big trouble.

 

\--

 

When Jesus and Dudley get there, Francesca feels better.  More protected. She stays close by them and they don’t even mind.  She hugs Jesus like she didn’t just see him hours ago. He hugs her like he really missed her, too.  She asks if she can stay with him at the party. If they can hold hands.

 

“Sure, buddy.  Like old times, right?” he asks.

 

“What do you mean?” she wonders.

 

“When you were little, we held hands a lot,” Jesus points out.

 

Francesca sighs.  Wishes she could remember that.  But it was so long ago. She only remembers little bits of things.  A Doc McStuffins mobile clinic. Eating macaroni and cheese. And some scary memories of going back to have a surgery all alone.  And falling down those huge cabin steps.

 

When Dudley lays down by Jesus’s chair, Francesca lies down on him, after asking Jesus (and Dudley) if it’s okay.  Jesus says it is. Dudley smiles and doesn’t look nervous or move away. She uses his belly as a pillow. Wraps her arms around him.

 

Jesus gets up to go tell Mom something and Francesca goes, too.  She thinks he’s probably just going to say happy birthday and give her a hug but he stops a little ways away from her.  Steps closer to Dudley. In front of Francesca, like he’s guarding her. Francesca wonders what’s wrong.

 

“You’re drunk,” Jesus accuses.  “Mom, after all this time… You know how that messes with my trauma…”

 

Dudley is in front of Jesus.  Jesus is still in front of Francesca, holding tight to her hand.

 

“Honey, it’s a party.  Lighten up,” Mom urges.

 

“I don’t feel safe right now,” Jesus says, lowering his voice so only Mom can hear it.

 

Mom lowers her own voice and steps close to Jesus:

 

“And I don’t appreciate you judging me and my friends.”

 

“Jeez,” Jenna says, when Mom turns back to her.  “He could use a little…” Jenna holds her glass up, like she’s going to clink it against Mom’s.  “He’s legal right? I mean, you’re not gonna arrest me for offering alcohol to a minor or something…”

 

Francesca peeks around Jesus.  His eyes are dark. A little blank.  He shakes his head and backs up.

 

“Let’s go inside,” he tells her.

 

\--

 

They can barely manage to find a seat in the kitchen.  It’s super crowded, and loud, and Francesca’s glad Mariana’s not down here.  It’s probably super loud upstairs anyway, but Fran hopes not. 

 

Brandon, Talya, Callie, Ximena (Callie broke up with AJ) and Jude and Noah are all out here talking.  Mike’s here, too. And Mama. 

 

Seeing her, Francesca tries to slink away, and forgets she’s still holding Jesus’s hand.  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pull you, I just--”

 

“Jesus!  I was hoping to catch you!”

 

The suddenness and the loudness of the voice startles both of them.  Jesus first, and then Francesca, like they’re really some mega-person, connected by their hands.

 

Jenna.  

 

Ew.

 

Francesca scowls.  Feels Jesus squeeze her hand.  She squeezes back to say she’s not leaving.

 

“Brought you something,” Jenna smiles, offering him a glass with wine in it.  Francesca can see he looks blank. Stuck. Like he doesn’t know what to do. He tries to let go of her hand but Francesca hangs on - afraid that if she does let go - Jesus will feel like he has to take the wine.

 

“Uh, sorry, my hands are full,” he apologizes.

 

“She can walk by herself now, can’t she?” Jenna asks, not even looking at Francesca.

 

“Yes,” Francesca says back, offended.

 

“So, let go of baby sister and relax.  I wanted to pick your brain about some things.” Jenna says.

 

Jesus drops Francesca’s hand, but Fran moves in front of Jesus, taking the wine and offering it to Mama, saying, “Here, you like wine, right?” and giving it to Mama before following Jesus, Dudley and Jenna out to the living room where nobody is.  

 

Jenna sits on the couch.  Pats the empty space beside her.  Francesca checks on Jesus and his face.  He looks scared still. But she has to clap a hand over her own mouth to keep the laugh from bursting out when Jesus signals quietly, and Dudley jumps up on the couch beside Jenna.

 

“So, I couldn’t help but overhear.  You’re having kind of a hard time?” Jenna asks, breathing all of her wine breath on Dudley, trying to look around him to see Jesus.

 

“Yeah, but you know, it’s okay.” Jesus manages.

 

“Well, I think we both know that’s not true.  You get that drinking’s a normal part of celebrating for adults, right?” Jenna asks like Jesus doesn’t understand anything.

 

Francesca sort of wants to punch her.

 

Jenna keeps right on talking.  “Just because people are drinking near you, doesn’t mean anyone is gonna hurt you.”  (That same annoying voice. Grrr.)

 

“I know.”  
  


“Is this common?  For you to struggle like this?  Stef did mention that you’re not in therapy anymore.  I don’t mean to intrude, but maybe that would help?”

Francesca’s so mad she imagines steam coming out of her ears.  She wonders how Mom would like it if she told Jenna that Mom used to be in therapy, too, but she’s not anymore, either.  She wonders if Jenna would be the same amount of nosey with her.

“I’m...not talking about that right now…” Jesus hedges, looking like he’s trying really hard to keep his boundaries and stay present.

“Right.  Of course.  I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Maybe don’t ask rude questions then,” Francesca blurts.

Jenna blinks, like she forgot Francesca was even in the room.  That happens a lot when she’s not around The Avoiders. It’s like she goes invisible.  Like everybody else is a regular planet, and she’s so small she’s the one that the scientists said doesn’t count as a planet anymore.  It’s why she’s so good at spying.

Scoffing like Mom does, Jenna takes her wine and leaves them in the living room.  Jesus sends a half smile to Francesca. “That was pretty cool,” he says, and offers his fist for her to bump.

She does.

\--

Francesca tries not to be disappointed, but how can she not be?  It’s like, 11:00 and the party just randomly ended when Jenna finished opening all of her million presents.  Mom said she’d rather open hers in private. Francesca knows it’s because she’s embarrassed that most of them are for Jenna.  Francesca would be embarrassed, too.

When Jesus and Mariana have their birthday, they always have the same amount of presents, so it’s fair.  When Pearl and Levi have their birthday, Francesca’s sure it’ll be the same, because they respect each other.

“Aren’t we gonna even eat cake?  Or dinner?” Francesca wonders.

“Honey, food was here the whole night.” Mama points out on her way to bed.  

“I thought we were gonna eat together, though,” she insists.

“If it didn’t occur to you to eat at 5:00 when you saw all the rest of us with food, then I’m sorry.  I can’t help you,” Mama says looking tired enough to fall into bed.

“Grow a little common sense, Frankie, seriously,” Brandon points out.

“Hey.  Leave her alone,” Jesus says, taking Francesca’s hand again.  “Come on, buddy. I’ll get you some cake.”

They’re at the cake with the giant 50 in it that Mom hates.  Jesus is asking her what piece she wants and Fran picks a corner, of course, with the most frosting.

“Francesca, come here, please,” Mom calls.

Guiltily, Fran turns around, and takes a couple steps toward Mom, waiting in a chair.  “What?”

She can feel Brandon, Talya, Callie, Ximena, Jude, Noah and Mike all listening in and pretending they’re not.

“What exactly were you hoping to accomplish with a letter like this, Frankie?” Mom asks.

Jesus comes up and sets her cake on the table.  Pulls out a chair for her and whispers that she can sit down.  He sits in a chair beside her, not spying. Just being moral support.

“I don’t know…” Francesca manages.  “I was just...trying to tell you my feelings that you’re not a safe person, I guess?” With Jesus next to her, Francesca feels braver.

“What about  _ my _ feelings, Francesca?  How would you feel if somebody gave you something like this on your birthday?” Mom demands softly.

“It was an accident.  I was gonna give you the letter after…”

“You know what, Francesca?  It doesn’t matter. I don’t appreciate you writing down things like this.  If you have a problem, you come to me and tell me. To my face. Do you understand?” Mom asks.

“Yes…” Francesca answers in a tiny voice.

“What else?” Mom crosses her arms.

“I’m sorry,” Francesca remembers.

“I’m going to bed,” Mom says, scraping her chair back suddenly.  Just like before, both her and Jesus have the same reaction. They flinch.

Mom doesn’t notice.

\--

Jesus stays long enough to eat cake with Francesca but then he really has to go.  He hugs her a lot before he goes.

“I don’t wanna leave you like this, but I need to get home before I fall asleep.  But do me a favor?” he asks.

“What?” Francesca asks.

“Call Dominique?  For positive coping?” he asks.

Francesca motions him down to her height.  Whispers in his ear: “Can I go in your room?  Like in your closet for privacy? Mariana’s sleeping and Callie and Ximena are staying over.”

“You wanna come back with me?” Jesus asks.  “Call Dominique on the way?”

Francesca breathes a sigh of relief as Jesus leaves a big, obvious note, telling Moms that Francesca’s staying overnight with him.  That he’ll drop her off at school in the morning.

In the car, she calls Dominique, and it’s not too late, because Dominique is always up.

“Yeah,” she says, as Jesus drives, and Dudley sits in the passenger side like a person.  “I really wanted to cast a spell on Jenna. I wish I had a wand…”

On the phone, Dominique says, “You can borrow mine.  Anytime, babe.”

And it’s like, finally.  Finally, Francesca feels a little bit bigger than Pluto.


	2. Better Place

Getting to go to Jesus’s always feels like getting to breathe.

 

It’s where Francesca dreams of living: with Jesus or with Dominique (and only if Mariana is there, too).

 

Inside Jesus’s apartment feels like home, way more than actual-home does.  Francesca has an air mattress that she can sleep on in the living room, which is the same room where Jesus sleeps on his futon, so she doesn’t have to be scared.  Plus, Dominique is right across the hall in case Francesca needs her.

 

Speaking of Dominique…

 

“Jesus?” Fran asks as Jesus is blowing up the air mattress for her.

 

“What’s up?” he asks.

 

“Can I go next door and say goodnight to Dominique?  I asked her on the phone and she said it was okay.” Francesca’s so used to getting to say good night to all The Avoiders it’s gonna feel super strange not to do it.

 

“Sure.  But leave the door open, so I can see you?”

 

“Thanks,” Francesca grins and opens the door.  From right here she can see Dominique’s door almost right across from her, a little bit to the right.

 

“Hey, buddy?” Jesus calls.

 

“Yeah, buddy?” Fran asks, feeling super tired.

 

“It’s late and you got school tomorrow.  So just a quick goodnight, okay? Unless you got a safety thing.  When you come back, snack, PJs and teeth brushed, cool?”

 

Fran wrinkles her nose but smiles.  “Cool,  _ I guess _ ,” she admits.  “Oh no. I didn’t say goodnight to Mari!  Or Levi or Pearl!”

 

“Buddy, we can say goodnight to everybody, but go tell Dominique first, okay?  Just try to focus on that,” Jesus says, patient.

 

“Okay.  Thanks for the good advice,” Francesca goes across the hall.

 

Getting nervous a little, she turns back and Jesus nods, flashing a thumbs up.

 

“This is really her apartment, right?” Francesca whispers.  It looks like 308 but she’s so tired, her mind might be playing tricks on her.

 

“It’s really her apartment.  You got this. I’m right here if you need some back up, but I’m trying to stay in my own space out of respect for Dominique.”

 

“Okay,” Francesca breathes like she’s seen huge muscley guys breathe before they wrestle.  She knocks. Calls softly: “Dominique, it’s Francesca. I’m just here to say goodnight, if that’s okay.”

 

The door opens, and there’s Dominique, with no costume, all her scars out, and her hair wrapped.  She has on gray sweatpants and a yellow tee shirt that looks baggy and comfy. Her hair is wrapped in blue.  Bare feet - they have some scars Fran doesn’t usually see - but that’s okay. Fran remembers her shoes might still be muddy from the cabin.  Dominique smiles and holds her arms out for Fran. Francesca grabs on tight. “I missed you so much and I hated that party and I just wish it could be us Avoiders all the time,” she says in a rush.

 

Dominique squats so Francesca can look in her eyes easier.  Holds her hands. Just holds her eye contact a long time and breathes slow and obvious.  She does it until Fran does it, too.

 

“I hear you.  I really do. I understand that the party...sucked--”

 

“Mom said she didn’t want a sixth kid.  She didn’t want me. Like, she said that right to her friend, Jenna.  Right in the yard.” Francesca passes along, still feeling really sad about it.

 

“Does Jesus know?” Dominique asks, hugging Fran again.

 

Francesca shakes her head.  “It was just me.”

 

“Babe.  I want you to listen to me carefully, okay?  Can you?” Dominique asks gently, like she’s just curious.

 

Francesca nods.  

 

When Dominique talks again, she does a little slower, kind of how Michael - her dad - talks sometimes:  “It’s not just you anymore. You’ve got us. Jesus?” she calls. “You wanna come here for a sec? Just in the hall, not inside?”

 

Francesca watches as Jesus and Dudley join her and Dominique.  Dudley’s being brave because Roberta’s in the doorway blinking her green eyes at him.  Dudley’s afraid but he stays by Jesus. Roberta looks like she wants to run out of Dominique’s apartment, but Dom nudges her back inside gently with one foot.

 

“What’s up?” Jesus asks again.

 

“So, my dad found this app that he says ‘blew his mind?’  Marco Polo something--”

 

“--I know Marco Polo!  It’s kinda like hide and seek and it’s--” Francesca interjects.

 

“Hey, Francesca?” Jesus stops her.  “Dominique was telling us something, okay?  Let’s show her we respect her by listening, okay?”

 

“I know the real Marco Polo, too, and I hear you’re excited.  But this app, it’s like we can just send videos to each other.  So we could have an Avoiders Polo group. And I was thinking...if you’re ever in trouble, Fran.  Just turn your camera on and start Poloing to our group.”

 

“I’m sorry for interrupting, but you thought of all this  _ right now _ ?” Francesca asks, impressed.

 

“Well, ever since Dad mentioned it to me earlier today.  So I’ve been mulling over it for a few hours. I know you won’t be with most of us Avoiders every day, and that made me start thinking about safety stuff for you.”

 

“Because I’m important?” Francesca asks honestly.

 

“Right.  You’re important.  And you being safe is important.” Dominique clarifies.

 

Francesca leans against Dominique, relieved.  

 

“But back to the Polos.  If you send it to our group, then one of us will see, and even if that’s Pearl or Levi, they can call Jesus or me, and we can come pick you up.”

 

“How?  Moms wouldn’t let me if I was in trouble…” Francesca objects.

 

“If you’re in trouble, and you Polo us?  One of us will be there to pick you up in ten minutes, at most.  Probably me,” Jesus says. “I’ll make something up if I have to, Fran.  The most important thing is keeping you safe.”

 

“Mariana, too?” Francesca checks.

 

“Definitely,” Jesus and Dominique say together.

 

Right then, Dominique sends out invites for the Polo thing and Francesca gets hers and makes an account with one of the pictures she took at the cabin that just shows her and Dominique holding hands.  (That way, it still follows Moms’ rules. No face pictures.)

 

Levi and Pearl join right away.  Dominique’s already sent a video telling all of them what Fran’s safety plan is.  And that if Levi or Pearl gets a video first they should make sure and call Jesus or Dominique to let them know.

 

Francesca’s leg is getting exhausted.  She’s leaning on the wall, and feels her knees give out a little.

 

“Okay, I got you, buddy.  Lean on me,” Jesus says.

 

Dominique goes and gets a folding chair and brings it to the hall.  Unfolds it behind Fran. “There you go.”

 

Francesca smiles, nervous.  “This feels like, you know, in school?  When a kid gets in trouble and has to sit out in the hall?”

 

“You’re not in trouble, babe.  And we’re with you, okay? That’s the whole point of all of this.”

 

Jesus puts one finger on the chair and smiles a little even though he looks tired.  “Accommodation-chair. Not punishment-chair. Cool?”

 

Francesca nods.

 

“Now, let’s send a good night video to Mari, Pearl and Levi and call it a night.  What do you say?” Jesus asks.

 

Francesca double checks that they’re good with her sending a video.  Promises she won’t put them in it but they can stick their heads in if they want to be.

 

“Goodnight, Mari.  Night, Levi. Night, Pearl.  I’m sleeping over at Jesus’s tonight.  So it’s not a safety thing. I’m extra safe right now.  But I wish you guys were here.”

 

Pearl and Levi pop in together on Levi’s phone.  It says  _ Levi is here  _ in a little circle that shows Cleo when she was a puppy during Fran’s goodnight video.  Then, Pearl is smiling, saying, “What is this? It’s so cool! Goodnight, Fran. Glad you get to hang out with some of the Avoiders.  And I’m always home, so if you send one of these, and I see it? I’ll definitely be on calling duty. Also, I kinda wanna keep in touch with your moms?  Is that cool with you guys? Just to know what they’re thinking and to make sure you and Mariana have an ally in me, Fran.”

 

Levi pokes his head in.  “An ally is somebody on your side.  In, like, World War II and stuff there was the axis powers, who were basically the bad guys.  The allies are the good guys. And I’m down to call somebody for you, for sure. Night, Fran. Miss you.”

 

She turns off the video and hugs Dominique one more time when she says yes.

 

Then, Dominique takes the chair back inside her apartment with Roberta and closes the door.  Francesca walks back inside Jesus’s apartment.

 

“I’m too tired to eat…” Francesca moans, laying her head down on Jesus’s table.

 

“Not even a piece of turkey salami and a glass of milk?  Your fav…” he grins, standing right by the fridge.

 

“No way…  You got some more?” Francesca asks, yawning.  

 

“Definitely, and that way you can get some protein and some calcium in you.  I’m really sorry nobody made sure you had dinner, buddy.”

 

“It’s my fault.  Mariana and me. We were napping.  Mariana probably still is.” Francesca comments taking a bite of turkey salami Jesus cut for her, and then, a huge drink of milk.

 

“Moms are adults.  It’s their responsibility to be sure you eat.  Hey, is Mari okay, you think? She was still sleeping the whole party…”

 

“I locked the door so nobody could bother her,” Francesca admits.  “But we have the key on our own side. Don’t worry. She can get out.”  She says as Jesus finishes blowing up the mattress and putting a sheet on it and blankets and a pillow. “Mari unplugged the intercom, though…”

 

“Why?” Jesus asks.

 

“She said there’s no reason to have it because now she’s off her Dilantin because she took it for the whole year like the doctor said.  And now it’s even been an extra month with no seizures, so…”

 

“I mean, she has a point…” Jesus nods.  “What do you think about it?”

 

“I like it.  The intercom was good, because, like what if Mari needed something?  But Moms started kinda using it to spy on us, I think… You want some turkey salami?” Fran asks, at the cutting board, with a knife from Jesus’s knife block.

 

“Hey, hey, hey…  Thank you so much.  But I got that,” Jesus takes the knife from her hand and cuts himself a thick piece of turkey salami.  Pours himself a big glass of milk. “Please ask me before you use my giant knives. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

 

“I won’t,” Francesca promises.  “I’ll be careful. I just wanted you to have a snack, too.  So you could have some nutrition, like me. Not just cake.”

 

“I get that, but I’m the grownup here, okay?  That means I take care of you. Not vice versa.  I need you to ask me next time before you use one of the big knives.  Does that make sense?” he presses. 

 

“Is this because you think I’m a baby or because there’s some things eleven year olds shouldn’t be responsible for, like making a whole thing of spaghetti?” Fran checks.

 

“The second one,” Jesus says.

 

“Okay, then it makes sense.  I’ll ask.” Fran promises.

 

“PJs and brush your teeth,” Jesus reminds.

 

“Can I shower?” Francesca asks.  She doesn’t want to go to bed. She feels ready to stay awake for years and talk.

 

“Not tonight, buddy, it’s too late.  But tomorrow morning, if there’s time,” Jesus says.

 

Francesca sighs and goes into the bathroom.  Closes the door and locks it because it’s her right to privacy.  She changes into the  _ Moana _ pajamas she keeps at Jesus’s along with a backup pair with Pua the pig and an oar.  She has a few outfits over here, too. Jesus hangs them in the same closet as his clothes.  So it feels like she lives here, kind of.

 

She takes the green toothbrush and brushes her teeth and comes out to the living room.  The lights are all off except for the one in the kitchen over the stove. That’s for both of them.  So they don’t get scared and wake up thinking that they’re somewhere else. Her air mattress is all made.  Jesus is in his futon with Dudley beside it. There’s something on her pillow.

 

Francesca goes closer to look.  It’s a soft toy sloth. Looking at it even more, Fran figures out that it can open and close its arms to cling onto Francesca’s arm or her backpack.  “Ooh! Slothy, where did  _ you _ come from?” she whispers.

 

“Dominique dropped that off for you.  She forgot about it when you stopped by for hugs but she wanted you to have that.  She remembered you saying you wanted a sloth.”

 

“Yay,” Francesca yawns, rubbing her face against it.  “Can we do Good Things? So I can sleep?”

 

“You bet.  Um… Avoidance.  That’s a good thing,” he offers.

 

“.......Boundaries…” Francesca offers after a pause.

 

Jesus thinks a little while and then says: “Consent,” softly.

 

Francesca never makes it to the letter D.  But she was totally planning to say Dominique for it.  Even though she’s a human being and not a thing at all.  

 

But she is one of Fran’s best people in the whole world.  So she should count.


	3. Circadian

Mariana wakes up suddenly, at the sound of her bedroom door lock being picked.  At giggling. A glance at the clock, plus some extra processing time lets her know that it’s 2:45 AM.  

 

She can hear Callie and - she can’t make out the other voice - who’s coming in?  Mariana squints in the dark and gropes for her glasses. Fran sleeps lightly, and she’ll definitely hear this and be up.  The door finally opens, and Mariana doesn’t know why, but she fakes sleep. Faced away from Callie’s bed and toward Francesca’s.

 

The light in the hall spills over her bed.  Empty. Covers turned back. Like…

 

“Ouch!” Callie whispers loudly.

 

“Are you okay?” The other voice asks.  Female. Mariana relaxes, but only infinitesimally.  

 

“Frankie left her suitcase in the middle of the floor,” Callie complains in another loud whisper, and Mariana can hear the bag being slid across wood.

 

“You can have that bed,” Callie says, giggling, between kisses.

 

“I’d rather have  _ your _ bed…” The other voice insists.

 

“Ximena, my sister’s sleeping... _ right there _ .  Seriously.” Callie scolds lightly, still laughing.  Slurring. God, they both sound super drunk.

 

“No, I’m not.” Mariana speaks up.

 

“Great.  You woke her up,” Callie teases.

 

“I’m not the one who tripped over the suitcase…” Ximena points out.

 

They’re not even bothering to whisper anymore.

 

“Where’s Fran?” Mari asks, her mind full of sleepy fog.   _ She _ feels drunk, even though she wasn’t at the loud as hell party downstairs.

 

“I don’t know,” Callie shrugs.  “There’s, like, a note...or something...downstairs.  She’s fine.”

 

Mariana gets up, going to the bathroom and locking both the doors.  She turns on the lights and her constant headache gets exponentially worse.

 

She checks her phone.  Finds a text from Dominique inviting her to join an app called Marco Polo, letting her know The Avoiders should all join ASAP.  She finds it and adds it, because she’s not about to go feeling through the house in the dark looking for a random ransom note left by a kidnapper.  

 

Instantly, she sees individual Avoider tiles as well as one with all of them pictured together, titled Avoiders. The one with Jesus’s face as a small NEW on it in red.  She clicks it.

 

“Hey sis.  So, I totally cannot sleep at all.  It bites.” Mariana can see that Jesus is in his kitchen, his face lit by the light above his stove.  Otherwise, it’s dark. “I put Fran’s headphones on her, so I could do this. Also, ‘cause I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be a rough night.  Oh, yeah, and I’ve got Francesca with me here. I left a note on the table for Moms, but just in case you wake up and freak that she’s gone.  She’s here and she’s safe.”

 

Jesus tells her he’s going to forward Fran’s first Polo to her so she can see for herself that Fran’s okay.  It does help.

 

Hesitantly, Mariana presses the Start button and talks.  “So, I can’t sleep either… Callie and her girlfriend, I guess - (does she have a girlfriend?) - came in all loud.  Drunk. Whatever. So, that’s great. Do you think my picture’s okay or should I change it?”

 

It’s a young picture.  Toddler Mariana in a diaper.  White tee shirt and long blonde wig, smiling for days.

 

“No, don’t change it.  I love that pic. Sorry everybody’s drunk.  It sucks. I don’t wanna sleep tonight. Like, Fran asked if she could shower tonight, and I told her to wait because it’s too late tonight and I felt like Him.”  Jesus stops talking and just looks into the camera. “I remember how long He used to make me wait before He let me shower. It was gross. I felt gross making her wait.  But I’m trying to hang in there and remember that she did shower not that long ago. It’s just hard.”

 

“You’re not Him,” Mariana says back.  “Fran’s okay without a super late shower,  I did freak out when she was gone though. Callie said something about a note and I imagined some kind of...whatever-demand?  When people want money or whatever?”

 

“Ransom,” is all Jesus says.

 

“Yeah, that.  So, yeah. Thanks for taking care of her.” Mari sighs.

 

“Are  _ you _ okay?” Jesus checks.  “I heard Moms were assy to Francesca.  Were they to you?”

 

Mariana just looks into the camera, tired.  “I don’t really remember. I just...don’t wanna sleep?”

 

“Stay up with me then,” Jesus urges.  He’s sitting on the kitchen floor now, in the near-dark.  Dudley’s there with his head in Jesus’s lap.

 

“Jesus?” Mari hears Francesca’s voice in the background.  She sounds scared. Before Jesus can get up for her, Mariana sees their baby sis out in the kitchen with a blanket wrapped around her.  She cuddles Dudley. “I thought you were gone,” she tells Jesus sleepily, sniffling. (Mariana knows the feeling so well.)

 

“I’m right here.  Go to sleep, buddy,” Jesus urges.

 

“She said she didn’t want me…” Fran whimpers.

 

Mariana sends a video where she just raises her eyebrows, and Jesus sends one back where he mouths, “Mom.”  

 

“That sucks,” Mari offers, sympathetic.  “When Moms don’t want you. But we do. Right, Jesus?”

 

“Yeah, Francesca.  We totally want you.  You have us. Your Avoider fam.  And it’s not the same thing. We know that, but it’s something.”

 

“You really love me?” Fran asks, sleepy.  Tearful.

 

“We definitely really love you.  A thousand percent, sure,” Jesus reassures, sending the video to Mariana.

 

Once, Mari might have been shocked at this kind of talk from Stef, but nothing shocks her anymore.  Knowing Fran has always loved being sung to, Mari decides to start smack in the middle of an old Celine Dion song.  She hums the line, foregoing trying to remember the words, but they come anyway. She sends a video, singing:

 

“ _ You can sleep in my arms, you don’t have to explain…” _

 

Eventually, Jesus sends a response as Fran’s breathing evens out.  Jesus waves at the camera quietly and stops recording. Mariana knows he’s going to carry her back to bed.  Knows their sister is in good hands - the best hands.

 

\--

 

Mariana sits up for hours, checking out Twitter.  Instagram and Facebook. She hates sleeping now. It reminds her a little too much of the hospital.  Every time she closes her eyes she has weird nightmares. 

 

Her and Jesus as preemies in the NICU.  As babies, left in a playpen for longer than a day.  No food. No one to take care of them. Not being able to move.  Feeling exposed. Sometimes she dreams she can feel her whole body and it’s the worst waking up to realize, no.  The left side’s still numb. 

 

Sometimes, she dreams of dying.

 

She scrolls through her old Tumblr trying to forget about the nightmares.

 

When a strange alert pings on Mari’s phone she checks the time.  5 AM. And it’s a Polo from Jesus. In the chat that just has the two of them in it.

 

Mariana opens it right away.

 

“Whoa, you’re still here.” He blinks, surprised, seeing  _ Mariana is here _ on his phone screen.  “Hey. So, worst nightmare ever.  The one where He got me at first. It was basically like I relived it all.  Until he dropped me on the ground Down There. Then He opened up the bag and He was me and Fran was in the bag…” Jesus shivers.  “I’m so screwed up, Mariana…”

 

“I dreamed I died,” she says back, straight-faced.  “So, I win.”

 

“Mariana.  God. I’m sorry.  No wonder you don’t wanna sleep…” Jesus remarks, sympathetic.

 

“So...you would never put Fran in a bag,” she sends back.  “You’re so not like Him, Jesus. Taking care of Fran...might make you remember...how He…  Say something?”

 

“Taking care of Fran might make me remember how He...what, didn’t take care of me? Abused me?” Jesus responds.

 

“Pretty much,” Mariana shrugs.  “When do you have to be up to get Fran to school?”

 

“7:30, at the latest, I think.” Jesus sends back.

 

“Set an alarm?  For 7:30  _ AM _ ?” Mariana checks.

 

“No, I did not.  Thank you. You’re the best.  Moms would have freaked out if I didn’t get Francesca to school.”  Jesus sends this message and follows it up with a screencap of his alarm.

 

“How late was she up?” Mariana wonders.

 

“Almost midnight,” he admits.

 

“God, she’s gonna be exhausted.  Can’t Moms like, grow a soul or something?  Let her stay home?”

 

“Especially since they sent Jude to wake her up for the party at like 6:00.  Then she stayed up for it til like 11:00. She was all wound up when she got back here, which is why Dominique suggested the safety Marco Polo thing for her.”

 

“What safety Marco Polo thing?” Mariana asks.  

 

“I’ll make sure everybody forwards their videos to you in the new chat with all of us.  Dom suggested that Fran could turn her camera on in her phone and just start filming if she feels like she is in trouble and needs backup.  Dom or I can go get her. You can be there for her til we can come for both of you and Pearl and Levi offered to call Dom or me if they see the Polos first.”

 

“Why are we the ones making safety plans for our little sister?  I thought, living here, Stef and Lena were supposed to do that…” Mariana remarks.  She’s not bitter, just angry for Frankie. That her own parents don’t seem to care at all about her wellbeing.

 

“I know, right?” Jesus mutters darkly.  “Remember back when we came, and we thought wow.  Brandon’s the golden boy. I kinda thought that’s how bio parents treat their bio kids.  But like...Pearl’s mom with her? Lena with Frankie? I guess it’s not always like that.”

 

“But Dominique’s parents treat her...you know...they respect her and whatever.” Mariana offers.  “They’re kinda my role models for how to do the human thing with Francesca.”

 

“ _Peer_ enting,” Jesus offers with a smirk. 

 

“That’s it.” Mariana smiles.  “Well, I think I hear moaning out there.  So I better clear out of  here before there’s vomit.  In here. With me.”

 

“Nasty.  Okay. Bye, miss you.  Fran will probably wanna touch base before she leaves for school.  Which is in just a little bit. I should grab a shower.”

 

“Miss you.” Mariana yawns.

 

She unlocks the door and walks out into the hall.  With no one around so early, she employs Fran’s old method on the stairs and sits, scooting down them one at a time.  Better that than losing her footing.

 

She gets downstairs safely and makes her way to the kitchen.  Puts coffee on. Because if she doesn’t, people are gonna be super bitchy.

 

Then, she collapses on the couch, ready to sleep for a year.

 

“Mariana, what’s this?” Lena’s voice asks, shaking a piece of paper.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Well, why would you?  You’re not even looking at it.” Lena comes around the couch and thrusts the paper in Mariana’s lap.  

 

She sees right away it’s Jesus’s handwriting.  Luckily he told her about what his note to Moms said so she doesn’t have to take time trying to read.  He’s not intentionally messy. It’s that all the words in the short message are trying to enter her mind simultaneously. 

 

“Jesus left it,” Mariana finally says, at a loss.  Seriously, why is Lena even asking her? The note is pretty obvious, if it says what Jesus said it does.

 

“I know that, Mariana.  But it’s a school night.  She’s not allowed to do sleepovers on school nights.”

 

“I was sleeping,” Mariana mutters.  “I didn’t even know about it.”

 

“Like that makes it any better.  Who was watching your sister, then?” Lena snaps.

 

“Jesus,” Mari says bluntly.  (Does Lena just not listen at all?)

 

“Mariana, I love Jesus, but he’s not the most reliable,” Lena says, taking a sip of coffee from her travel mug and grimacing.

 

Mariana’s totally about to blurt that Jesus is a hell of a lot more reliable than they are when Mom comes banging into the kitchen.  Keys jingling. Loud footsteps. Loud everything.

 

“Hey…  It’s Crash Adams Foster.  Thanks for sleeping through the party last night, Miss Thang.  Thoughtful,” Stef says, stamping a kiss on Mariana’s head from behind.  Mariana tries not to cringe at so many things. 

 

The kiss’s sudden invasion on her vulnerable, already throbbing skull. 

 

The way the left side of her body - scalp to toes - has started tingling in response to the pressure of someone’s lips. 

 

The way her heart has begun to race... 

 

Mariana does her best to ignore Stef, who’s clearly hungover - and even when she isn’t - seems to think it’s an appropriate joke to call Mari ‘Crash’.  (Every time Mariana expresses her dislike, Stef claims the nickname is meant ‘in love.’)

 

Needless to say, Mari feels anything but loved when Stef says that about her.  Even though her memory is a giant blank through about a week prior to the accident, she remembers enough of the painful as hell recovery to not appreciate the rude moniker.

 

“Don’t bother.  Unless you want grounds,” Lena says to Stef under her breath as she stops at the coffee pot.  “Mariana, honey, do us a favor and don’t try to help with the coffee until you can remember how to do it?”

 

Mariana knows the words should hurt, and they do, a little.  She feels the automatic and careful emotional distancing from a quiet, fierce corner of her mind.  She had ignored the pull of it during the kiss. Felt an echo of flimsy hollowness that she did not trust.  

 

Now, though?  She welcomes it.  Further distracts herself by listening (phone to her ear for privacy) to Francesca’s video to all The Avoiders about how she got to have waffles with peanut butter and syrup just like she and Levi had at the cabin.  A glance at the screen shows Francesca looks really tired. Mari hopes she can make it through the day. She’s dressed in one of her backup outfits - a plain gray tunic with yellow and gray leggings. Her hair looks a little messy.  Her braid is crooked, but Jesus had done his best. Definitely better than Mariana can do at hair styling nowadays. 

 

She watches as Fran says “bye” and blows a kiss before stopping the video.  Mariana can see they made it to Anchor Beach safely. She breathes a sigh of relief.

 

Knowing Moms are just out of earshot in the kitchen, Mariana starts a new video. Avoiding her own eyes, she touches the pen image that she had belatedly noticed on the far left, and draws her best attempt at a heart.

 

Hits send.


	4. Head Above Water

Mari doesn’t bother getting dressed.  She stays in yesterday’s sweats that she flew home in and sits on the porch to wait for Jesus.  She sees a package by their mailbox addressed to Francesca. Return address is Grams. Probably a late birthday gift.  Mariana scoots it next to her. She better just take it to Jesus’s. Any mail opened in front of Moms is public property and open to scrutiny.

 

Seriously, thank God for Jesus, or she doesn’t wanna think about where she’d be right now.  Every day, Jesus picks Mariana up and they hang out together at his apartment. She hopes Jesus won’t mind an epic nap session.  She thinks Fran could definitely use one, too, and feels terrible again that Francesca was expected to show up and do school for seven hours after getting almost no sleep.

 

Squinting in the sunlight, Mariana hears the now-familiar ping of a new Marco Polo video.  Plays it.

 

Something breaks inside of Mariana as she sees Pearl on the screen.  

 

“Bye, Fran.  You’re a rockstar, going to school after such a big couple days.  Maybe when you get done, a sister nap is in order? I know, at eleven, you’re probably not big on naps, but I know Mariana is.  Mari, how are you? I’m gonna call Stef today, so heads up. I hope to make things better, not worse. Let me know if I’m infringing too much.”

 

Mari presses the Start button to record her own message.  “I’m exhausted, and...I don’t remember anything I was about to say.  But yay naps. Jesus is here. Gotta go.”

 

Jesus and Dudley are out of the car and he is at the steps offering her a hand up.  He lets her keep hanging on while they walk to his car. She keeps the package in her free hand.

 

“We can nap when we get there,” Jesus reassures, standing back to let Mariana get in and then closing her door and coming around to get in the driver’s side.

 

“Screwed up the coffee,” Mariana offers, no energy left for inflection.  So it sounds like she’s pissed. Like, maybe, she did it on purpose. (Moms tell her often enough how she should care.  “ _ Do us a favor, Miss Thang, and try to care… _ ”)

 

A muscle along Jesus’s jaw twitches.  But she’s so tired she can’t read his thoughts right now.

 

“You know that episode of House, where he’s like, “ _ Until you can remember how to make coffee, hands off the patients _ ?” Mariana asks, forgetting that Jesus almost never watches TV.

 

“They said that?” he asks softly.  He’s focused on driving, but listening, too.

 

“Basically.”  Mari shrugs.

 

Just like that, her seat belt feels too tight.  She’s scanning the street for other cars that might crash into them.  For trees that come out of nowhere. (A picture rises in her mind’s eye.  Lucile all smashed against a massive tree. She didn’t even look like a car anymore.)

 

She shouldn’t distract him anymore.  Not like she has the energy to keep talking, but somehow anxiety and panic fuel her enough to keep watch until they pull into the parking lot at Gateway.  She fumbles with the buckle of her seatbelt, on her left, and already has the door open by the time Jesus and Dudley are around.

 

“Hey.  You okay?  You got real quiet...and you’re hella pale.”  

 

Mariana forces herself to breathe deep.  Plasters a smile on for his benefit. “I’m fine.”

 

Jesus doesn’t buy this.  Mariana can tell. He stays close by her.  They now have an understanding that - like with Francesca - if Mariana needs to hang onto Jesus suddenly, or at any point, for balance?  It’s okay. He consents because of safety. Because he “doesn’t want his sisters face-planting if he can help it.” It’s because of this that Mari finds herself relying heavily on Jesus.

 

She’s drained by the time they ride the elevator up to the third floor.  Jesus unlocks his apartment door and holds it open for both of them, helping her inside.  She drops Fran’s mail on the table and collapses on the futon. Mari’s glad that Jesus steered them around Fran’s air mattress.  It would really suck to trip right now, even if the landing was soft.

 

Jesus goes to the kitchen briefly, while Mariana focuses on just staying upright, seated on his futon.  It’s so comfortable - mainly because it’s so safe here. It brings tears to her eyes. Jesus is back now, with a S’mores granola bar and a bottle of water.

 

She manages to eat the granola bar and drink half the water before falling asleep, hard on the futon.

 

\--

 

Pearl takes a deep breath and hits Stef’s name on her Contacts list.  Listens to the phone ring. And ring. And ring.

 

“Hello?” Stef finally answers, sounding slightly annoyed.

 

“Stef?  Hey, it’s Pearl.  Just wanted to say happy birthday.  How was it?”

 

“Um…  Great.  How are--  How are you?  Gosh, I haven’t heard from you since...2015?”

 

“2015, yeah.  Sorry, I haven’t been better at staying in touch.  But seeing Jesus and Mariana and Francesca reminded me of all the summers you used to be up here.  Francesca mentioned you had a birthday yesterday, so I thought I’d call. Say I hope it was happy.”

 

“It was something, all right…” Stef murmurs.  “Listen, I hope the kids weren’t too much trouble for you.  God knows, now they’re home and I’ve got the girls’ laundry in their room all over the floor, not in the laundry room like I asked.  Frankie’s got attitude for days and Mariana couldn’t even be bothered to come downstairs for the party last night. Too busy sleeping,” Stef scoffs.

 

“We all were up pretty early yesterday.  Around 3 AM in order to get them to the airport in time.  And I’m fairly sure they weren’t the ones who bought tickets for specific flights…” Pearl adds, nudging Stef gently toward the truth.  “I mean, you know how it is getting up that early. We’re crabby and tired. 3 AM’s early no matter how you slice it. Even for me.”

 

“So how  _ are _ you doing?  Haven’t really gotten the chance to talk to the girls about the trip since Frankie disappeared to Jesus’s last night, and Mariana high-tailed it out of here first thing this morning.”

 

“I’m fine,” Pearl answers, keeping her voice calm.  She’s not about to share about Levi until she double checks with him that it’s okay.

 

“Yeah? How’s Gracie doin’?  She’s such a sweet dog…” Stef says, and Pearl can hear her smiling.

 

She winces.  “Yeah. Gracie’s not with us anymore, unfortunately,” she says, clearing her own throat, and petting her adorable black pug.  “I’ve got Cleo now.”

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry.  Gracie was so nice,” Stef offers, sounding truly sympathetic.  “Listen, Pearl, thanks so much for the call. I gotta get going.  Callie’s here for the day with her girlfriend and Lena and I have lunch plans with them.”

 

“Of course.  Sounds good. Bye,” Pearl says, hanging up.

 

“Who are you talking to that doesn’t know about Gracie?” Levi wonders, walking through the living room.  He stops to sit on the arm of the couch, concerned.

 

“Stef.  Jesus, Mariana and Francesca’s mom.  She used to babysit me growing up sometimes,” Pearl adds.

 

“Okay...but didn’t you say she’s like Carla?  Why are you talking to her?” Levi asks, suspicious.

 

“Because I want to know what’s going on there.  With Fran and Mariana living there and knowing how they’re treated?  I want to be sure I know what’s going on in Stef and Lena’s minds.”

 

“You’re spying on them…” Levi offers, with a small smile, impressed.

 

“I guess I am.  I was going to ask.  Do you mind if I mention you?  I feel like your name is bound to come up at some point, from Mariana or Francesca, right?  And I don’t want it to seem like I’m ashamed or hiding you.”

 

“Nah, I thought we were past that,” Levi nods.

 

“We are.  I’m concerned, though, because of their similarity to Carla.  I didn’t want to tell them about you without you knowing.” Pearl reassures.

 

“I don’t want them knowing private stuff.  Just like, what I wouldn’t mind if a stranger knew.  Like, they can know I found you. I live here with you.  How old I am if you think they care, but nothing else.”

 

“Sounds good.  I’ll just stick to those basics then,” Pearl nods.  “Are you gonna check in with Mariana today?” 

 

“Why?” Levi asks, side-eyeing her with a grin.

 

“No reason…” Pearl leans back, nonchalant.  “I just...saw the way you two were looking at each other.  Anything going on there? Because I’d like to invoke my older sisterness to tell you - to  _ ask you _ \- to please wait until you’re legal before you get into anything with Mari.”

 

“Oh my God, okay.  Okay, stop,” Levi has his palm to his forehead, his eyes closed in embarrassment.  “We’re less than five years apart. It’s not that much.”

 

“Levi,” Pearl warns, gentle.

 

“We are not gonna do anything.  She’s in California. I’m here. Also, P.S. My dad and your mom were, like, 10 years apart,” Levi points out.

 

“ _ Our _ dad?” Pearl corrects, habit.  “So...you’re saying?” she asks.

 

“Right,  _ our _ dad...and, I’m saying maybe don’t judge?” Levi asks, hesitant now.

 

“I am not judging.  I’m looking out for your safety.  You and Mariana are both very smart.  Just...don’t get carried away, please.  Take it slow.”

 

“Pearl, I’m only gonna say this one time.  And I’m gonna use words your generation will understand…”

 

“What?” She laughs.  “My generation?! Okay, please, enlighten me.”

 

“I have no desire to go past first base…and Mari and I didn’t even do  _ that _ .”

 

“Okay, this is starting to feel weird.  You didn’t say anything wrong, just, boundaries, right?  So just...be safe,” Pearl insists, busying herself with her knitting.

 

“Got it,” Levi answers, leaving in a rush.

 

Pearl can hear him sending Mariana a video before he’s even downstairs.

 

\--

 

Mariana wakes up hours later, feeling even more tired than before.  She glances around for Jesus and finds him on his laptop in the spare room.

 

“Hey,” he greets, taking his headphones off.  Jesus lights up when he sees her. Smiles. Mariana’s still not used to that.  These days (not counting the amazing week at the cabin where Mariana could just be, and everyone seemed fine with that, and, was happy to see her on top of it.)  At home, with Stef and Lena? No one’s happy to see her. It’s like she’s this major disappointment.

 

“Hey,” she says, keeping her balance with a hand on the doorframe.

 

“Want lunch?” he asks.

 

“You don’t have to,” Mariana objects.  “All you’re...doing is feeding me. I’m gonna be super fat.”

 

“That would be amazing.  ‘Cause you and Fran are neck and neck in the “Sister With The Highest Metabolism” contest.

 

Mariana squints.  “Not a thing.”

 

“It is.  And I like feeding my fam.  Sit down,” he invites. “You want spaghetti?”

 

She nods.  “Is Michael rubbing off on you?” she asks, checking her phone.

 

“Maybe…” Jesus says.  

 

While he’s busy, Mariana sees a message from Levi, in the video tile for just the two of them.  She puts it to her ear, even though she’d like to be able to see him talk to her. Mari’s not sure if what Levi’s got to say is private or not, so she’s erring on the side that it is.

 

“So, Pearl is too much,” he says.  He’s smiling. “She was just like, asking me not to ‘get into anything’ with you ‘til I’m 18.  I said I’m not about to anyway. Just ‘cause distance.”

 

Mariana steps into the bathroom and turns on the fan, closing the door, for as much privacy as she can.  She Polos Levi back.

 

“You know our bio dad was put in jail for sleeping with our bio mom?  He was 18 and she was 15. She’s right to be concerned. Pearl. And I’m not about to get into anything with you either.  Definitely not before you’re 18. No worries.”

 

She sends a second message.  “I hate it here. Well, not  _ here _ .  I’m at Jesus’s.  But home. I wish I was back hanging out with you.”

 

Her phone shows  _ Levi is here _ .  He fills her screen.  “Cool. I wish I was there, too.  Glad you’re at Jesus’s.”

 

Mariana sends a heart emoji and leaves the bathroom to check on Jesus.  “You okay?”

 

“Yeah, I just...really want Michael’s recipe.  I hate that I don’t know how to make meatballs.” Jesus rants softly, Dudley at his side.

 

“And?” she asks, knowing there’s more.

 

“And...last night,” Jesus admits.  “I can’t stop thinking about the dream.  And before the dream.”

 

Mariana nods quietly, just listening.  She knows, firsthand, just how hard it is to shake the dreams.

 

“What the hell did Grams send Francesca?” Jesus asks, poking the large mailing envelope.

 

“Sorry if you don’t want it here.  I can have her open it in another room, in case it’s wrapped.  Sorry. I didn’t think…” Mari apologizes.

 

“It’s cool.  I’m gonna go get her in a bit.  You wanna stay here and wait or come?”

 

Mariana blinks.  “Is it that late?” 

 

“It’s after 1:00 already.  She gets done a little after 3:00.  So, yeah.”

 

“I’ll wait here,” Mariana says, digging into her spaghetti.

 

\--

 

When Fran gets there, she’s crabbier than ever that she missed having Jesus’s spaghetti.  She has a ton of homework, and Mariana can see the bags under her eyes.

 

“Hey,” Mariana greets her with a hug.  “How did you stay awake all day? I couldn’t.  I’m impressed.”

 

“I bought a Mountain Dew with my leftover birthday money,” Francesca admits.

 

She brightens at the sight of a package from Grams.  Jesus excuses himself, taking Dudley out while she opens it.

 

Inside are a rainbow assortment of tee shirts, each with a wide, deep breast pocket on the right front of each shirt.  They all have fun sayings like:  _ Future President, Joy to the Girl, And Though She Be But Little, She Is Fierce _ .  ( _ Code Like a Girl _ has Mariana looking away from it.  Gone are the days she could code effortlessly.)

 

“Ooh!  She remembered!  I wrote Grams on my email.  You know,  francescarose@gmail.com ?  And I said I needed a new way to carry my phone because my fanny pack won’t work.”

 

(Right.  Moms told her again before they left for vacation, that her cute little bag, which worked so well accessibility wise was, “Okay for vacations but not for school.”  Mama said she didn’t want Fran looking sloppy.)

 

“So these pockets should work, see?” Fran heedlessly strips off her gray shirt and tries on the new gray one -  _ Sugar & Spice & Everything STRONG  _ \- slipping her phone into the pocket.  It’s a perfect fit.

 

“Awesome,” Mariana nods, relieved that the blinds are closed, and that Jesus hasn’t decided to come back in.

 

“I wanna show Dominique.  Is she home?” Fran asked.

 

“Call first and see,” Mari urges.

Jesus comes back while Fran’s waiting for Dominique to pick up.  He eyes the empty package and wrapping paper. The 13 new shirts (and one discarded one of Francesca’s).

 

“She’s not home,” Francesca sighs.

 

“Buddy, will you pick this up, please?” Jesus asks.  “Then you’ll wanna get a dent in your homework at least before 5:00.”

 

Francesca sighs.  “Yes, but can I keep all my new shirts here?”

 

“What about a few?” Mari bargains.  “That way you’ll have more shirt options here, but you’ll have most of them at home with you.  So you can carry your phone at school.”

 

“I had to leave it here today,” Fran wrinkled her nose.  “It felt like I lost part of myself. I couldn’t see if any Avoiders talked to me at all.”  

 

“Yeah, it sucks to be cut off from screens,” Jesus comments lightly, but Mariana feels he’s talking on a deeper level.  Remembers a time when the idea of asking to use the phone or computer at home would bring on an anxiety attack that could last hours.

 

She watches him a little more. He seems okay.  For now, at least.

 

Jesus sets Fran up with a snack and Mari sits with her at the table. Jesus joins them, surprising both Mari and Fran.  He’s not usually big on media. They take turns reading aloud to take care of Fran’s 20 minutes of reading a day. She’s started  Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets now, much to Dominique’s delight.  (So Dom has said many times. Including on the plane to Minnesota, and coming home.)

 

Mariana’s a little worried about Jesus and the subject matter.  She remembers their conversation recently - about how Harry Potter was the last thing he remembered from his life before he was taken.  But Jesus seems to be really into it. Francesca’s stopping him a lot asking if Dobby has trauma or something because of his bad coping.

 

Jesus says, “Probably.  When you don’t get to have your rights respected, that happens sometimes.  But we don’t blame him, do we?”

 

“No,” Francesca decides.  “We don’t. We know he’s trying his best.”

 

Mariana closes her eyes, wishing she could just live here.  It would be so much easier then.


	5. ISAAC

It’s gotta be said:  birthdays are hella triggering.  Loaded in tons of ways Jesus wishes they weren’t.  Moms have never gotten that. They used to try. And now, it’s like they just don’t care to anymore.  It’s like they feel like he should just be over all the things that can just sneak up on him and mess him up.

 

A week before his birthday, it’s Isaac’s birthday.  It’s Monday, the 10th of May when he swings by and picks up Mariana, like usual.  (Except not at all. It’s 6 AM. Fran knows to call Dominique or Jaimie or Michael if she needs something.  Jesus told her last night.)

 

He doesn’t know what he’ll be able to tell her - if he’ll be able to tell her anything.

 

Finally, he texts:

 

_ Road trip? _

 

Mari looks at him.  She’s tired. Curious.  Sends a thumbs up.

 

That’s all the confirmation he needs.  With Mariana as his co-pilot and Dudley regularly sticking his giant head between their seats to check on Jesus, he heads north, up the coast, to Santa Barbara.  Jesus is tense, knowing he is willingly retracing the route that He took to abduct Jesus back when he was nine. Jesus knows he’ll have to pass through LA. Hopefully, though, with Mariana and Dudley, it’ll be doable.

 

The drive is weird.  It’s weird being able to see landmarks this time.  He has GPS on, telling him where to go. Mariana’s sleeping in the passenger seat, and Jesus doesn’t play the radio.  Or any music at all.

 

Jesus is so focused on getting where he’s going, it seems like no time passes.  He definitely registers getting to LA at about 9 AM. But Jesus breathes a big sigh of relief because he doesn’t have to stop.  He doesn’t have to drive down That Street or see That House. (It’s been torn down. Jesus doesn’t know what he’d do if it was still standing.)

 

His GPS keeps him on track with directions and Dudley nudges him every so often to eat something, and Jesus reaches into his purple lunch bag for an apple.  At nearly 10 AM, Jesus enters the city limits of exactly where he’s going. He enters more directions for the GPS. Soon after, Jesus is poking Mariana awake.  “You wanna come in with me?”

 

“Where are we?” she asks, but Jesus still can’t really talk.

 

They go inside.  Jesus takes his time getting what he came for.  Making it as close to exact as he can. Then, they’re ready to leave.  And Jesus has one final stop:

 

“Santa Barbara Cemetery,” he tells his GPS.

 

Tears fill Mariana’s eyes as she looks at him.  She’s in charge of holding what he bought, making sure it arrives safely.

 

Jesus gets out of the car, grabbing his sunglasses and a grey beanie hat on the way.  He stops at the gates. “I, uh, don’t really know how this is done...but uh...I’m looking for Isaac Martin…” he says, clearing his throat.

 

He’s given a map that looks hella confusing, but looking at it together, he and Mari figure out where to go.  Jesus is holding his breath. Hopes to whatever’s out there that they don’t run into Isaac’s mom. That would just be too much.  

 

After several minutes of walking around, Mariana spots it.  “Jesus,” she says, squeezing his hand and pointing. “Is this it?”

 

Jesus’s breath catches at the name - the dates - set in stone here:

 

**ISAAC QUINN MARTIN**

**MAY 10, 1998 - JUNE 12, 2010**

 

Jesus sinks to his knees beside the headstone, not knowing what to feel, what to do, or say.  He offers what he’s brought, in shaking hands. Sets it gently on the ground.

 

“Hey, bro.  Sorry it took me so long to get here.  This is my sister, Mariana. Brought you that sundae you wanted.  Well, I think it’s the way you wanted. I remember you like caramel.  And I don’t know why Butterfingers were stuck in my head, but I put some of those in.  Gummy worms. A little of everything. Sorry, it’s kinda melted.”

 

“Oh,” Jesus clears his throat and reaches in his pocket.  Takes out the Hostess cupcakes he usually just leaves on his kitchen table the night before Isaac’s birthday and then puts away the day after.  “Here. They’re kinda smashed.”

 

Jesus waits in silence for a long time, his nose and throat burning.  He doesn’t know what to begin to say. When he really starts to lose it, remembering Isaac’s terrible end and how Jesus was forced into helping dig the grave, Dudley’s there, licking and nudging him.  It breaks his heart more, remembering how bad Isaac wanted to see his own dog, Charles.

 

Mariana doesn’t say anything.  Jesus is glad. When he finally calms down, he’s glad she doesn’t make fun of him for what he does next: taking out the picture of Isaac he’d gotten as a gift from Isaac’s mom and setting it next to the sundae.  (Isaac’s mouth is open to catch snowflakes in the pic, but maybe, somehow, he can taste the ice cream…)

 

“It’s almost 11,” Mariana tells Jesus.  “You wanna get going? So we can be home to pick up Fran?”

 

Jesus sniffs and nods.  Picks up the picture and puts it in his pocket.  But he leaves the ice cream and the snack cakes there.  He’s standing up. About to walk away, when he turns back:

 

“It’s Jesus,” he says, glancing up at the bright, sunny sky.  “My name? It’s Jesus. I hope you know it’s me. Anyway. I’ll stay alive here.  And you stay alive...in the universe or whatever… Love you, bro.”

 

Turning to Mari, finally, Jesus nods.

 

He’s ready.

 

\--

 

On the way back to the car, Jesus messages the Avoiders Chat:

 

_ My friend I lost’s bday today.  Feeling pretty sad. JSYK. _

 

\--

 

The drive back is pretty blurry.  Mariana’s offering him water ‘cause he keeps crying, saying it’s good to hydrate.  He really misses Dr. H. She always said stuff like that. 

 

(He really misses Isaac.)

 

They get back and swing by Anchor Beach, first thing to pick up Fran.  She runs to them - which actually means she slows down as she gets closer - reaches them, breathless.

 

“Jesus, I saw your message,” she tells him somberly.  She drops her voice and whispers in his ear as he bends down.  “Is it your friend you tried to save and couldn’t?”

 

He nods.

 

They drive to Avoidance in silence.  Knowing that’s where they all need to be.

 

“I really wanna hug you,” Fran tells him honestly when they’re at the table.  (She’s wearing her yellow shirt from Grams today, her phone in her pocket, the camera lens peeking out.  The shirt says  _ Shine Bright _ .)  Funny, yellow’s always been the color he looked for Then.  A sign of hope. That someone was listening.

 

Jesus nods.  And Fran throws her arms around him.  She’s thin. A year younger than he and Isaac had been.  God, there had been so many times when Jesus had wanted to hug Isaac.  But he’d never gotten to. Hugging Fran now, Jesus feels a little bit like, maybe hugging Isaac a little.

 

He knows they’re not the same.  Knows Fran isn’t Isaac. Knows he can’t put that on her.  But it helps. Somehow, it helps. Mariana joins in the hug.  

 

All of them are crying a little.  But it’s okay.

 

When Jesus straightens up, he blinks.  How hadn’t he even seen them coming?

 

There, crossing the grass right now?  Dominique, Jaimie and Michael. (Based on Dom still in scrubs and Jaimie still dressed up - he’d say both came directly from work.)

 

Jesus still can’t talk.  But he takes in Dominique’s face.  The tears on it. Knows that two weeks ago, she hadn’t been able to get out of bed at all.  He’d left cookies. Sent messages to the Avoider Polo and Chat.

 

Jaimie approaches Jesus, her arms open.  “Dom thought you could use some extra hugs today,” she says, her voice thick.

 

Usually, Jesus is so not a hugger, but God, he could use a mom hug right now.  And his own moms feel like he has so many significant trauma days it’s too much work to keep track of them all.

 

He nods.  And Jaimie embraces him, cradling the back of his head.  Jesus is bent forward, forehead resting on Jaimie’s shoulder - a mess of silent tears - body shaking.

 

Vaguely, Jesus is aware that Francesca’s under the Avoider’s picnic table.  Of Dominique coaxing her out and asking if she wants to go get frozen hot chocolates.  Of Michael sitting down across from Mariana at the table. Eventually, Jesus pulls away from Jaimie and the two of them sit down, too.

 

“I’m sorry,” he manages.

 

“Jesus,  _ we’re _ sorry, babe,” Jaimie says, and Jesus is reminded that this must be where Dominique gets it.

 

“Losing people sucks,” Michael admits.

 

“It does,” he nods.

 

Mariana’s quiet, tracing a pattern on the table.  

 

“We, uh, went to the cemetery today.  Mariana came with me. It was… It was the first time I’ve been able to go…” Jesus admits.

 

“How was it?” Jaimie asks, sympathetic.

 

Jesus doesn’t answer.  He just takes the picture out of his pocket and hands it to Jaimie.  

 

Jesus loves that she takes her time looking at the picture.  That Michael leans in. That they each hold one side of it. They study it a long time before handing it back to Jesus.

 

“Do you want to share anything with us?” Jaimie asks carefully.

 

“He was my best friend.  Like my brother, when I didn’t have any family,” Jesus offers thickly.  “And our birthdays were like a week apart. On his, we split some of those Hostess snack cakes, you know?”

 

“We do,” Michael nods.

 

“And then...on the last day...he talked about wanting a huge ice cream sundae.  So Mari and I got him one. It’s probably dumb.”

 

“I don’t think so,” Jaimie counters softly.  “It’s common in a lot of cultures to leave food in the way you did.”

 

“Really?” Jesus rubs his nose.  

 

“Really,” Jaimie reassures.

 

Silence falls and eventually Jesus feels like he can move forward.  “So...you guys just, what, knew I was here, falling apart and all came, showing up here like a family of superheroes or what?” he quips.

 

“We were actually planning to come talk to you both about something else, but then Dominique got the message that today was a hard one for you,” Michael says.

 

“Talk to us about what?” Mariana wonders.

 

“Well, if it isn’t too much...we were thinking about your birthday.  And wondering if you’d like to celebrate somehow, all together. Avoiders, Avoider-Mom, Avoider-Dad,” Michael lists, gesturing to himself and Jaimie.

 

Jesus glances at Mariana, raised eyebrows.  Together, they look at Michael and Jaimie and chorus, “Yes,” and Jesus adds, “Hell, yes.  Just something kinda lowkey? Maybe here? Maybe at the apartment?”

 

“Sounds good.  What kind of cake?” Michael asks taking out his phone, to take notes.

 

“Mariana, you still like tiramisu?” Jesus asks.

 

She nods, looking surprised he remembers.  “And no candles, so Dominique feels safe.”

 

Jaimie smiles.  “You’re all so considerate of each other.  I love that.”

 

“Hey guys, we’re back!  Guess what? They fired the peon barista!” Fran reports, breathless.  “The new one is super nice. Gave us extra whipped cream!” She slides in next to Mariana while Dominique goes to the other side of the table and scoots in next to Jaimie.

 

Jesus is surprised when they hand out frozen hot chocolates to all six of them.  (Dom was carrying four in a carrier, and Fran, the last two, in her own.) Francesca digs in her backpack and takes out a piece of cinnamon swirl coffee cake and a chocolate chip cookie for Jesus.

 

“Here.  Sugar for your sadness,” Francesca offers sweetly.

 

“Thank you, buddy.  I’m not really hungry right now.”

 

Dudley woofs an objection from under the table.  Jesus ducks his head to make eye contact with the dog.  “What? I’m not.”

 

“What if you just tasted it?” Francesca asks.  “Just to, you know, make sure you still like it?”

 

“I’m gonna get Levi on,” Jesus decides.  The food situation is confusing as hell, and Levi was solid backup on that at the cabin.

 

He tries Facebook video because he needs to talk to Levi in real time.  Thank goodness, he answers. 

 

“Hey.  You doing okay?” Levi asks.

 

“Yeah, just...here at Avoidance with Dominique and her parents and Mari and Fran.  Dom and Fran brought back all this stuff,” Jesus aims the phone at the small pile of food.  “And I was wondering if you’d mind hanging out while I was super rude and ate in front of you?”

 

Saying that almost snags Jesus’s mind in a major way.  Eating in front of Jesus when he was starving was one of His favorite things to do.  But luckily, Levi holds up some beef jerky and takes a bite. “You won’t be rude. I’m eating, too.  Cleo, stop. You can’t have this, or you’ll start farting…” Levi warns, laughing.

 

Just like that, a laugh explodes out of Jesus.  Around the table, everyone else is laughing, too.

 

Off camera, Jesus can hear Pearl scolding Cleo and smiling.  She comes into the frame briefly to gather the dog, and waves.

 

Tears stream down Jesus’s face, but a different kind.  He’s happy. And he’s sad.

 

And maybe that’s okay.

 

Jesus thinks of Isaac’s spirit, or his essence, hanging out here. 

 

Thinks that maybe he’s laughing, too.

 

Jesus manages to unwrap his cookie.  Takes a bite. 


	6. Remedy

Pearl carefully packages Jesus and Mariana’s gifts in a large box.  She’s knitted some dishcloths for Jesus, knowing he doesn’t have a dishwasher, and a pink beanie hat for Mariana.  Pearl knows they don’t get snow in San Diego, but she thinks Mari might not hate having something cute to wear - an extra layer there.  (Pearl gets it’s not the same, but post her own trauma? She craved extra layers. Always felt cold. Exposed. So, she wonders if Mariana is the same.)

 

She’s put together a couple small albums of pictures of herself, Levi and Cleo.  It has pictures of the lake, at sunrise. The dock. Francesca sent some pictures she took.  And Dominique did the same. Out of respect, Pearl made sure to ask all of them (especially those pictured) if they consented to the particular picture being included.)  Jesus’s has more of the dock, of Cleo, of Pearl. Mariana’s has more of Fran, of Levi, of Dominique.

 

Levi has spent the past couple of months filling a notebook with letters to Mariana.  While Pearl hasn’t read them, and gave Levi her word that she wouldn’t, she’s touched at the thoughtfulness of the gift to their friend.

 

Something dings on her phone, and Pearl glances at it.  A message from Jesus. Her insides sink. Isaac’s birthday.  Crap.

 

Pearl drops everything.  Sends a message back.

 

_ So sorry.  I’m here if you need me.  So proud of you for reaching out. _

 

The mention of Isaac has Pearl scouring her kitchen for what she knows she has on hand - or should have on hand - especially with Levi working at the store in town.  But she can’t find Hostess cupcakes anywhere.

 

But when Levi comes home from work later that afternoon, Pearl has an idea of what Jesus and Mariana call their “twinbrain.”  Because Levi’s carrying Hostess cupcakes. Chocolate pudding. Sprite.

 

“Oh, my God, are you psychic?  I love you!” Pearl exclaims, jumping up from the couch, and closing the distance fast between herself and Levi.

 

She sees the second when the fear flashes in her brother’s eyes.  How he freezes. Pearl makes herself take a deep breath. Take several steps back.  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

 

“Carla...she rushed at me like that?” Levi offers quietly, averting his eyes.  “She was mad, but sometimes...I can’t really tell? Like, with rushing? If you’re mad, or?”

 

“I’m not mad at you.  I promise,” Pearl says striving for as much calm as she can.

 

Warily, Levi squats and pets Cleo, who’s sniffing at his shoes.

 

“Why?” he asks, not looking at her.

 

“Honestly?  I was excited that you brought Hostess cupcakes for Jesus?  He messaged today, and he’s sad about his friend, and those make him feel better.  I checked and we didn’t have any here.”

 

“Yeah, I got the message,” Levi nods.  “I didn’t know about the cupcakes - like the reason - or whatever?  But I saw them at SuperOne today and I thought about him. That he might like them.”

 

“He will,” Pearl reassures.  “I am sorry. For rushing at you.  I didn’t mean to scare you and I’m so sorry I did.”

 

Levi swallows.  Nods. “I get nervous...when anything fast happens…”

 

“Ah…  Well, I will remember that,” Pearl promises.  She takes out her phone and adds a memo that reads: DO NOT RUSH AT LEVI.

 

“Is that their presents?” Levi asks, finally coming closer, Cleo cuddled in his arms, licking his face.

 

“Yeah, almost ready.  Except. No cards. Darn it all!”  Pearl exclaims.

 

“I stopped by the Walgreens in Brainerd and got them,” Levi reassures, taking out two birthday cards.  They’re photo cards. Of Pearl, Levi and Cleo all posed on the couch together. They’re identical pictures, but one reads:  _ Happy birthday Mariana, Love, The Wests  _ and the other reads _ Happy birthday Jesus, Love, The Wests _ .

 

“Levi, these are really sweet.  We were gonna use them for Christmas cards though, right?” she asks, remembering how difficult it had been to get Cleo to look at the camera.

 

“Well, I thought maybe this way we could do a holiday card that’s like, us in ugly Christmas sweaters or something?” he asks.  “You could even knit one for Cleo?” he bargains.

 

“Okay, I love that idea.  And these cards turned out amazingly well.  But I think we should check in on Jesus and Mariana, and ask about any gift-sending accommodations.”

 

“Right.  I can do the post office run,” Levi volunteers.

 

They call and talk to Mariana.  Jesus is driving. Mariana passes along their questions about how much Jesus wants to know about what they’re sending.  Levi promises he can send pics of the package before it’s sent so Jesus will know what it looks like. Tell him when it’s arriving.

 

Jesus asks if they can send it to Mariana, not to the apartment.  If the gifts inside can stay unwrapped.

 

Pearl and Levi agree.

 

“What are they for?” Jesus asks.

 

“I’m sorry?” Pearl wonders.  

 

“I’m asking...like...are they loaded?  Is there any, like, strings?” Jesus clarifies, nervous, his eyes on the road.

 

“No strings,” Pearl reassures.  “These are birthday gifts. From friends who want you to know we care about you.”

 

“As?” Jesus prompts.

 

“As a human,” Levi fills in.

 

“Can I know...like...is anything you’re sending, like...different?” Jesus wonders.

 

“What do you mean?” Pearl asks.

 

“Like...will I recognize it as….” Jesus sends a searching glance to Mariana.

 

“Nothing like, out of left field?” Mariana checks.

 

“It’s all stuff we’ve seen you both enjoy,” Pearl reassures.  We won’t wrap anything. Mariana, your address is the same? Like, your Moms haven’t moved?”

 

“No,” Mariana answers.

 

“Okay,” Jesus breathes.  “Thanks. Sorry. I just…  It’s today, and I hate today.  And birthdays…. I was never really allowed to celebrate on my actual birthday.  No one could even know when it was...so...I have a hard time with it. Even though I love celebrating with you, Mari.”

 

“Aw, me, too,” she smiles.

 

“Oh, so I can send that pic before I send it, and I can also get a tracking number for you guys.  So you know exactly where it is.”

 

“Thanks,” Jesus says, wiping his eyes under his sunglasses.

 

“You okay?” Pearl offers, sympathetic.

 

“I mean, no.  But yeah. It’s a good thing?  Your box?” Jesus checks.

 

“A very good thing,” Pearl reassures.

 

“Okay.” Jesus takes a steadying breath.  “That helps, then.”

 

\--

 

Michael pours himself into making Mariana and Jesus some amazing tiramisu on the morning of Jesus and Mariana’s birthday.  If he remembers right, Mariana’s got a specific lane as far as food. No red meat, he remembers that. And Dominique gave him the nudge that since their last trip, she’d also dropped dairy.  So, Michael set out to find a recipe for dairy free tiramisu.

 

Here’s the thing: he loves cooking and baking for people.  Loves it. Back when Dominique… Well, the doctor suggested Michael find a way to cope that allowed him to express himself.  Always an anxious person, then, his anxiety had peaked. He was having nightmares every night. Panic attacks driving by the rec center.

 

The doc said it hadn’t mattered what Michael chose.  Could be a support group, could be a sport. For Michael, it was neither.  Because there was something about being in the kitchen that was therapeutic for him.  Looking up a specific recipe that precisely suited to the person he was baking for. Locating all the correct ingredients.  Putting them together in a way that made sense? In a way that nourished people? Well, that helped.

 

And, actually, even though baking is usually a solo endeavor - Dominique has come around today, asking if he’d mind some help.

 

“Not at all.  I’d love some,” he smiles.

 

She’s dressed in the suit.  (Michael gets now, that doing that allows Dom to show up.  To be here in the same space as him. Also? Jaimie’s home, and that probably allows Dom the reassurance that she is not one on one with male energy.)

 

Dominique keeps her distance, dipping gluten free lady fingers in cold decaf coffee (Jesus isn’t a big coffee drinker) at the dining room table, while Michael stays in the kitchen working on the cream filling. (Jaimie’s in the living room, in Dominique’s eyeline.)

 

“You know, I always dreamed of getting to do this together…” Michael ventures.

 

He sees Dominique tense.  Draw a breath and let it out slowly:  “Let’s… Can we not talk? I mean…”

 

“You’d rather just focus on the recipe?” Michael asks.  “I got you. How’s the first layer?”

 

“Coming together,” Dominique offers, glancing at him with a small smile.

 

Roberta, Dominique’s cat (named for the Good Samaritan who lent Dom her phone and bought her enough time for help to arrive) is sniffing at Dominique’s ingredients.  Purring.

 

“You don’t get this.  Not for you,” Dominique tells the cat.  “So Mariana and Jesus? They tell you that they decided to have the party at Jesus’s?  He said maybe like 5:30 for cake and stuff? So Fran and Mari don’t have to be up too late.”

 

“Hey, Dominique?” Jaimie calls from the living room.  “We have a couple of things for them? Gift bags still the way to go?” she checks.

 

“Yeah, and call Jesus maybe?  Well, wait. I’ll call him. You can talk to him.  That way his number stays private.”

 

“Sounds good.”

 

Michael tries not to listen in as Dominique gets Jesus on the phone and passes it to Jaimie.

 

“Hey, Jesus.  How are you feeling?  I know it’s been a tough week,” Jaimie offers, the way she does.  Always letting the people she’s thinking about know they’re on her mind.  “...That’s good. Listen. We’ve got some things for you and Mariana tonight. I remember you’re not a fan of wrapping paper.  ...Yeah, we did gift bags at Dominique’s birthday. Would that work again, or…? No, that’s no problem at all, Jesus. It’s your stuff.  If you need it not to be wrapped, we won’t wrap it at all. Sure. Questions are cool. You won’t be expected to pay us back in any way. Exactly.  Like Pearl said, then. This is friend stuff. To show you we care - yes - about you as a person. Great. Can’t wait to see both of you tonight. It’s 5:30 still?  All right, Michael and Dominique are working on the tiramisu now, so it should be ready in plenty of time. All right, see you then. Bye.”

 

Michael watches as Jaimie stands up and walks slowly over to where Dominique’s standing.  She’s not soaking anymore lady fingers.

 

\--

 

“Hey, babe?” Jaimie asks, approaching Dominique slowly.  She wonders if Dom even knows she’s crying.

 

Dominique sniffs.  “What?”

 

Jaimie just waits, looking at her daughter.  Knows that Jesus isn’t the only one who’s had a tough time recently.  Jaimie took time off work at the end of last month, so she could camp out with Dominique.  Say what you will about motherhood, but Jaimie relishes the moments she gets to drop everything and be there for her baby girl.  She’s not glad Dom’s in pain - it guts Jaimie. But there had been so much time when she was sure she’d never get this chance again.

 

Jaimie opens up her arms, in case Dom needs them.  Jaimie watches as she hesitates, casting a look at the kitchen, where Michael has busied himself with the cocoa and cream.

 

Dominique wavers, swallowing her tears.  Raising her chin. Grief shines clear in her eyes.  Her hands shake.

 

“Can you--?” Dominique asks, nodding down at the baking dish.  

 

Jaimie steps up to the table.  Stands alongside Dominique and soaks lady fingers in decaf, because it’s what Dominique needs.  Jaimie aches to hold her. But doesn’t. Holding Dominique would help Jaimie now, but it would feel dangerous for Dominique.

 

Clearing her own throat, Jaimie blinks, her heart breaking at her daughter’s sadness.  At her own sadness, bone deep. 

 

Dominique reaches into the pocket of her suit.  Takes out the Hermione wand that Jaimie made back before Dom moved out.  (There must be a hole cut in that pocket…) Jaimie can hear Dominique murmuring under her breath, waving the wand back and forth a little between them, her hand still at her side.

 

“What, babe?” Jaimie asks.  “What spells are those?” (Jaimie’s not a Harry Potter fan - that’s Michael - but she recognizes magic when she hears it.)

 

Dominique raises her head, tears still there on her face and whispers, “All the healing ones…”

 

“Can you teach me?” Jaimie whispers back.

 

Slowly, Dominique starts to speak.  Slowly, Jaimie lets herself learn. 

 

They speak magic words to each other.  Over Jesus and Mari’s tiramisu. Jaimie even catches Dom flicking the wand in Michael’s direction in the kitchen, sharing some with him.

 

Jaimie breathes, feeling beyond proud.  She loves the hell out of her daughter.


	7. 9 Crimes

Mariana knows it’s not cool, but she waited until she and Fran were out of the house for most of a day to text Moms and let them know birthday plans.

 

Usually, it went without saying that all birthdays were celebrated at home.  Sometimes out to dinner (if your name was Brandon), sometimes a surprise party that no one was allowed to spoil (Callie and Jude.)  For Mari, Jesus and even Fran, though? Things were different. Jesus and Mariana’s birthday usually landed about a week post Mother’s Day, so it was always a joint thing.  And Fran’s birthday was sometimes a combo deal with Stef’s.

 

In short, they rarely got to do their own thing.  And turning 23? Well, it was about time they got to.  Mariana was expecting it when her phone blew up moments after Jesus called to tell them the plan, while walking Dudley.

 

“What?” Mariana had asked tiredly.

 

“What do you mean,  _ what _ ?” Mama had snapped.  “You just decided that you’re going to celebrate at Jesus’s this year?  Your brothers and sister were coming back into town for the big Mother’s Day/birthday family dinner.  It’s not just about you, Mariana.”

 

“It’s  _ my  _ birthday,” Mariana had maintained.  (No one knew she barely remembered her last birthday, only two months after coming out of her coma.  Just barely home from the hospital.)

 

“That’s where you’re wrong, Miss Thang.  In case you forgot? We share things in this family.  Mom and I will be celebrating at home, like usual with the rest of the family.  You and Jesus are welcome to join us.”

 

That was it.  Lena had hung up.

 

Mariana didn’t know how, but Moms always managed to work in some little jab about the accident.  “ _ In case you forgot _ ,” seemed like a normal thing to say.  Except now? They used it as ammunition.  Proof of just how they saw her now. As an annoying pile of symptoms and not a daughter.  Not a human being. 

 

Now that it’s the day of their birthday?  Mariana’s worried about a million things. How they’ll make sure Fran can be at the party she wants to attend (Mari’s and Jesus’s, with Dominique, Jaimie and Michael.)  

 

The first indication that things were going to suck came when she and Jesus went to pick up Fran from school.

 

“She’s not here,” Fran’s classmate, Kimani Jackson offers helpfully.  Mariana’s stomach sinks like a stone.

 

“Where is she?” Jesus asks, white-knuckling the wheel.

 

“Mrs. Adams Foster came and signed her out a little early,” Kimani shrugs.  “Francesca said you were supposed to get her, but she’s the principal and Fran’s mom.  I guess y’all know how that is. Both of y’all gotta listen to her.” Kimani wrinkles her nose.  Her eyes scrunch behind her glasses.

 

Jesus sighs.  “Thanks, Kimani.”  He hits the button to shut the window.  “Damn it…” he swears quietly.

 

“She was so excited…” Mariana offers softly.  Sadly.

 

“Leave it to Moms to use her as a freakin’ bargaining chip…” Jesus seethes.

 

“Hey…  Since it’s just us…” Mariana ventures, reaching down into the backpack she brought along.  The Wests box is in there. But so is something else. “Here.” She reaches across to the front seat and drops the second item on the seat.

 

A smile breaks over Jesus’s face.  “Dude, you remembered. Oh, my God, it’s my grape Uncrustable…  You’re gonna have one with me, right? I know you kinda hate peanut butter, but it’s tradition, right?”

 

“And they’re thawed…” Mariana says with a smile.

 

“Bonus,” Jesus nods, grinning back.  “Oh, BTW. Found this for you,” he says, handing back the single wrapped strawberry jelly Uncrustable.  “Thawed.”

 

For a second, their sadness about not having Fran there to pick up lifts as they enjoy their sandwiches.  It’s a private tradition - just between the two of them - that each year, they find these sandwiches and eat one together.  Each had their own favorite flavor. The sense memory of the sandwiches is unique to them. Sandwiches like these? Already made?  Kept Jesus and Mariana alive when they were young. They lived off these - and loved them - when they were kids.

 

Stef and Lena had never been big on packaged and processed food.  But when they turned fourteen - their first birthday together after Jesus got back - Mariana found the sandwiches in Target and they each ate one in the DL.  Every year since, they’ve done the same. 

 

“Did we do this last year?” Mariana checks.

 

“I got them for us.  We had them when I hung out at home with you and Moms were at the movies.  Figured it was the least I could do. You’re usually the one finding them for us.”

 

“Good, I’m glad we didn’t miss a year,” Mariana nods.  “We should go. Be ready for when people start showing.  Happy birthday.”

 

“Happy birthday,” Jesus returns.

 

\--

 

Jesus listens to the Polo Fran sends after they finish their sandwiches.

 

“I told them I have to bring over your birthday presents and they said if you don’t come you shouldn’t get any.  But I really will give you yours even if you don’t come over.” Fran promises. She wipes her eyes. “I really wanted to come to your party at your house… I asked if I could, since I already gave Moms’ their Mother’s Day cards on real Mother’s Day but they said no.  It’s family time.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jesus says in a video back.  “We’ll figure out a way to get you here. We promise.”

 

“Yeah, we promise,” Mariana adds.

 

Jesus’s day brightens even more when he comes home to all three Williamses in the parking lot.  Michael’s carrying tiramisu. Dominique’s got what looks like two frames. Jaimie’s carrying her purse and two shirts.

 

“Happy birthday,” Dominique calls, smiling.  “Hey, where’s Fran?” she asks, looking around.

 

“We’re gonna work on getting her here,” is all Jesus says.  “Can I help carry anything? What’s all this?” he asks. 

 

“One for you, one for Mariana,” Dominique tells Jesus, handing him the two framed pictures of all six of them at the cabin.  Then, she moves quickly to Mariana’s side to give her a hand.

 

“Thank you so much, Dominique.  These are amazing.” Jesus says.

 

“I wanna see, but I should wait ‘til I’m sitting,” Mariana manages.

 

They get inside and Jesus immediately sets one picture in front of Mariana.  “Look. We can have all of us together. Wherever we are.”

 

“That was the idea, yeah,” Dominique smiles.

 

“This is so perfect,” Mariana gushes.  “Thank you so much.”

 

“Is it too soon for tiramisu?  Should I put this in the fridge?” Michael asks.

 

“Never too soon.  You can leave it out,” Jesus invites.

 

“So, listen.  Mariana, I saw this the other day and I don’t know why but it just spoke to me about you,” Jaimie hands Mariana a brightly colored, roomy tee, that reads  _ Take Me To The Ocean _ , with waves in the background.  Jesus knows without confirming it with his sis that this is perfect Mari - even more perfect for her now - as she has sensory issues and prefers clothes that are more drapey.

 

“Ooh, thank you…  This is so perfect.  I could sleep in this,” she says admiring it.  “Thank you so much.”

 

“And we love the ocean,” Jesus adds.  “That’s so you, Mari.”

 

“And Jesus, I saw this shirt and I thought of you first thing.  I hope clothing is an okay gift. It’s just...Well, when you see it, I hope it’ll make sense.  Why you came to mind.” Jaimie offers him the gray tee shirt and Jesus takes it hesitantly.

 

He shakes it out, and a laugh bubbles out of him.  On the shirt, a chocolate bar and a carton of milk are shaking hands.  Under it? The caption reads  _ Chocolate Milkshake _ .

 

“Because of my  _ Best Friends _ bacon and eggs shirt?” Jesus asks, a tentative smile on his face.

 

“You bet,” Jaimie answers.  “We love that shirt. It really shows your personality.  So, we thought you might like another.”

 

“Yeah, for sure,” Jesus nods, putting an arm around Jaimie briefly.  “Thank you,” and while he’s near her, Jesus checks, “Still just a shirt?”

 

“Still just a shirt,” Jaimie confirms.

 

Mariana stands and hugs Jaimie, too.  “I wish I could change into this right now.  I love it. Thank you.” 

 

Jesus can’t resist either and Michael says he’ll cut the tiramisu while Dominique calls to see if Fran can come to the party and Jaimie gets plates and silverware out of the cupboard.  Jesus ducks into the bathroom and locks the door, putting his new shirt on. He knows Mariana’s in the spare room with his laptop and a chair to sit down on while she changes.

 

“No answer,” Dominique says, making a face.  

 

Jesus picks up the Avoiders photo.  “I wanna figure out where to put this.  I love it.”

 

“We can’t forget the Wests.  I have their box here. We could open it on Marco Polo so they can see…  I mean, if you want,” Mariana offers, looking to Jesus.

 

Jesus is distracted, calling Fran, too, but again, gets no answer.

 

“Yeah, let’s…” he agrees, and Dominique offers to be videographer while they open the box.

 

“Okay, wow,” Jesus says, beaming as he takes out the Hostess cupcakes, Sprite and pudding, with a note attached saying Levi saw them and thought of him.  “Levi, thanks so much. Your timing on this is amazing.” Jesus blinks back some tears. (He can’t see this stuff and not think of Isaac. It touches him, just how much his Avoider fam - even the newest ones - like Levi, Jaimie and Michael - pay attention.)

 

Next he finds a photo album with a note saying it’s for Jesus.  A similar one for Mari. Inside each, they find pictures from their week at the cabin.  Jesus’s only has ones that he knew his friends were taking of him, plus some great ones of the cabins (Grandpa’s and Pearl and Levi’s) plus the other Avoiders just hanging out together.  He finds knitted dishcloths in bright yellow at the bottom of the box, labeled for him, too, from Pearl.

 

“Thank you, Pearl, how’d you know I needed these?” he asks, smiling at the camera.

 

\--

 

Mariana goes next, looking at her photo album, which has different pictures in it from Jesus’s.  She finds a pink knitted hat with a note.

 

“Can we pause?” she asks Dominique and then, she hands the note to Jesus asking, “Can you?”

 

Jesus accepts the note and reads it aloud quietly.  Doing his best to take his time:

 

_ Mariana, I want you to know that I thought of this from a trauma perspective.  After my own trauma, I craved layers and was always cold. While cold may not be an issue for you in California, I thought an extra layer on your head might curb some of the vulnerability.  I didn’t send it because I feel like you should cover your hair or be ashamed. Just wanted to be clear. Happy birthday, Love, Pearl _

 

Mariana puts the hat on, and it goes really well with the shirt Jaimie got her.  The same pinks are in both. Mariana beams, wiping tears from her eyes. She nods at Dominique, so she knows to start another video.

 

They find the birthday cards belatedly and open them together.  “Oh, my gosh, I love this! Look!” Mariana shows the card, that has Pearl and Levi sitting side by side on the couch with Cleo between them.  Levi has a slight smile on his lips. Cleo’s head is resting in Pearl’s lap and Pearl is smiling, too and looking at ease.

 

“Can I see?” Jaimie asks, and she takes her time looking, with Michael, the same as they both did when Jesus shared his picture of Isaac.

 

“That’s so sweet.  You three have some sweet friends.”

 

“Tiramisu time?” Michael checks.  “I did put it in the fridge, Jesus, ‘cause it was starting to look a little sad.”

 

“Wait. There’s one more,” Jesus reaches in the box and pulls out a blue and white speckled composition notebook.  On the cover it says,

 

For Mariana

 

Hesitantly, Mariana opens the cover and reads the first page.  Levi’s done a haiku, reminding her of Jesus’s Christmas gifts to all of them years ago.  This one is no less meaningful:

 

_ I know words are hard _

_ So, I’ll write them in phrases. _

_ Carry me with you. _

 

Blushing, Mariana closes the book, and tries to address the camera.  But an odd mix of happiness and fear combine to make words impossible.

 

“Good gift?” Jesus checks.

 

Mariana nods.

 

“Levi, it’s a good gift,” Jesus passes along easily.  “Thank you both. We love them. And we miss you. This is awesome.  And tracking the box really did help.”

 

“Miss you,” Mari finally manages, around the lump in her throat.

 

Finally, Dominique turns off the camera.

 

Mariana’s still holding the notebook.

 

\--

 

There is no party at Moms’. 

 

Brandon and Talya, Callie and Ximena, Jude and Noah?  Nobody comes. So there’s all this food - pizza from Cucina (which Jesus’s trauma would hate.)  And nobody even there to eat it all. Just Fran and Moms. 

 

It doesn’t taste even close to as good as the Minnesota bacon cheeseburger pizza.

 

Moms are super obvious about blaming the fact that nobody came on Mari and Jesus.  And there just is no specialness of the day, besides, without Jesus and Mariana. Brandon already sent Moms flowers.  Fran has her two cards that she made at school and gave them already. (Just  Happy Mother’s Day, Love, Francesca on both this time.  No extra writing to make them wish they didn’t have a sixth kid…)  It worked.

 

“Well, we might as well drop this stuff off for your brother and sister,” Mom sighs.  After a half-boring, half-scary dinner, where Moms took turns being really silent and really angry.  Mama’s bringing out a giant box filled with, like, probably four presents each for Jesus and Mariana.  All of them are wrapped in wrapping paper with balloons. Fran bites her lip.

 

“Jesus doesn’t like wrapping paper,” Fran reminds them softly.

 

“He’ll live,” Mom says shortly.  “He can tolerate a lot more than he thinks he can.”

 

They get out to the car and she reaches to turn her phone back on.  Moms made her keep it off during dinner, because it kept dinging with Jesus and Mari and Dominique trying to figure out how to come get her.

 

Fran quick turns the volume down and sends a Polo to Jesus (and all the Avoiders) where she types:

 

_ Moms otw w presents (rapping paper)  _ with a line of scared faces.  She deletes and adds.  _ Tryed to tell them no for you Jesus sorry…. _

 

She sends the message just as Moms are pulling into the parking lot of Jesus and Dominique’s apartments.

 

\--

 

Mariana’s phone chimes with a Polo just as Jesus’s rings, with his front door ringtone.

 

“Crap,” Mariana says, showing Jesus the Polo.

 

He nods grimly and talks to Francesca, buzzing them inside.

 

Mariana doesn’t have time to warn Dominique or Jaimie or Michael that the party’s about to be crashed.

 

In a minute flat, there’s a knock with the heavy brass knocker.  Jesus jumps. Dominique jumps. Michael jumps. Even Jaimie looks startled.  Jesus presses his lips together and opens the door.

 

“Hey, Moms,” he greets them.  Both just walk past him and stand still.  Mariana watches as both paste on fake smiles.  Lena’s is more believable than Stef’s. 

 

“We didn’t know the twins had company,” Stef says.

 

At the same time, Lena’s approaching Dominique, “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

 

“We actually have,” Dominique says, and Mariana loves her even more.  “Last fall. I’m Dominique Williams.”

 

Michael is shaking hands with Stef, introducing himself and Jaimie.  

 

“Jesus, Mari and Fran are wonderful.  We love getting to see them,” Jaimie adds.

 

“That’s nice of you,” Stef says, like her face is gonna break from trying to be happy.

 

Mariana watches, horrified, as Lena freezes with a hand extended to shake Dominique’s - gives her a quick once-over - and then says, “Oh, right.”  (She never actually shakes Dominique’s hand.)

 

“Yeah, Mama, you already met Dominique before, because I went to her birthday,” Fran reminds, standing in front of Dominique and wrapping Dominique’s arms around Fran from behind.

 

“Okay, thank you.  This one has a memory like a steel trap, apparently,” Stef jokes.  She stops by Dominique. Doesn’t shake her hand either. But studies her right wrist with the yellow  _ Avoiders Unite _ bracelet on it.  “Ah, you have one of these, too.”

 

Dominique raises her eyes.  Meets Mariana’s gaze. They both can hear the judgement in Stef’s tone.

 

Stef turns to Michael.  “I don’t know what your take is on all this ‘avoider’ stuff, but I don’t think it’s very healthy…”  

 

“When you consider what they’re avoiding, it’s very healthy,” Michael counters softly.

 

“Why don’t you go give Jesus and Mariana their gifts, Frankie?” Stef says, ignoring Michael’s answer altogether.

 

Mariana notices the side-eye that Fran gives Stef at the nickname Fran asked them to quit using three years ago.  But Moms, Brandon, Callie and Jude all keep using it. Fran recovers fast, though.

 

“Here’s these for you guys!” Francesca presents Mariana and Jesus with hand-drawn, personalized sloth pictures.

 

Mariana’s sloth is napping in a tree.  And Jesus’s is slowly eating a cookie. “I love these,” Mariana says.  

 

“I do, too, buddy, thank you.” Jesus tells Francesca.

 

Now, Stef turns to Jesus.  Eyes the table, strewn with tiramisu, coffee and water cups, judging them hard.  Again.

 

“So, birthday son and birthday daughter…” Stef calls.  “If memory serves, you’re turning 23 today. No adult beverages to celebrate?  Miss Thang, you’re not on anti-seizure meds anymore, so even _ you’re _ in the clear… That should make your day...” she says cryptically. 

 

“What?” Mariana asks, hurt.  Her head is spinning and splitting with all the noise and with the stress of Moms being here.

 

“Oh, come on.  She didn’t mean anything by it,” Lena reassures, giving Mariana a perfunctory squeeze.

 

“Come here,” Jesus says to Stef, nodding at his spare room.  (His apartment is small. Voices carry. So as quiet as they try to be, Jesus’s need for open doors, and Stef’s inability to whisper mean they can all hear every word.)

 

“What?” Stef whispers, which sounds like her regular speaking voice.

 

“Really, Mom?  You’re coming to our birthday now, talking about drinking?  You have a problem.”

 

Mariana can feel Stef’s embarrassment from here, as Lena tries to distract by asking who made the tiramisu.  

 

“Dominique and Michael did,” Francesca answers.  “Can I please have some?” she asks sweetly.

 

“Of course you can,” Michael answers, going to cut her a piece.

 

But Mariana’s using all her energy to concentrate on Stef in the office, trying to redirect attention away from Jesus insinuating that she’s a wine-o.  

 

“If you’re going to judge anyone for drinking, Jesus, you need to look no further than Miss Thang,” Stef hisses.

 

Mariana watches as Jesus’s eyes flash a mix of anger (at Stef) and protectiveness (of herself, she’s sure.)  “What are you talking about?” he asks lowly.

 

“That’s why she crashed last year, hello?!  Her blood alcohol level was sky-high but the cops made it go away.  As a favor to me. So if you wanna judge somebody for drinking, judge away,” Stef says, walking away from Jesus and sending a cold look Mariana’s way.

 

Stef has attempted to pit them against each other.  But, as Callie once said, Stef’s not a twin, so there’s no way she knows what that bond is like.  

 

Still, Mari’s afraid to meet Jesus’s gaze.  Afraid of what his face will show. When she can finally manage it, she makes eye contact.  Jesus raises concerned eyes to meet her own. 

 

Francesca’s stopped with a bite of cake halfway to her mouth to look at Mariana.

 

Her face flushes.  Mariana’s memory is a complete blank the night of the accident and for several days before then.  Those memories have never resurfaced - and they don’t come rushing back now. 

 

“Did you drink and drive?” Francesca asks, scared.  Mariana knows she’s studying drug abuse resistance education in fifth grade - same as all her siblings.

 

“I--” Mariana stutters.

 

“Come on.  Let’s open some gifts,” Lena presses.  “We don’t have all night.”


	8. Used to Be

Jesus can’t say anything.  Not after the bomb that Stef dropped right in the middle of their birthday.  In front of the Williamses, and Fran, and most of all, Mari. Jesus knows that she has zero memory from as far back as a week before the accident and it’s sporadic at best until a couple months after it.

 

There’s no way she’d seen this coming.

 

Jesus remembered a year ago in March.  Getting to UCSD in a rush.

 

He could remember parking with Dudley.  And then walking into Mari’s room. Seeing her hooked up to everything, basically.  Her head wrapped up. Eyes bruised. 

 

There were cops outside of ICU, talking to Stef.  Jesus had heard snatches of the conversation, “ _ twice the legal limit _ ”, “ _ won’t press charges _ ,” “ _ hope she pulls through _ .”

 

In all honesty, Jesus had barely registered the words at the time.  He didn’t care how Mariana had gotten where she was at that moment. Just that she’d live.  

 

But if he’d been honest, it hadn’t surprised him.  With their family history of substance abuse. With how much pressure she put on herself to be perfect.  He remembered her stressing between junior and senior years, keeping hella late hours. Seeming to have an excess of energy.  His ADHD meds going missing for a time.

 

And Jesus knew Mari drank.  It wasn’t like that was a secret.  Jesus didn’t like to, because it reminded him too much of being There - of dissociating.  He hated the feeling of not being in control. Mari’s drinking had picked up before the accident.  They’d been in touch less. Her Insta showed pics of her partying. He’d tried to check in. She’d insisted she was fine and to stop worrying.

 

But Jesus knew what it was like to have to numb yourself.

 

He can’t tear his eyes away from Mariana, who looks pale and stunned right now.

 

Lena’s still pushing for presents to be opened ASAP.  She’s moved the tiramisu from the table, to the counter.  Jesus goes to refrigerate it, at least.

 

When Jesus has finally put it off as long as he can, he sits down at the table next to Mariana.  He regards the box of wrapped gifts warily - flashing back to countless instances where Jesus’s abductor surprised him with something Jesus had really wanted, and once he opened it?  Liked it? Well, then Jesus was in major debt. And it seemed the “collection” phase never really ended. Like real live debt, Jesus felt in over his head for years, trying to make up for the calendar, the clothes, the roof over his head, the bike, even the video games He eventually gave in and let Jesus have.

 

“I can take these in the hall and take the wrapping off,” Fran volunteers.

 

“No, Frankie.  This is Jesus and Mariana’s birthday.  Not yours. Come on, you two. Open them up,” Stef urges.

 

Taking a deep breath, Jesus works the tape off the end of one box.  A glance at Mari shows that she’s still way shut down. Trying to get into presents is hard for her, now, too, with her nerve damage.  (He can’t bring himself to look at Dominique or her parents right now. Jesus is so humiliated.)

 

“Use your left hand,” Lena coaches Mariana and Jesus tenses to the point that Dudley is alerted and starts making sure he’s still with it, not disappeared into his mind a million miles away.

 

Mariana’s trying, but listening to the paper rip slowly is agonizing.  Out of consideration for each other, they always try to open stuff at the same pace, especially if they got stuff from the same people.

 

Finally, Mariana gets into her present.  So Jesus takes the lid off the box. Finds an Amazon gift card.  “That’s from your brothers and sister,” Stef insists, like Jesus and Mari didn’t read the label.

 

“Yeah, they dropped it off when they came last week for Mother’s Day.  That’s probably why they didn’t come back again this soon, right? Callie said it’s because they love you guys but they have lives,” Fran passes along.

 

Jesus can’t stop looking at the Amazon gift card.  He used to buy so much crap from Amazon that That House?  Was littered with boxes.

 

“They thought since we can never get you to go shopping, Jesus, that this might be the way to go,” Stef passes along, and it’s so not helpful.

 

Jesus is nodding before he knows what his body is doing.

 

The next two gifts are worse: he and Mariana unwrap a legit his and hers burberry cologne and perfume set.  They’re coordinated in similar bottles. Mari’s is pink and smells like a musky flower shop. Jesus knows for a fact that she can’t handle fragrances, especially heavy ones.

 

And in some doubly cruel twist of fate, the men’s version (in a metallic looking bottle)  smells like dirt, wood, smoke and almost caramel? God, it’s the worst. It smells sharp. And it doesn’t bring Jesus himself to mind at all - but Him.

 

“What’s it smell like?  Try it on!” Lena’s urging.  “I found those and thought of you two.  You know, because they had one of each.”

 

Jesus wants to pass.  Hard. Because he knows that smelling this crap is gonna make Mariana’s head feel worse than usual.  But he’s in submissive mode. Close to Level 3 automatic, but not quite there, because there are enough safe people.

 

But there aren’t enough people to break through Jesus’s feeling of being dominated right now.  He sprays cologne on himself. And Moms walk forward and smell his wrist, talking about how perfect the fragrance is.

 

Stef just walks up to Mariana and sprays perfume on her.  Jesus thinks about what Pearl said about Carla dressing her.  And about how their moms are similar. He shivers. Mariana looks miserable as Stef sprays some on her own wrist and smells it.  

 

“That’s so you,” she decides. “And Jesus, yours, too.  Mama sure knows how to pick fragrances, right?”

 

“Right.” Jesus echoes.

 

“Yeah,” Mari agrees.

 

But neither one of them are really here.

 

\--

 

Dominique can’t stand it anymore and she stands up from Jesus’s couch.  She walks over to where Mariana’s sitting, dragging a chair as she goes, and setting it up right beside Mari.  Seeing her, Fran gets up to do the same, beside Jesus.

 

She can see that they’re struggling.  And just sitting quietly, watching with Mom and Dad is starting to feel like betrayal.  Avoiders don’t just let each other struggle. They come through for each other.

 

“You want a hand with this?” Dominique asks picking up the next gift.  Mari nods.

 

Fran mimics this, picking up Jesus’s next gift and asking, “Do you want a hand with this, buddy?”

 

Dominique watches Jesus nod, and she gets the feeling that he’d go along with anything right now.  The wrapping paper, the pressure, the clutter, all of it is probably messing with his trauma.

 

Francesca turns her back and quickly rips the paper off.  “It’s shoes,” Fran says, holding one in each hand.

 

“They’re skateboarding shoes,” Stef, the police officer says, proud of herself.

 

“Your shoes say 11.5,” Fran whispers to Jesus, “But these say 9.”

 

“It’s okay,” Jesus says.  

 

“But you don’t even skateboard--” Fran objects, worried.  “That was only when you were a little kid--”

 

Just like that, news footage is playing itself in Dominique’s brain.  Eight or nine year old Jesus doing skateboarding tricks in the driveway of the house, just blocks from where he ended up going missing.  Dominique has never actually known Jesus to skateboard, and they’ve been friends for nine months.

 

“Thank you, Mom.  Thank you, Mama,” Jesus says like he’s genuinely happy for a gift he can never use.  His smile’s huge. His eyes look terrified.

 

Dominique angles herself away from Jesus, too, and takes the paper off Mariana’s gift.  Her stomach sinks. She turns back to Mariana, her face apologetic, as she extends the bright yellow book titled:  Coding for Dummies .

 

\--

 

Mariana blinks, feeling heat flood her face.  Moms might as well have slapped her in the face right now.  That’s how she feels. Humiliated. Stung. Small.

 

“Really?” Dominique asks, turning to Lena, who she’s marginally more familiar with.  

 

“Moms!” Francesca exclaims, catching a glimpse of  the book. “I get in trouble for saying that!”

 

“It’s not the same thing, Frankie.  It’s part of a series of books. The  _ for Dummies _ part isn’t because we think Mariana’s a dummy.  It’s because it’s basic-- It’s  _ introductory _ …”

 

Lena keeps talking but Mariana feels herself watching the scene from some high corner of the room.  Lena can say whatever she wants. It won’t reach her.

 

“Honey, it’s goal-reading.  We know you loved coding, okay, and you were so good at it.  We thought this would give you something to work toward,” Lena explains like she’s hurt that Mariana’s hurt she gives terrible gifts.

 

“Let’s get this over with...you good with that?” Dominique asks, and at Mariana’s nod, she unwraps the last gift.  An old as hell, 90’s looking sweatsuit is in the box. Mostly an odd pink color. Baggy. With one teal sleeve, the other pale yellow.  The cuffs and the bottom of the shirt are purple. BEST OF THE BEST is printed in white across the purple section on the front.

 

“Why?” Mariana manages.

 

“What do you mean, why?  Honey, we knew you weren’t up to wearing your usual clothes yet, so Mom picked this out at the store.”

 

Dominique has to swallow her scoff.  The cheap tag on the clothes lets her know the sweatsuit is secondhand - probably a Goodwill castoff.  Dominique really wants to walk across the hall and drop the book, the shoes, the nasty perfume and cologne, the sweatsuit and whatever the hell they got Jesus down the trash chute, but they’ll probably have to wait ‘til after Stef and Lena leave.

 

\--

 

Francesca’s not waiting.  She knows Jesus’s trauma is hating this.  Michael and Jaimie are doing their best to keep the wrapping paper and boxes picked up and away from Jesus.  Moms don’t even care about it, or Jesus, or Mariana.

 

They give the rudest gifts ever.  Francesca takes a deep breath and gives Jesus a heads up: “I’m gonna open this last thing, okay?  You don’t have to listen. Or watch.”

 

“Francesca, he’s fine.  Just, come on,” Mom says, impatient.  (Fran knows he’s obviously not fine. But she hurries anyway, because the sooner she opens this last thing, the sooner there’s no more wrapping paper to scare Jesus.)

 

Opening the box, Fran shows Jesus.  “I...don’t know what these are…” she admits.

 

Mom laughs.  It sounds mean.  “You don’t know what  _ clothes _ are, Francesca?”

 

“Not  _ these  _ clothes,” Fran says back.

 

They look like the super old style of clothes everybody dressed up in back when Mama had her Disco birthday party.  Fran was, like, 4 or 5 or something. The shirt in the box for Jesus is like gross mustard yellow, and rusty orange carpet and white and brown striped.  (The brown stripes are biggest. It has an ugly collar.) And the jeans have weird wide legs at the bottom with patches like somebody got confused and thought it was a quilt not pants.

 

It’s nothing like Jesus wears at all.  But Brandon has this style. Mom was just shopping for him the other day…

 

“Jesus, hold them up.  Let me see,” Mom urges and she has her phone aimed at him without even asking first.

 

Jesus smiles.  It’s a weird too-relaxed smile.

 

“I can go put them on…” Jesus offers, but Mari grabs his hand.

 

“You don’t have to, Jesus,” Fran insists.  “Right, Moms? He hardly even got to eat tiramisu.  And that’s their cake. And it’s so good.” (It actually looked like they  _ did  _ get to eat it, but Francesca’s not good at lying.)

 

Jesus doesn’t get up to change, so that’s good, but he just sits and watches Moms eat tiramisu.  Mari is still hanging onto his hand. Jesus’s isn’t hanging on back. 

 

Francesca hates this birthday.  Hates that Moms ruined it all.

 

\--

 

Michael’s scanning. 

 

He’s blocked out all the nonsense chatter that’s going on, thanks to Jesus, Mari and Fran’s parents performing so hard it makes Michael cringe.

 

He knows things are far from okay.  Knows that until they can get Stef and Lena out of here?  Stress levels are gonna be high for all the Avoiders, Avoider-parents included.

 

He looks from Dominique to Mariana to Jesus to Francesca - back to Jesus.

 

Looks like Jesus has snagged the safety pin that’s attached one of the Goodwill tags on his “new” clothes via a string.  Sitting right there in front of everybody, he casually moves two of his bracelets apart and…

 

“Jesus. Let’s take a walk,” Michael says softly, startling him.

 

“Okay,” Jesus says, standing up.  

 

Cursing silently to himself, Michael knows Jesus still has the pin clutched in his hand.  “You mind if I come along? We can just hang out in the lobby. Check out the vending machines?”

 

Jesus nods.

 

“Jesus, that’s very rude,” Lena comments.

 

But before Jesus can turn around and come back, Michael keeps encouraging him.  “We are gonna be okay. We’re just gonna go find the vending machines.”

 

\--

 

Mariana feels the most alone she’s ever felt.  When Jesus leaves her here? It’s like, what’s she supposed to do?  How can she make nice with Moms while they eat all the rest of the tiramisu she barely got to taste when she’s devastated?  Reeling? From the thing they said about the accident?

 

“Dominique,” Jaimie tells her lowly.  “You feel comfortable taking Mari and Fran to your place for a bit?  I have to talk to Stef and Lena.”

 

“Sure,” Dominique answers, looking relieved for an out.

 

“Hey, hey, hey!  Where do you think you’re going?  Frankie? Miss Thang?” Mom asks.

 

“I asked them to step out so we could talk,” Jaimie reassures.  “Go on,” she says to Dom, Mari and Fran. “It’s okay.”

 

“I don’t see what we need to talk about,” Mari can hear Lena say.  

 

\--As they’re standing in the hall waiting for Dom to unlock the door--

 

“Besides, we need to get going,” Stef insists.

 

“That’s where we agree,” Jaimie’s saying. “You need to leave.”

 

Dominique opens the door, and ushers Mari and Fran safely inside, locking the door behind them.  Mariana lets herself relax a bit, noticing Roberta. She sits on the couch and the cat jumps up beside her, staring with intense yellow eyes.

 

“Yeah,” Mari whispers.  “Tough day.”

 

\--

 

Jesus is out by the vending machine, just like Michael said.  But he’s holding his breath. This is too public to really do anything.  And he knows there’s an expectation. He’s actually wearing the shirt that he and Jaimie got for Jesus.  So, I mean, he’s got to do something to show them he’s grateful.

 

“So…” Jesus offers, clearing his throat.  “What do I--gotta do?”

 

“Well.  Can we start with you giving me that safety pin?” Michael asks lowly.

 

Jesus is surprised but doesn’t show it.  He uncurls his fingers. Drops it into Michael’s hand.

 

“Now what?” Jesus asks warily.  “What do I gotta do? I mean, for the clothes?” he glances down at the new gray shirt.

 

“You don’t have to do anything, Jesus.  It’s just a shirt. A shirt between friends,” Michael tries.

 

“But, like, to prove I’m grateful…” Jesus eyes him.  “Don’t I have to…” Shrug. 

 

“You told us thank you.  And not even that’s required.  I’m making sure you’re safe right now.  That’s what’s happening.”

 

“Like...safe…” Jesus looks like he’s searching his brain for something.

 

“Safe.  So that means nobody can hurt you.  Not even you. You Avoiders, you protect each other, right?”

 

Jesus blinks.  Avoiders. Avoiders weren’t around Then.

 

“Yeah…” Jesus ventures.

 

“So, Dominique told me I’m basically an honorary Avoider, right?  So I can step in if needed. If anybody needs extra protection.”

 

“I don’t need anything,” Jesus denies.  (Always the right answer.)

 

“I hear that.  But is it okay?  Can I protect you anyway?” Michael asks.

 

“I guess...if you want…”  Jesus glances at the vending machine.  “No Junior Mints.”

 

“No, I guess not.  You need some?” Michael asks.

 

Jesus turns and squints at Michael.  “They’re… They  _ were _ ...my safe word?  Back when we were kids?  They don’t really work, though.  ‘Cause Moms aren’t safe.”

 

“Jesus?  In my experience?  Candy tastes good, right?  But then, there’s always a downside.  You rot your teeth, or it runs out. But Avoider-protection?  That does not run out. Ever.” Michael shares.

 

Cutting his eyes briefly to Michael, Jesus offers.  “I’m usually not...comfortable around dudes.”

 

“Okay,” Michael answers.

 

“But you’re different,” Jesus admits.

 

“Okay,” Michael repeats, and Jesus is glad he’s here.  Glad he has that safety pin in his own pocket.

 

\--

 

Fran’s heart is beating just like it did the time Levi grabbed her to stop her from slamming her face into the dock at the cabin.  Only this time, it’s not from a friend surprising her with protection. It’s from Moms outside in the hall.

 

“Francesca!  Mariana!” Mama calls, knocking impatiently on Dominique’s door.  “We’re going!”

 

“You don’t have to do this…” Jaimie says from outside the door.  “Fran and Mari are okay here. Michael and I would be happy to take them home in a bit.”

 

Dominique walks to the door, and Fran shakes her head.  “I don’t wanna go,” she whispers.

 

“Babe, I know that.  But my mom’s outside, too.  I want her to come in.”

 

Dominique opens the door.

 

Mom and Mama are there.  Jaimie’s behind them.

 

“Frankie.  Mariana. Come on.  We’re done,” Mama says, like she’s super mad.

 

Mariana gets up but Francesca blocks her.  “No,” she says to Mama.

 

“Excuse me?” Mom says coming in even though no one invited her.  And Fran was not even talking to her. Mom keeps walking right over to them, not slowing down one inch.

 

Dominique takes a step back.  So do Mari and Fran. 

 

She’s walking like a cop.  Francesca knows stuff about cops.  Knows she has to be careful around them.  Calm.

 

But when Mom reaches out and grabs Fran’s arm, panic wins out over police talks she remembers from Mama.  From Dominique. From Jaimie. From Michael.

 

“ _ I said no _ !” Francesca screams really loud.  (Because she’s really scared. And because all her screams got loosened up from screaming in the car with Mariana that one time at the cabin.)

 

Mom looks around.  Jaimie’s inside now, with her arms crossed.  It’s like nobody’s even breathing. Mom looks mad enough to drag Francesca out but she doesn’t.  She hates when Fran makes a scene in public. But it buys time. Because Mom won’t deal with her when she’s like that in front of company.  Mama won’t either.

 

She lets go of Fran’s arm.  “Fine,” she says. “Have Jesus drive you home later.”

 

When the door closes for real, and Dominique locks it, with Jaimie on the inside?  That’s when Francesca feels 100% safe.


	9. Breathe

For a long time after she and Michael get home, Jaimie can’t settle.  

 

She keeps checking her phone.  The windows. Can’t stop thinking about Francesca and Mariana.  She knows without asking that he’s feeling similar levels of stress for Jesus.  Dominique appeared to cope remarkably well through everything, but if this reassured Jaimie of anything?  It was that she also needed to check in with Dom ASAP.

 

Jaimie’s on her third pass to the bedroom window when Michael finally calls to her.  “Babe, come sit. You gave Mari and Fran your number. Jesus has mine. They’ll call or text if they need us.”

 

Reluctantly, Jaimie exhales and comes to bed, snuggling in next to Michael.

 

“I felt awful dropping Fran and Mariana back off with Lena and Stef.  But there was nothing else to do. With Francesca there, Mariana won’t leave.  I wouldn’t either, if it was one of my sisters…”

 

“I know…” Michael agrees.  “Their parents, Jaimie…”

 

“They’re like a nightmare!” Jaimie exclaims, unprocessed energy buzzing inside her.  A whole hour of sitting by and doing nothing but pick up wrapping paper left Jaimie feeling totally powerless.

 

Which opened the door to a whole host of other feelings.  Feelings she’d dealt with years ago, but that still rear their ugly heads with the right trigger.  And seeing little Francesca pull away from Stef and scream, “ _ no _ ,” like she had?  Not to mention the amazingly insensitive and straight up mean gifts Stef and Lena had given Jesus and Mariana?  Well, it all showed a deep lack of respect.

 

“Just hated not being able to do anything…” Jaimie rants softly.

 

“Brings a lot up...that’s for sure…” Michael ventures.

 

“Now, if that’s your way of trying to get me to talk, no thank you.  I’m fine…” Jaimie insists. It lasts all of four seconds. “I’m just mad as hell.  You talk for a minute, I need to get this under control.”

 

“I don’t know what to say…” Michael admits.  “I really, honestly do not know what to say…” he reaches in his pocket and takes out a safety pin.

 

“What’s that?  And why are you carrying around something that’s gonna stab you in the thigh?”

 

“Safer for me to have it, trust me,” Michael insists softly.

 

Jaimie remembers seeing Michael and Jesus get up and leave right in the middle of everything.  Wonders what the safety pin has to do with any of it. But she knows, if he’s keeping quiet, there’s a good reason for it.

 

“They ate your damn tiramisu,” Jaimie remarks, letting out a breath.

 

Michael winces.  “I know, and it was so good, right?”

 

“So good it’s not fair they finished it off…” Jaimie grumbles.  She looks away. Blinks back tears. “You didn’t see it, Michael.  The way Francesca blocked Mariana and screamed like the way we taught Dom to scream if she was getting grabbed by a stranger.  Except her own mother was doing the grabbing.”

 

“What are we supposed to do?  How do we deal with feeling so...helpless…?” Michael asks.  “I mean, I am glad we were there, but…”

 

“But what good was it?” Jaimie finishes sadly.  “And how awful is it to think that it would have probably been worse if we hadn’t been there?”  Jaimie pauses for a beat that feels too long and then asks, “We’re not like that, are we?”

 

“No, we are not like that,” Michael reassures.  

 

“But like, worst case scenario, Michael: if I was,” Jaimie insists.

 

“If you were...then I’d help you steer back into your lane at the first sign of trouble.  None of this waiting around and supporting each other’s wrong moves.”

 

“Call them out?” Jaimie asks, clearing her throat.

 

“With love, but absolutely.  Call them out,” Michael smiles gently.  “So, pause.”

 

“Pause?” Jaimie asks.

 

“How are you?” Michael checks.

 

“How am I?  I told you already, Michael, I am furious, okay?  I’m done with them, but I can never be really done with them ‘cause I love their kids, and so does Dominique so we gotta make it work with these horrible people--”

 

“Slow your roll,” Michael interrupts.  “I asked about you. How are  _ you _ ?  And you’re telling me all about them.”

 

“Don’t wanna talk about me.  This isn’t about me, Michael, okay?  It’s about them. I finished my counseling 20 years ago, can we let it go, please?”

 

“Listen, I’m not saying talk to me.  But talk to somebody. Okay? Please?” Michael asks.

 

“Well, you  _ are _ my favorite somebody…” Jaimie grins, hoping it hides the tears in her eyes - the breaking in her heart.  On instinct, she leans in to kiss him, but Michael pulls back.

 

“Please don’t use me as a distraction right now,” Michael whispers.  “I’m here. And we don’t have to talk, okay? We don’t have to do anything you’re not 100% here for.”

 

Jaimie settles against Michael’s chest, listening to his heart beat.

 

“Calm-and-rational Michael’s a good fit for you,” Jaimie says softly.

 

“Thank you, and you can be worried or vulnerable or mad as hell with me.  ‘Cause no matter what? You’re my best friend and I got your back…” Michael murmurs.

 

“When I was alone in Jesus’s apartment with them…” Jaimie ventures.  “I had no idea what I was gonna say, Michael. I was shaking. I was so angry.  And under that? I was just plain terrified. People who show such little regard for their own kids? It’s just…  It brought a lot of stuff up.”

 

“Mm-hmm,” Michael confirms, still holding her gently.  “So, what did you say?”

 

“I told ‘em the truth.  They needed to leave. I said, our family loves their kids but that the stress going on wasn’t helping anybody.  I said we’d be happy to drop Mari and Fran off later, and Stef got all abrupt and said “It’s not necessary.” She was set to go but Lena was at the sink washing the tiramisu dishes.  Said it was the least she could do to try to make sure Jesus’s place looked nice.”

 

“Seriously?  Has she met her son?  That place was spotless when we got there.  Only thing that messed it up was all the wrapping paper and boxes, which were--”

 

“--so unnecessary!  Right?” Jaimie finishes.  “Speaking of Jesus… How was he?  How are you?”

 

“Wanted me to hang out down there by the vending machines until Stef and Lena bailed - his words.  The second he heard them talking? It’s like you described with Fran. I could see his pulse in his neck.  Eyes darting. He just went...totally still. Totally quiet. I mean, say what you will about adoption. It’s got its problems, especially transracially but like...these are the parents that were  _ preferable _ for Jesus and Mariana?  That were _ chosen _ for them?  I kinda can’t wrap my head around that.”

 

“Did he come back upstairs, or?” Jaimie asked.  “We didn’t see him.”

 

“No, he asked me to scope out behind his moms to be sure they were gone, and then he checked in at the office down there, right by the doors.  Let his person know whatever he wanted her to know. I didn’t listen, I just hung out there for him.”

 

“Right.  I’m worried about Mariana, too…” Jaimie breathes, thinking back.

 

\--

 

_ Once the door closed behind Stef and Lena, Jaimie invited Mariana into the costume room and closed the door, leaving Dominique to watch Fran in the living room.  Roberta was there, so Fran was occupied trying to find string for the cat to chase. _

 

_ “Mariana,” Jaimie started, as soon as she got comfortable in the costume room chair.  “You okay?” _

 

_ She shrugged.  Brown eyes dull.  She’s probably exhausted, but instinct had Jaimie digging a little deeper.  “Sweetheart… Do you wanna talk about anything? About what your mom shared? About the accident?” _

 

_ “No.” Mariana answered heavily.  Silence stretched between them, and Jaimie just waited.  Finally, Mari spoke again. “That’s why.” _

 

_ “Why, what, babe?” Jaimie asked. _

 

_ “They always blamed me.  Were always mad. Now it makes sense,” she said flatly, softly. _

 

_ “I don’t believe in humiliating people,” Jaimie told her honestly.  “I think you’re well aware that what you did was reckless...and dangerous...but it doesn’t make you a bad person.  You hear me? You made a mistake.” _

 

_ “...I don’t even remember it.  So, it’s like...being blamed...for something...I didn’t even know I did?” _

 

_ “That sounds like it’d be scary,” Jaimie ventured. _

 

_ “It’s...heavy…” Mariana managed.  “Like, something big...pressing me down...making it hard…” _

 

_ “Making what hard, Mariana?” Jaimie asked. _

 

_ And here...Mariana just looked at her.  Her eyes so fathomless. So haunted. So hurting. _

 

_ “You said it’s heavy?  Makes it hard?” Jaimie had prompted.  “What’s hard?” _

 

_ “Everything…” Mariana whispered.   _

 

_ It was at that moment that there was a knock on the door and Fran pushed it open. _

 

_ “Sorry but are you guys talking about the thing Mom said about Mari?” Francesca asked, hanging onto the handle, hesitantly. _

 

_ Dominique appeared behind Francesca, and mouthed, “Sorry.” _

 

_ “We are,” Jaimie answered. _

 

_ “‘Cause it’s too dark to go to Avoidance and have Feelings Time there, and there’s school tomorrow so I can’t chat with any other Avoiders.  So can I with the Avoider-Mom? ‘Cause I have feelings about what Mom said…private ones...” Fran continued, glancing at Mariana and Dominique. _

 

_ “We can take a hint…” Dominique had nodded and offered Mariana a hand.  “We can go hang out on the couch and do nothing.” _

 

_ “What feelings?” Jaimie had asked, once the costume room door was closed. _

 

_ “Drinking and driving is really bad…” Fran had shared, her eyes wide.  “It’s, like, against the law, right? That’s what my mom was saying?” _

 

_ “Yes,” Jaimie had answered.   _

 

_ “So...what if Mom changes her mind?” Fran wondered, picking at a hangnail. _

 

_ “And does what?” Jaimie questioned. _

 

_ “Like, sends Mari to jail…” Francesca worried. _

 

_ “Francesca, I know things are really scary and confusing right now.  And it’s hard not to think about all the what-ifs, right?” _

 

_ Fran nodded, brown eyes so lost. _

 

_ “But what helps me is to focus on what is.  What is happening right now. Mariana’s here.  She’s not in jail.” _

 

_ “I used to not wanna be like her…” Francesca admitted, head lowered.  “And now that I know she did this? I don’t wanna be like her again. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it…” _

 

_ “You know, I just told Mariana this, but doing a bad thing? Doesn’t mean your sister is a bad person.  She made a mistake, right? A big one. You know who else has made big mistakes?” Jaimie asked. _

 

_ “Who?” _

 

_ “Me.  And Dominique knows that about me.  And for some reason? She still looks up to me.  People make mistakes, Francesca. That’s guaranteed.  Because human beings are flawed and because we’re always learning.  The mistakes people make are a big deal, but it’s what comes after them that’s an even bigger deal.” _

 

_ “I don’t get it,” Fran admitted. _

 

_ “Well, I didn’t know Mariana before, but you know what I see in Mariana now?” _

 

_ “What?”  _

 

_ “I see a really good sister.  A really good friend. Somebody people around her can trust.  And I see somebody who is really hurting right now. Somebody who could use some Avoider-love.” _

 

_ “But she still made a mistake,” Fran persisted. _

 

_ “She did.  And that’s gonna be hard to deal with, for you, for sure.” Jaimie had said, unsure of where Francesca was going here. _

 

_ “...Can you…  Like… Still love somebody who made a big mistake?  Is that allowed?” Francesca finally asked and Jaimie swallowed her own tears.  “‘Cause my moms kinda make me feel like I should just, like, ‘Oh, forget you, you did a bad thing.’” _

 

_ “Who else do you respect a lot in your family, babe?” Jaimie wondered. _

 

_ “Jesus,” Fran said, without hesitation. _

 

_ “What did Jesus do when your mom said that about Mariana?” Jaimie quizzed. _

 

_ When Francesca looked confused, Jaimie helped out: _

 

_ “Your mom told him to ‘judge away,’ but did he?” Jaimie asked. _

 

_ “No?” Francesca guessed. _

 

_ “No.  You know what I saw him do?” Jaimie questioned softly. _

 

_ “What?” _

 

_ “I saw him looking really concerned for Mariana,” Jaimie shared seriously.  “‘Cause sometimes, when people act out of character - different than themselves - it can be because something’s hurting them inside…” _

 

_ “So...it probably would hurt a lot more if we took our love from her, too,” Fran decided. _

 

_ “I think that’s a smart observation,” Jaimie complimented.  And then she watched, feeling like a proud mama - though she knew she wasn’t Fran or Mari’s - as Francesca left the costume room, and sat next to Mari on the couch, and snuggled up next to her side. _

 

_ “Moms are pissed,” Mariana had reported, holding up her phone. _

 

_ “Okay, well, let’s get you two back,” Jaimie’d said grimly. _

 

_ But in the car on the way?  Jaimie had passed along her number, saying it out loud slow so that Fran and Mari could put it in their phones.   _

 

_ “You call or text me if you need anything tonight,” Jaimie had said, after making sure they both had their contacts updated. _

 

_ “Or ever?” Fran asked.  “Because if you’re the Avoider-Mom, that means always.” _

 

_ “Right.  It does mean always,” Jaimie nodded.  “Take care, all right? Happy birthday, Mariana.” _

 

_ “Oh shit.” _

 

_ “What is it? Jaimie wondered. _

 

_ “We forgot Moms’ presents…” Mari admitted.   _

 

_ “Oh yeah, you’re wearing Jaimie’s and we have your Minnesota presents and all the other ones, just not theirs,” Fran pointed out. _

 

_ “Hopefully, they won’t notice,” Jaimie encouraged, getting out of the car to hug Fran, who had her arms open. “Let me walk y’all up,” Jaimie offered, as it was getting dark and the Adams Fosters had no railing on their front step. _

 

_ “Thanks,” Francesca offered. _

 

_ “You need anything, you call,” Jaimie said, as Mariana put her key in the lock.   _

 

_ “We will,” she answered, walking in the house. _

 

_ And Jaimie couldn’t help but think that Mariana did indeed look weighed down by everything in that moment. _


	10. Be Prepared

Coming back inside the house after Mariana and Jesus’s birthday is like holding your breath.  It’s what you have to do to get ready to go inside. It’s kinda like the house is alive. You know, like hiding memories in every one of the rooms.

 

The good memories?  It feels like those can spread out.  Escape out of doors. Go with the people who brought them so they won’t forget them.  But bad memories get stuck. And no good memories even want to stay where bad memories are.

 

And whenever Mom and Mama are here?  It’s like the bad memories are ready to come out and start fighting.  That’s even just like background noise, because the loudest noise is always from Moms right this very minute.

 

Tonight, Fran walks in doing just the thing she’s supposed to: holding her breath.  Because what if Moms are still really mad about Jesus and Mariana’s party being at Jesus’s, not here?  What if they start yelling at Mariana about breaking the law?

 

“You girls need to get to bed.  Especially you, Frankie. This staying up late at your brother’s has got to stop.  Understand?” Mom says, carrying a coffee cup to the sink. She sounds tired. Not mad.

 

“Yes,” Francesca answers.  She goes upstairs and changes into pajamas.  Good thing Mama made her do her homework right after school.  There’s no time anymore.

 

Francesca crawls into bed and glances across the room at Mariana.  She’s flipping through her brand new notebook from Levi. “Are there love notes in there?” Fran asks, curious.

 

A small smile appears on Mari’s face and she tosses a stuffed animal at Fran.  “Shut up,” she laughs. “He’s not old enough.”

 

“But if he was...like...when he turns 18?  Then will they, like...magically transform into love notes?” Fran presses, coming down to the end of her bed to be closer to where Mari is.

 

“Stop,” Mariana waves her away, still smiling.

 

Francesca remembers consent.  And how if a person smiles saying no, that doesn’t mean yes.  She backs up in the conversation. The thing is, Mariana hasn’t been smiling very much.  And talking about Levi makes her happy. Fran wants her to stay that way, so she doesn’t have to think about Moms being so mean and sleep a lot (even though, now, Fran knows sleeping a lot is just a thing Mari needs to do because her brain gets tired easier.)

 

“Sorry,” Fran apologizes.  “But is Levi’s your most favorite present?”

 

“I like all the Avoider presents the most,” Mari answers, like she doesn’t wanna hurt Francesca’s feelings, but she’s holding the notebook from Levi against her, kinda like you hold a baby.  Like she doesn’t want anything to ever happen to it.

 

“I’m glad we forgot Moms’ presents…” Francesca admits in a whisper.

 

“If I tell you something...about the presents from them...can you not tell them?  Moms?” Mariana asks.

 

Francesca mimes locking her lips and throwing a key away.

 

“Dom told me she and Jesus wanna throw them away.  Like, down the trash chute,” Mariana whispers.

 

Francesca laughs and covers her mouth fast.  “But, what if they ask where the ugly sweatsuit is?”

 

“I don’t care,” Mariana shrugs.  “You should sleep.”

 

“Okay…  Night, Mari.  I love you,” Fran says.  It’s harder to say the words tonight.  They feel scary. Like going against Moms.

 

“Love you,” she responds.

 

\--

 

Once Fran’s asleep, Mariana stays awake.  She pores over Moms’ social media. Wants to see if she can find anymore clues about the accident.  About what exactly happened. She doesn’t want to know, but she feels like she has to, all the same. 

 

Creeping on Moms’ Facebooks isn’t something she does, usually.  Mariana’s had them unfollowed since well before the accident. Seeing their updates just annoyed then, and spiked her anxiety too often with cryptic updates about life.  It made Mari so glad Jesus didn’t have a Facebook.

 

She knows Mom rarely posts except for police-related memes.  So Mariana clicks on Mama’s. The post from today makes her breath catch:

 

_ Happy birthday to my twins.  You’ve come so far.  _

 

Beneath are several pictures: 

 

Mariana and Jesus right after they moved in.  Wary faces, holding hands, Jesus a little in front of Mariana.  Mariana clutching Night-Night. Their faces look blank. Eyes wide.  Smiles pasted on haphazardly. Mariana can’t even look at her own younger self.  She feels sick for some reason. Seeing herself then just brings the feeling up. Like she might really throw up.

 

Another picture shows Jesus literally right after he got away.  His hair’s cut weird like it was when he came home. He’s dressed in a red long-sleeved Angry Birds shirt, asleep under the piano.  (One sleeve of the shirt’s ridden up a little in the picture and Jesus’s chain scars are right there for God and everybody to see.) Thirteen-year-old Mari’s on her stomach, in Halloween PJs, just being there, like she promised.  Jesus would hate this picture being up. (Mariana hates that they were photographed in this moment, without even knowing. It cheapens the moment. Like now, it’s fodder for people to exclaim over. Not a private thing that Mariana and Jesus never meant to share with anyone else but each other.)

 

Then, there’s the worst picture ever of Mariana.  Her head’s shaved and she looks like she’s in pain.  Glasses on. In a wheelchair. In a cruelly bright rehab gym.  Jesus is over one shoulder, looking at her, concerned. Mari remembers almost none of her hospitalization and rehab after the fact.  Knows Jesus was there a lot. The picture’s a testament to that. But again, not a moment Mariana ever wanted shared with all of her parents’ friends.  Siblings’ boyfriends and girlfriends… This was private. And especially given what Stef told everybody tonight? Well, Mariana just doesn’t want anybody to be able to see that.

 

Finally, there’s a picture of both of them from...tonight.  Mariana blinks.

 

She and Jesus are sitting close together with the cologne and perfume that made Mariana’s head feel like it was splitting apart.  They’re both smiling. Jesus in his gray beanie and new shirt from Jaimie and Michael. Mari in the pink hat from Pearl and the ocean shirt from Jaimie.  Only Mariana has no memory of this picture being taken at all. It’s too posed for them to have taken it on the DL. Has she been that out of it?

 

And if Mari doesn’t remember the picture being taken, she’s positive Jesus doesn’t either.  (Their smiles look stiff. Their eyes faraway. Guarded.)

 

Mariana swallows a bitter taste in her mouth.  Has Lena forgotten all about the disaster that happened when Callie took a bunch of pictures of Jesus without consent?  When she even planned on using them publicly?

 

What exactly is Lena’s problem?

 

But watching the number of  _ likes  _ and  _ loves _ and  _ wows _ and  _ sads _ go up, up, up?  And Mariana knows exactly why.

 

_ Stef Adams Foster: _

_ Love my babies!  Happy birthday both of you! _

 

_ Jenna Paul: _

_ Wow, wow, wow!  Come so far, indeed!  So grown up! _

 

_ Talya Banks: _

_ Awwww!!!!  Great pics! _

 

_ Brandon Foster: _

_ Mariana looks like that bc Jesus looks like he’s gonna lay a finger on Night-Night in that first one...LOL. _

 

Mariana swallows, squinting as an angry emoji joins the rest of the reactions.  Hovering over it, Mariana feels herself letting out a breath:

 

_ Angry: _

_ Pearl West, Dominique Williams _

 

Mariana watches, interested as  _ Someone is typing a comment _ to Lena’s pictures of them.  Kind of hoping that...yes:

 

_ Pearl West: _

_ I KNOW FOR A FACT YOUR KIDS DON’T WANT PICTURES OF THEMSELVES POSTED WITHOUT CONSENT.  THESE TYPES OF PICTURES, ESPECIALLY.  _

 

Mariana tenses as a response pops up beneath Pearl’s:

 

_ Brandon Foster: _

_ What types of pictures are those? _

 

_ Charisse Underhill: _

_ The types where the primary theme is dissociation and trauma. _

 

_ Jenna Paul: _

_ I’ve known Jesus and Mariana since they came to Stef and Lena, Charisse.  They HAVE come far. Shame on you for criticizing that.  _

 

_ Brandon Foster: _

_ Seriously?  Jesus and Mariana have always had trauma.  It’s not like it can be avoided. If Moms waited around for a zero-trauma picture, they wouldn’t have any of them.... _

 

_ Parvati Ware: _

_ @Jenna Paul, She’s saying Lena’s in the wrong here, not Jesus and Mari. There are better pictures - ones they’d consent to sharing - for example. _

 

It takes Mariana a second to place Char and Pav - Pearl’s friends - who’ve become their friends, too.  From the survivor support group. She’s glad for them. But she’s not about to get into it on social media.  She hopes Lena eventually takes the hint and deletes the pictures.

 

She takes a screenshot and draws a heart around it, making a message with Pearl, Char and Pav and hits send.

 

_ Char: _

_ We’ve got your back.  Always. _

 

_ Pav: _

_ Your brother’s an ass… _

 

_ Mariana: _

_??? _

 

_ Char: _

_ He’s messaging all of us abt how tough it was to live w/ u & Jesus. _

 

An attached screenshot reads:

 

_ Brandon: _

_ Charisse, if you want to see trauma and dissociation everywhere then that’s what will be there.  Jesus and Mariana aren’t all innocent here. You’d rather see perfect pics w/ no evidence that things were hard for us as a family?  Sorry. We’re honest. _

 

Pav adds her own:

 

_ Brandon:  _

_ Parvati, we are done letting Mariana and esp Jesus control our every move.  Pictures are the property of the person who took them. There’s nothing indecent about them.  Grow up. _

 

_ \-- _

 

Pearl grimly takes a screenshot of her phone and forwards it to Mariana.  As it was Mariana being tagged in the pictures by Lena that alerted Pearl to them in the first place, she feels it’s only right.

 

After responding to Pearl’s comment publicly, Brandon has now resorted to private messaging.  From the looks of things, Brandon took the most time on Pearl’s PM - presumably because they had met years ago, and have a slight bit of history. (Pearl even babysat Brandon once…)

 

_ Pearl, you don’t have a leg to stand on here.  You have no idea what it was like for our family.  Everything we had to deal with: _

 

 

  * __Imagine 5 year olds who are more like toddlers: biting, screaming, not using silverware.  Peeing the bed at night and hiding the evidence.__


  * _Imagine walking on eggshells for YEARS so you don’t accidentally set off your 13+ year old brother who suddenly freaks out about coming to the table.  Who forces his little brother into a closet at knifepoint and locks him in. Who beats his head against anything available if anybody says something he does not like._


  * _Now imagine what Moms have to deal with since everything w/ Mari.  It’s eggshells AGAIN. She’s not the same person AT ALL. She’s totally unpredictable, destroying hundreds of dollars of stuff in her bedroom, swearing at Frankie..._



 

 

_ I say if my moms wanna share a few pics to show the hell they’ve been through, they get to do that.  They’re the parents. Jesus doesn’t even have a Facebook, so come off it. _

 

There are pictures attached: one of a horrendous bite mark on what must be a younger Brandon’s shoulder.  Teenage Jesus, wary-eyed, knife in hand. The last picture shows an absolutely destroyed bedroom. Pearl can just make out the names MARIANA and FRANCESCA in collage-like newsprint letters.  This must be the mess Brandon talked about Mariana making.

 

_ Pearl: _

_ ^ SORRY MARI - THAT JUST CAME THROUGH VIA BRANDON… _

 

\--

 

Mariana can’t stop herself and pelts her phone against the wall.  Luckily, Francesca keeps sleeping.

 

But adrenaline’s coursing through Mariana.  Her whole world is falling in around her, and if she starts screaming?  Moms are gonna come in here and everything’s gonna get worse. Stealing into the bathroom, Mari turns on the shower, the sink, the fan.  She rips every single towel off the shelf in the closet. Dumps out the washcloths.

 

Breathless, she collapses against the door.  Reaches up to lock it. Hits Facebook video call.  She doesn’t know why. She’s not gonna be able to talk to anybody.  She can’t see to type.

 

But if she doesn’t get someone here with her, even long distance.  Well, Mariana’s not sure what will happen. She feels like she’ll explode.

 

\--

 

Levi jumps, as his Facebook video call rings.  He’s up, headphones on, so the sound is amplified in his ears.

 

Mariana.

 

He doesn’t think.  Doesn’t worry about her seeing him in a tee shirt with messy hair and tired face.  Levi just answers. Because they don’t care about that stuff, being Avoiders. It’s nice, not to have to think about being put together all the time.

 

“Hey!  How was your….?” he starts before he takes in Mari’s upset.  Her face is flushed. Tears running. Breathing ragged. There’s water running somewhere.

 

“Hey…” Levi softens.  “You’re not okay?” he asks.

 

Mariana shakes her head, her face crumbling.  She’s pulling at a new, super roomy-looking, beautiful shirt like it’s gone small.

 

“Okay.  That’s okay.  Can you just...look at me, please?” he asks.

 

Through bleary eyes it looks like she just barely manages it, but Levi doesn’t know if she can even make him out.  

 

“Slow deep breath?” Levi asks.

 

It’s hell.  Takes Mari agonizing time to just get one good breath in.  So they just do that for a while. Until she seems a little calmer.

 

He can tell she’s doing something and then checks his phone to see the screencaps she’s forwarded.  Looks like one of her moms posted seriously rude pics of her and Jesus, without even asking them. It makes chill bumps rise on his arms.  It makes him think about Carla. But he pushes her out of his mind. Focuses on what Mariana sent.

 

He studies the images more closely.  Sees Pearl commented in Mariana and Jesus’s defense.  Char and Pav, too, from support group? Maybe? Sure sounds like Char…  Levi’s glad they’re speaking up. He doesn’t feel like he can. Not with Mariana’s moms being so much like Carla.  (Seriously. If Levi’s own mom, or dad posted even one pic like what Mariana’s mom posted of her and Jesus? Levi would be devastated.  Mariana has every right to be as upset as she is right now.)

 

“There’s more…” Mariana manages, her voice heavy.  “But I can’t… I can just…” she flips the camera on her phone so it shows the bathroom, strewn with towels, wash clothes, baskets of stuff overturned.

 

Levi just looks.  Takes it all in. Knows something else major must’ve happened for Mari to have had that reaction.  

 

“I’m sorry.  Really sorry they’re terrible…” Levi offers.  “I wish I was there to help you clean it up. I am an epic cleaner…” he tries, trying to get a smile out of her.  It doesn’t work, and Levi’s heart sinks.

 

He watches as Mari just shuts her eyes.  As tears track down her cheeks. Levi feels them welling up, too.

 

She opens her eyes and Levi is so not ready for it when she sings: “ _ Well, you almost had me fooled.  Told me that I was nothing without you.” _

 

Levi instantly recognizes Kesha’s ‘Praying,’ and joins her in it.  He totally gets not being able to talk about a thing. But craving connection and commentary about the thing, all the same.

 

It doesn’t escape him that when Levi started singing, Mariana stopped.  But he keeps going at her nod. Sings the whole song, wishing he had a piano.  A keyboard. Something.

 

Pearl’s knocking and Levi stands and opens his door, continuing to sing.  He shows Mariana that Pearl’s here now, too. Invites her to sit in his single chair.  

 

He keeps singing.  It’s gentle. Keening.  And when he sings “some things only God can forgive” and he goes into his falsetto?  It feels right, and he can hear Pearl gasp, and can see Mari there, nodding in appreciation.

 

“You okay, Mariana?” Pearl asks once Levi finishes the song.  Gets his breath.

 

Mari shrugs.

 

“I’m sorry if it was too much.  Us all sharing what Brandon… Well…  I’m just sorry,” Pearl manages.

 

Mariana shakes her head slightly, waving away Pearl’s comment.

 

“You’re saying, like, Brandon’s the peon here?” Levi guesses.

 

Mariana nods again, a sad smile breaking over her face.

 

“You’re good, yeah.  B’s the peon.” Mariana manages.

 

“Well, hey, you two?  Try to get some sleep?” Pearl asks.  “You wanna say good night, Cleo?”

 

Levi grins as Pearl hefts tiny, fat Cleo in her hands, as Levi aims the camera, getting them all in the shot.  Cleo snorts and tries to lick the screen.

 

“No,” Levi insists, cracking up.

 

“I can hang out with her ‘til we’re ready to go, right?” Levi checks.

 

“I trust you both.  Just be aware of the time.  And know that sleep’s healthy.  Take care, Mari. Levi? Hug?” Pearl asks.

 

“God, I get another one…wow,” Levi grins.  “Mari, sorry not sorry you’re in on this.”

 

“No, it’s fine,” Mariana insists.  “I know you like hugs. So you should get...you know...all of them you want.”

 

“Good night,” Pearl exclaims, hugging Levi warmly, Cleo caught between them.  “The song was really...mmm. It was on point,” Pearl finally says. “Thank you for letting me listen.”

 

“Thanks for wanting to,” Levi returns.

 

Pearl finally leaves and Levi’s able to close his door.  He turns his attention back to Mariana. She looks exhausted.  But Levi just waits.

 

“Did that make you feel better?” Levi finally can’t resist asking. “The song?” 

 

“Yeah.  A little,” Mariana admits.  “Levi?”

 

“Hmm?” he asks, stifling a yawn.

 

“Thank you.  For my notebook.  It’s like...you thought of me?  With how it is on the pages, you know?” Mariana tries.  “And just thank you.”

 

Levi immediately thinks of the 70-some haikus he wrote, starting when he met Mariana.  How he kept one to a page, spacing well between each line. The formatting worked, is what she’s saying.

 

“You’re welcome,” Levi responds.

 

They don’t hang up.  They stay on the phone until Mariana nods off and jerks awake, making her way to bed, after turning off the water.  And Levi props his phone up on his bedside table, so Mari can still see him if she needs somebody.

 

When she gets in bed, Levi can just make out the corner of the notebook he sent, poking out from the bottom of her pillowcase.

 

He drifts to sleep hoping all of his words will absorb into her consciousness, taking over the negative ones until they are completely gone.

 


	11. The Approaching Night

Once Jesus knows for sure that Moms are gone, he approaches the office, just off the lobby and knocks.  Michael’s still here. Standing by, he says, in case Jesus needs anything.

 

The door opens and Val glances up from her computer screen.

 

“Jesus?” she asks.

 

“Can I come in?” he wonders softly, swallowing.  His heart’s still beating like a drum in a fast song.  He can’t shake the fact that Stef was taking pictures. Gave him nasty clothes.

 

Of course,” she nods and pulls out a wheeled office chair.

 

Jesus struggles at the door.  He really wants it open, but he needs privacy.  Michael’s standing kinda outside it, but a few steps back.  Not to listen, just to be there for backup. It’s not Michael he’s worried about overhearing.  It’s...what if Moms double back? What if Fran comes down and hears how upset he is?

 

Finally, Jesus closes the door.  Sits. “My moms...they gave me a bunch of clothes like He gave me back Then.  Like, when I got to go to school finally and I didn’t have anything to wear? He gave me this old crap.  Like from the 60s or 70s or something? I don’t even know. But anyway. That’s the kind of clothes Moms just gave me.”  Jesus’s voice is shaking. His heart’s still pounding. He feels cold. Like he can’t breathe right.

 

“You’re having a panic attack,” Val says calmly.  “I’m going to help you through it, okay? Breathe?”

 

Jesus does.  It still feels like his chest is too tight.

 

“That’s one breath.  Again? Breathe and count.”

 

Jesus breathes again.  “Two,” he manages.

 

“Good,” Val reassures.

 

They do that a super long time.  Until the rushing stops in Jesus’s head.  He hasn’t heard that in a while. 

 

“You said your Moms gave you clothes that triggered you?” Val asks, once Jesus is breathing more regular.  Dudley’s licking him. It helps, even though his dog breath is gross.

 

“Yeah.  Wrapped.” Jesus offers.

 

“Good.  I want you to try and think about the words you’re saying.  Take your time Know that there’s no rush right now. I’m here all night.  Your parents? They know about these triggers or they don’t?”

 

“They--I mean--I don’t--” Jesus sputters.

 

“Slow down.  One word at a time?”

 

“They...know about...the wrapping.  Not to wrap stuff. Not the other,” Jesus manages, still feeling keyed up.

 

“Good.  Breathe?” Val cues.  

 

“But it was Brandon’s style of clothes, not mine, and they gave Mari some ugly as hell sweatsuit and us each some cologne and perfume that neither one of us would ever wear!  They gave me shoes the wrong size for a hobby I don’t have--”

 

“Jesus?” Val tries.

 

“--And they gave Mariana a book that basically called her a dumbass!” he finishes, feeling his breathing pick up again.

 

“Jesus.” Val repeats.  “I promise you, I am listening to you.  I believe you. I hear you. I also want you to be safe.  So I need you...to slow down…”

 

“That’s not everything, though,” he objects.

 

“I hear that you have more you need to say.  Can you breathe and count in your head while I respond to what you said already?”

 

Jesus nods.  Trying to get back into a rhythm.  Breathing. Counting.

 

“It sounds like your parents gave you and Mariana very insensitive gifts tonight.  That sucks. It really, truly does. I am sorry about that. You and Mariana deserve thoughtful gifts.  Gifts that reflect you.”

 

“I don’t even like gifts…” Jesus rasps.

 

“You don’t like gifts.  So maybe you’d have preferred them to just stop in?  Spend time with you?”

 

“Yeah, but they’d never do that,” Jesus shakes his head.

 

“That sounds really hard to deal with,” Val says, sympathetic.  

 

“It’s like...I hit a certain age?  Eighteen, maybe? And they just, like, stopped.”

 

“What did they stop, Jesus?” Val asks.

 

“Considering me…” he whispers.  “They actually stopped before then, but once I turned eighteen, they stopped for real.”

 

Val purses her lips like she’s angry at Moms, too.  That makes Jesus feel better about a lot of stuff. But he still can’t believe the rest.

 

“What I say in here?  You don’t, like, report it back to anybody, do you?  If it’s not like a personal safety thing or a risk to somebody else here?”

 

“Right.” Val confirms.

 

“Well...Stef...I confronted her about, like, being high key obsessed about wine.  And she was like “If you wanna judge somebody for drinking, judge your sister.’ When Mariana had her accident last year?  She was drunk,” Jesus admits. “And I knew that. Lena knew that. But nobody else there did. Mariana doesn’t remember anything about the accident.  Francesca had no idea. Dominique and her parents were there. They didn’t know, Val.”

 

Val raises her eyebrows.  Blows out a breath. She looks Jesus in the eyes.  “She had no right to out Mariana’s information to the room at large.  That was a crappy thing to do. Especially on yours and Mariana’s birthday.  You aren’t responsible for your mothers’ choices, though, Jesus. It sounds like an incredibly stressful time.  And it’s amazing that you are in here right now, talking to me.”

 

“I was thinking, maybe, we could sit down with Dom and Lena from here?  All of us talk?”

 

“We can do that,” Val reassures.  “You keep breathing, Jesus.”

 

He nods.  Breathes in.  Out.

 

\--

 

After Mari, Fran, Jaimie and Michael leave, Jesus and Val, Dominique and Lena from here are all processing what happened together.

 

“You did the right thing, coming to find me,” Val remarks softly.  Her blue eyes are kind. Her voice full and warm and genuine. He feels, whenever they talk, like they really connect.  Like she gives a damn.

 

“Do either one of you wanna share about what went down tonight?” Lena asks.  

 

Dominique shrugs, looking to Jesus.  “I mean, that’s not really my place. It’s Jesus’s family.  I shouldn’t say anything.”

 

“No,” Jesus interjects softly.  “They’re not my family. The Avoiders are my family.”

 

“Why do you say that?” Val asks, no judgement.

 

“‘Cause of how they treated us…” Jesus offers.  “I felt...like I was There? You know?” he asks, petting Dudley.

 

“You felt like you were in LA?” Val clarifies, and he loves that she doesn’t use the words  _ kidnapped  _ or  _ abducted _ which both feel too personal for her to say right now.

 

“Yeah, and Stef and Lena…” Jesus glances apologetically at Lena Robinson across the table from him.  “--My...well...one of them’s named Lena…”

 

“Good to know,” Lena nods, open.  “You were saying?”

 

“That they didn’t even, like, care, I guess?  That I was in trouble? That they gave us totally rude gifts that caused it…”

 

“It’s your birthday.  You and your sister?” Lena winces.

 

“Right.” Jesus nods.  He glances at Dominique.  “You can share. Honestly.  If you want.”

 

“Being around them triggered the hell out of me…” Dominique offers, looking at Lena.  

 

Jesus and Dominique both watch as Val goes to the vending machine and buys a couple bottles of water, setting them in front of him and Dominique.  “You both can drink these,” she says clearly. Gently.

 

Lena’s nodding at Dominique.  Jesus waits until she opens the water, and takes a drink.  He does, too. Then:

 

“I had a safety pin...from one of the tags on the gift?” he admits.  Talking to Dominique about it is easier than talking to Val.

 

Dominique studies him quietly.  Doesn’t jump in with a ton of judgement or condemnation.

 

“Michael caught on.  Asked me to step out.  Asked for it. You know, before things got too gnarly.”

 

“Show me?” Val asks.  “Where things got gnarly?”

 

Jesus swallows and holds out his wrists low, so Dominique and Lena don’t have an eyeline.  It’s embarrassing enough.

 

He removes his bracelets.  His Avoider one makes a hot anger rise in him.  He wants to throw it, remembering what Stef said about Dominique’s.

 

“Okay.  Don’t look down, Jesus, okay?  You choose Dominique, or me or Lena or Dudley to focus on.  And take a deep breath.”

 

He meets Dudley’s eyes.  Tries to breathe. His hand squeezes the bracelets.

 

“I’m just making sure you’re safe, Jesus.  Not touching,” Val clarifies.

 

“It’s not that,” Jesus manages.  “It’s the thing Stef said about the Avoider bracelets.”

 

“What did she say?  Try to breathe through this.  You can put your bracelets back on.  Looks like you and Michael dealt really well with that trigger.”

 

Jesus nods at Dominique.  He can’t say it or he’ll just end up yelling.

 

Dominique clears her throat.  “Uh… She said something like ‘This Avoider thing doesn’t seem very healthy.’  Didn’t approve.”

 

“How’d you feel about that?” Lena asks.

 

“She didn’t know what she was talking about.” Dominique comments softly.

 

“Feels safer to talk about Stef right now?” Lena checks.

 

Dominique nods, shortly.  Looks away.

 

“What about you, Jesus?” Val asks.

 

“Mad...not, like, at Dominique or you guys here.  Just...at Stef and Lena. They’re basically disapproving of the main safety net for three of their kids.  This amazing friendship we’ve got going. Me, my two sisters, Dominique, plus this brother and sister from Minnesota that we all got really close to?  And Stef doesn’t like it because of the name we gave it…”

 

“Dominique?” Lena says softly, wondering.  Jesus glances up. Sees the almost imperceptible shift that happens when Dom goes from being present and clear to terrified.  Her throat-clearing has picked up. The week in Minnesota together revealed it as a major tell. A sign she’s in trouble.

 

She swallows, cutting her eyes to Jesus.  “You pissed?”

 

“At  _ them _ , Dominique.  At my moms. Not at you.  Not at anybody here.” Jesus tries again to clarify.  He should have known saying he was mad around Dominique was a risk.  She’s way sensitive to dudes’ energy.

 

“What’s gonna happen?  What you gonna do?” Dominique asks, her eyes darting to him.

 

“I’m not gonna hurt you.  No violence,” Jesus reassures.  “I’m sorry for scaring you. Can I talk about my feelings some more?” 

 

“Still mad?” Dominique checks.

 

“At them, yes.  But I’m not gonna hurt anybody.  Just talk about how mad I am. If you’re not cool with that, you don’t have to stay.”

 

“Don’t grab me,” Dominique warns.

 

“I’m not gonna touch anybody at all.”  When Dominique doesn’t look convinced, Jesus clarifies.  “I won’t grab you.”

 

“You’re safe, because I’m here for you.  And Val’s here for Jesus. Making sure you’re both okay.  That nobody’s gonna get hurt,” Lena takes the time to explain to Dominique.  

 

She still looks skeptical, but nods.  

 

“That means you both can talk about whatever you need to, without worrying about repercussions.” Lena says.

 

“So…  Did you want to say more, Jesus?” Val prompts.

 

“Just that it’s messed up that ‘cause Stef didn’t like the name we picked for ourselves, she decided she doesn’t like the concept?  I don’t know… I can’t explain it.”

 

“Did she even ask…  Or does she know what we even avoid as Avoiders?” Dominique wonders, hesitantly.

 

“Not unless Francesca or Mariana told her.  Which, I don’t think they have. So, she basically has no idea, and is just randomly judging us.”

 

“For the record?  Avoiding willfully ignorant, unsafe people sounds incredibly smart to me.” Val nods.

 

“Thanks,” Jesus nods.  He glances at the clock on the wall.  “Should we go? It’s kinda late…”

 

“Wait, though,” Dominique echoes.  “Your apartment still has all that crap from Stef and Lena in it.”

 

Jesus winces.  “You’re right.”

 

“What do you wanna do with it?” Lena wonders.

 

“Well, I have to keep it, right?  And, like, act grateful?” Jesus questions.

 

“Jesus?  You’re safe with us right now,” Val says clearly.  “Take a minute. Try to take that in.”

 

Closing his eyes, Jesus tries to breathe, but he just feels tears well up.  He thinks about Isaac. How terribly unsafe they were. How he just drove through LA to visit Isaac.  And tonight. How nothing was safe tonight.

 

He swallows and looks away.

 

“Hey...feelings are good.” Val encourages.  “I know this feels awful right now, and that makes so much sense.  But I want you to know that I am so proud of you.”

 

“Don’t…  Don’t be…” Jesus gasps as tears slide down his face.

 

Dudley’s front paws are on Jesus’s knees.  He’s licking Jesus’s tears.

 

“I’m okay.  I’m okay, Dudley,” Jesus insists, even as sobs wrack his body.

 

“You don’t have to be okay,” Dominique offers quietly.  “You don’t have to keep anything you don’t want. Once they gave it to you and Mariana, it became yours.  You get to decide what to do with it. And you definitely don’t have to act grateful. I offered to throw Mariana’s stuff from them down the trash chute before she left…”

 

“Yeah?” Jesus asks, calming down a little finally.  “What’d she say?”

 

“She said, ‘Yes, please,’” Dominique passes along.

 

He glances at Val.  “Will I get in trouble for throwing stuff away here?”

 

“You’re 23 now, right?” Val asks, knowingly.

 

“Yeah?” Jesus manages, wiping a hand across his eyes.

 

“So, you’re not a little kid anymore.  But you can protect that little kid inside you by throwing away the things that don’t affirm him.  Whatever doesn’t make him feel totally safe?” Val asks. “You can do whatever you decide to do with it, just like Dominique said.”

 

“Trash chute?” Jesus questions with a small smile.

 

“Trash chute,” Val, Dominique and Lena chorus.

 

“Dom, would you feel okay coming up with me?  You could stay in the hall, if you want…”

 

“If Lena and Val can come in, can I, too?” Dominique checks.

 

“Totally.” Jesus nods.

 

He and Val ride the elevator up first with Dudley because he doesn’t do great with crowded spaces and being pressed in on.  They get to his apartment, and Val asks:

 

“How do you wanna do this?”

 

“I, um…  I don’t know?” Jesus admits, averting his eyes from the pile of gifts on the floor around the folding chairs.

 

“Do you have gifts you know you want to keep?” Val tries again.

 

Jesus immediately bends down to pick out Francesca’s sloth pictures to him and Mariana.  Sets aside the box with the Wests gifts to him. Sets the sloth drawings and Dominique’s framed Avoiders picture on top.  “This stays,” he says.

 

“Okay, so everything else here?” Val gestures.

 

“Yeah.  Can you just take it?’

 

“Of course,” Val bends down to pick up the boxes of clothes, catching a glimpse of Jesus’s.  “God, these are hideous. They thought you’d  _ like _ these?” Val asks, incredulous, opening Jesus’s door.

 

He manages a laugh.  “Yeah…” 

 

Dominique and Lena are directly across the hall, standing on either side of the trash chute.  Dominique is holding it open.

 

“You wanna toss these?” Jesus asks Dom.  “It was your idea...and I don’t really wanna touch them.  Like...you don’t  _ have to _ at all, but if it’d make you feel any better about what happened tonight?”

 

“Oh, God, can I?” Dominique asks, a nervous smile breaking over her face.

 

She accepts the boxes and bags from Val, and drops each one down, saying, “Yeahhhh!” every time she heard one land in the Dumpster in the garage below.

 

Jesus manages to smile, too.

 

“What if…” Jesus whispers, leaning his head down to address Val.  “What if they find out we did this? If they wonder where all their crap is?”

 

“You don’t owe them answers, Jesus.  Your safety is the priority. Not their curiosity.”

 

“Thank you guys so much,” Jesus manages.  “Dominique, thanks for talking and trashing the stuff.”

 

“Dude, please.  I’ll trash stuff from them anytime.  It brings me so much joy.” Here, she actually beams.

 

“Well, then I’ll know who to call,” he says, smiling back.

 

He says goodnight to Dom and Lena and heads back into his own apartment with Val.

 

“You good?” she checks.  “Feeling stable?”

 

“For now?  Like, with you here?  I don’t know how I’d be if I was alone?” Jesus admits.

 

“I can stay,” Val says.  “Would you mind if I just hung out at the table in the kitchen?”

 

“No, that’s awesome,” Jesus lets out a breath.  “Thanks for staying. And not...like..being disappointed that I need people.”

 

“Jesus, I’d be concerned if you told me you  _ didn’t _ need people.  But I’d never be disappointed in you.  You can try to get some sleep. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

 

Letting out a breath, Jesus collapses on the futon.  Dudley jumps up with him. He falls asleep in no time, knowing Val’s here, he can let his guard down.

 

Finally.

 

\--

 

Once Dominique has reassured Lena that she’s alright, and drunk the entire bottle of water, she finally leaves.  

 

It’s not that Dominique doesn’t appreciate Lena - she does - but she’s got some business to get done.  First, she cuddles Roberta, who’s busy wrapping herself around Dominique’s legs and purring.

 

“Hey…” Dominique says softly, calling Roberta over to the couch and patting it.  The blanket Jesus gave her last August is here, and Dominique covers herself with it.  Roberta climbs into Dominique’s lap. “You wanna call Mom with me?”

 

Roberta meows a little - an affirmation.  And Dominique blows out a breath. Finds  _ Mom _ in her contacts.  Taps.

 

“Dominique?” Mom answers after half a ring.  Even though it’s pushing 1 AM, Mom’s clearly been awake.

 

“Mommy…” Dominique manages.

 

“What is it, babe?” Mom asks, sounding so concerned.

 

“Thank you...for being my mom…” Dominique manages, through tears.

 

“Dominique, of course.  You don’t ever have to thank me for that, babe.”

 

“No, I--I do.  I really, really do because…” she takes a steadying breath.  “Because Jesus and Mariana and Francesca have the worst parents.  And I have you...and Dad…”

 

“You do have me and Dad.  Always,” Mom manages, through tears of her own.

 

“Thank you for always taking care of me.  For respecting me. Even now--”

 

“Dominique Nora Williams,” Mom reprimands gently, and Dominique feels more present than she’s felt in several hours.  Her name. Her full name. “That’s Mom stuff, babe. Taking care of you? Respecting you? That’s part of what it means to be a mom.”

 

“But you talked to Mariana...and Francesca...after...and that’s not Mom stuff.  That’s extra, right?” Dominique checks.

 

“No, ma’am,” Mom answers soft.  Confident. “You and Dad are my people.  That’s it. But that doesn’t mean we can’t spread some of that love around with your Avoiders.  I get that they’re family, too, babe. That maybe they get you in a way Dad and I don’t.”

 

“You hate that,” Dominique comments.

 

“I do not hate that,” Mom reassures.  “I think it’s good to have support from lots of different people.”

 

Dominique’s quiet.  “You do get me, though…” Dominique whispers.  

 

“I’m glad,” Mom offers.  “I’m not glad it happened, what happened, to either of us.  But I’m glad I can be there for you.”

 

“Do you have people, Mommy?” Dominique asks, feeling so vulnerable after a night like they all lived.

 

“I have Dad.  And I have you.  And I have my sisters.  And being able to help your friends, that helps me, too.”

 

“Sometimes, it doesn’t take very much to feel like we’re back where we were, does it?”  Dominique asks.

 

“Dom, I think tonight wasn’t a little.  It was a lot. But you’re right,” Jaimie lowers her voice.  “I feel it, too.”

 

“I’ll stay…” Dominique offers, hearing Mom sniff on the other end of the line.  “I’m right here with you.”

 

And she’s right.  Mom’s always on point.  Because it’s easy, sharing some of the love she got from her mom, back with her.  She just stays.

 

Just listens.  Because they’re each other’s people.  Because in her own way, Mom’s an Avoider, just like the rest of them.


	12. Build It Better

After Pearl excuses herself from Levi’s amazing private concert for Mariana, she sets herself up in the living room, at her laptop, so she can type faster, and respond properly to Brandon.

 

Over the years, she’s developed a system that works well for her with regard to social media: If Pearl has something to say and the conversation is heated, she has a two-comment rule.  She’s commented once to Lena’s crappy birthday post to Mariana and Jesus. But she can still comment one more time on the subject before she must let it drop.

 

This way, Pearl has to think carefully about what she wants to say.  What is the most important thing she wants Brandon to know? As an Avoider (which is a title Pearl takes very seriously) it’s important that she make it known, clearly, that if there is a side to be taken?  She is on Jesus and Mariana’s.

 

Pearl checks back on Lena’s status, just to reference what she’s already said.  A skeptical laugh escapes. It seems Lena has done some house-cleaning on that status of hers, but not in the way Pearl had hoped.

 

Now, her own comment has vanished, along with Char’s and Pav’s, too.  But the post? Stef’s comment? Jenna’s? Brandon’s? Talya’s? All still there.

 

Pearl draws in a deep breath.  Starts typing:

 

_ Brandon, _

 

_ It’s clear you love your moms.  It’s also abundantly obvious that you lack a fundamental understanding of trauma.  The issue at hand is not past grudges you might hold toward your brother and sister for things outside of their control.  All I’m saying is that Jesus and Mariana have made it clear that pictures are a sensitive area for them. More consideration should have been shown in selecting the pictures used in Lena’s post. _

 

_ Pearl _

 

In seconds, a response pops up:

 

_ Well, lucky for you, it’s not your Facebook. _

 

_ P.S. Glad to know you can forgive Jesus and Mariana for anything but you can’t extend even a hint of kindness or understanding to the rest of us. _

 

Pearl’s about to seriously reconsider her two-comment rule, when she hears a throat clear and glances up to see Levi.  He’s put on jeans and a long sleeved tee shirt to come up and talk to her but she doesn’t remark on it.

 

“Hey.  You okay?” she asks, shutting down her laptop and moving to the couch.

 

Levi shakes his head.  “Not really…” he admits, hedging at the top of the stairs.

 

It takes all of Pearl’s self control to just wait Levi out.  To not jump in asking him if he needs to talk? To ask how Mariana is?  Or any of Pearl’s other countless questions.

 

Levi joins Pearl on the other end of the couch, grabbing a blanket off the back.  ‘I...forgot to ask Mariana if I could share with you,” Levi finally admits, regretful.

 

“Ah,” Pearl answers, quiet.  “I can understand not wanting to betray her confidence.  And I won’t ask you to.”

 

“But...it was hard.  Not  _ being there _ for her.  Just...I mean, you saw her?” Levi asks.

 

“I did.  Looked like she was having a hard time.  With good reason,” Pearl says gently.

 

“Seeing her like that.  That’s what was hard,” Levi admits.  “So upset?”

 

“I can relate,” Pearl nods, thinking about Jesus, years ago, struggling at home.  Now, that time in his life is even more heartrending to look back on, with Pearl’s own new insight on Carla, and Stef and Lena.

 

_ “I can be an ear  _

_ Place where all your fears can live _

_ Heart on your sleeve, please” _

 

“What is that?” Pearl wonders, intrigued.

 

“Oh, I wrote Mariana a bunch of those haiku poems.  In that one, I basically volunteered myself to be there for her.  In these type of moments.” Levi comments, biting his lip.

 

“It’s really vivid,” Pearl compliments.

 

“I just...don’t know if I’m the right person?”  Levi’s fingers are itching to pet Cleo.

 

“Go on.  She’s not working right now,” Pearl encourages.  “Why don’t you feel like the right person?”

 

“God...so many reasons…” Levi sighs, scooping Cleo into his arms and letting her lick him all over the face.  A laugh bubbles out of him. It’s quickly growing to be one of Pearl’s most favorite sounds - and one she rarely heard - before The Avoiders visited.  “Like...I’m super young. I don’t have experience with what she’s going through at all. I mean, no offense, but I had great parents,” Levi winces.

 

“You do have great parents,” Pearl nods.  “That’s not offensive, that’s just a fact.  And you may not feel like the right person, but you are the person she called.  That means something.”

 

“So, how do I relate to her parents posting all their worst moments like a highlight reel on social media?  I’d die if anybody ever…” Levi trails off, abrupt.

 

“Levi?” Pearl checks.  

 

“Nothing.  Just...seems like a really crappy thing to do…” he says.  His voice sounds strange. Covered. He swallows.

 

“It is,” Pearl nods.

 

“Did Carla ever…?  Like, do something like that do you?” Levi’s eyes flicker to Pearl’s.  Away.

 

“No.  She actually hates social media.  She’s intensely private. Doesn’t like anyone knowing anything about her.  She used to get mad if I posted any pictures at all of her, even though they were nice ones.  She didn’t want her face on the internet. And she rarely posted about me.”

 

“Do you think she ever would?  Like, do something like what Lena did to Mari and Jesus?”

 

Pearl shudders.  “I seriously hope not.  And I think knowing Jesus has tons of ‘town gossip’ on her is enough to keep her from trying anything that hurts either of us.” 

 

“What if she doesn’t think it does hurt us?  I mean, you’ve said… Or maybe I’ve just thought it...like...people who treat people like she did us?  They don’t really see us as people, so they don’t think we can be hurt or that it matters if we are.” Levi looks so haunted.  So rattled. Pale. Like he looked all the time prior to very recently.

 

“Can I give you a hug?” Pearl asks.

 

“Another one?” Levi asks, incredulous.  “I mean, if you want.”

 

“I do,” Pearl nods, and leans across the space to put her arms around him.  “I won’t let her hurt you. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.  Okay?”

 

“Can I ask you a question and can you not ask anything about it back?  Just answer?” he wonders, pulling away and playing with a thread on the huge brown blanket he’s covered in.

 

“Yes,” Pearl answers.

 

“So...do you remember the kind of phone your mom had...back in 2012?”

 

“I think so.  Why? I mean, not why.  Sorry.” Pearl amends. “I think so.”

 

“Do you know if she still has it?  Or, like, the SIM card for it?” Levi wonders.

 

“That’s the phone that fell in the lake out there that summer,” Pearl nods at the window.  “She never found it. She was so angry.”

 

“Even if somebody did find it...it would probably be ruined.  Right?” Levi wonders.

 

“I think nearly a decade under water is pretty much a guarantee,” Pearl nods, hoping to reassure him.

 

“I’m gonna go to bed.  Night, Pearl. Thanks,” Levi says, offering a thin smile.  It widens considerably as he picks up Cleo. “Night, Smush-Face!  Love you,” Levi covers the pug in kisses and sets her down next to Pearl.

 

He’s almost out of sight when Pearl calls to Levi again.  “Hey, speaking of phones?”

 

Levi stiffens.  He doesn’t turn toward her.

 

“You’re not in trouble.  I was just wondering if Mariana keeps her phone volume up at night?  Or if you knew?” Pearl asks.

 

She watches has his shoulders relax.  As he sighs in relief. “I think she has it down at night.  Like, on silent.”

 

“Oh.  Okay.” Pearl nods.  “Good night. Love you like a brother,” she blurts.

 

He grins, shy.  Turns, scratching his head a little.  “Love you like a sister,” he says and disappears downstairs.

 

\--

 

Hours later, Pearl wakes up when Cleo is whining to be let out at 9 AM.  It’s a miracle she’s slept this late. Usually, she’s up at 5:00, but Levi took her out late last night, and that must’ve held her over.

 

Pearl’s out walking the Cleo, when the thought jolts through her.  Mariana. Pearl takes her phone out of her pocket and taps her friend’s name.  Waits.

 

“Hello…” Mariana’s sleepy voice greets her.

 

“Hey, it’s Pearl.  I just wanted to get to you before Stef or Lena noticed the bathroom…”

 

“What?” Mariana asks, still confused.  Her voice still heavy with sleep.

 

“Ouch!” Fran’s voice calls in the background.

 

“Oh.  Damn it.  Thank you.  Bye,” Mariana says in a rush, hanging up before Pearl can respond.

 

\--

 

Mariana makes her way to the bathroom, wincing as she knocks.

 

Francesca pulls it open, rubbing her knee.  “What the heck? Like...was there an earthquake that hit _ just  _ the bathroom...or?” she mutters irritably.

 

“Me,” Mariana whispers, slipping inside with Fran.

 

“I don’t get it.  And I have to take a shower,” Francesca grumbles.

 

She gets down and begins to fold towels and washcloths.  “I’m the earthquake.”

 

Francesca’s quiet, and then she moves carefully to lock both doors.  Comes back and takes the other end of a blue bath towel. They fold it together, Moms’ specific way.

 

“So...what did they do this time?” Fran asks, sad.

 

“Posted really awful pictures of Jesus and me on Mama’s Facebook,” Mariana admits.  “I don’t want you to look at them, Fran. Okay? Please?”

 

“I won’t.  I don’t even have a Facebook,” Francesca reassures.  She’s picking through and folding all the washcloths now that they’re done with the towels.  “Does Jesus know?” 

 

Mariana shakes her head.  “But Levi does. And Pearl.”

 

There’s a knock on the door.  “Frankie, get a move on, please!  Other people need to use the bathroom!” Lena calls.

 

Mariana falls quiet.

 

“Okay....” Fran calls.  She drops her voice again to talk to Mariana privately.  “Do you think Jesus should know? You know, because it is  _ of  _ him?  Or do you think it just counts as extra meanness after what Moms did to you guys?”

 

“I don’t know,” Mariana answers, closing her eyes.  “I don’t even… I just… It felt like extra meanness to me.  That’s all I know…” Mariana admits. “So, I wouldn’t want to do it to Jesus.”

 

“That’s kinda what I was thinking…” Fran admits.  “But what if he finds out? Will he feel bad?”

 

“Do you hate me?” Mariana asks, abrupt, blunt.  But not able to meet Fran’s gaze. “Because of what Mom said I did last night?”

 

“No…” Francesca hesitates, in a whisper.  “I’m just scared to go against Moms on anything.  Since it’s basically like, they hate both of us?”

 

“I’d rather you be safe,” Mariana manages, securing the towels and washcloths back in the closet.

 

“What?” Fran asks.

 

“If you need to act like you hate me to be safe, I want you to do it,” Mariana explains, resolved on this one thing.  Even if everything else is confusing as hell. There is no gray area when it comes to Francesca’s safety.

 

“But how far is it away from pretending to hate you to actually letting them get inside my mind and making me do it for real?  They did make me think you were Other Mariana before.”

 

“Before you knew better,” Mariana points out, even though Fran’s words cut deeply.

 

Fran pulls her lip between her teeth.  “Jaimie said that if somebody acts different  than the way they really are, sometimes it means they’re hurting.”

 

Mariana cocks her head, quizzically.

 

“Avoiders don’t hurt each other on purpose, even with words, right?  You didn’t have your accident on purpose. I’ll cover for you. Avoiders unite,” Francesca says, bumping her green bracelet against Mariana’s pink one. 

 

They look each other in the eyes, and chorus, “Pink goes good with green!” from  _ Wicked _ .  

 

Mariana can hear Fran hurrying back into the bedroom to pull clothes on.  Feeding Mama a line about how she couldn’t find anything to wear, and then there was no hot water, so she couldn’t shower.

 

Surveying the bathroom, now clean, Mariana breathes a sigh of relief.


	13. Say Something

It turns out that Pearl’s phone call leaves Mariana enough time to clean up the bathroom and get herself ready for Jesus to come by and pick her up.  But she still has to get downstairs and past Moms before she gets out the door.

 

Because the previous night has left her unsteady, and because she doesn’t hear anyone moving in the kitchen, Mari sits down to scoot again.

 

“Mariana,” Lena says from behind her.

 

She stops cold.  Frozen.

 

“I know you can walk down these stairs.  I’ve seen you do it.” Lena comments disapproving as Mariana gets to the bottom step and stands up.

 

Lena walks around her, to the kitchen.  “I’d swear she didn’t do any rehab at all while she was gone…”

 

“Not surprised…” Mariana can hear Stef respond from the kitchen.  “Mariana, you can’t live with us forever,” she calls.

 

_ But Jesus can, _ Mariana thinks, bitter.  They hadn’t wanted him to move out.  Had wanted him to stay. Same with Brandon, when he threatened to move in with Mike when he was sixteen.  Jude called Mariana a bunch a few years back, to complain that they were trying to talk him out of leaving the minute he turned eighteen.

 

“Hey.  Hold on, Miss Thang,” Stef stops her.  Damn it. Mariana’s almost made it to the door.

 

She turns to them, wary.

 

“Where’s your new clothes?” Stef asks.

 

Mariana wracks her brain, praying she doesn’t blurt out the truth: that she left them behind at Jesus’s, hoping he’d throw them away.

 

“It’s too hot…” Mariana says, breathing a sigh of relief.  (And it is true. May in San Diego is not exactly sweatsuit weather.)

 

“But it’s not too hot for that?” Stef asks, barely concealing her disgust for Mariana’s gift from Jaimie.  For her gift from Pearl. The hat and the shirt that she’d slept in.

 

Mariana’s got her hand on the doorknob, when Lena calls.  “By the way, what’s up with Pearl lately? She seems to think you and Jesus are super sensitive.  Obviously, she doesn’t have a clue what you’ve survived…”

 

Jesus beeps the horn in the driveway once.  Short. Saving her from anymore interrogation about Lena’s awful Facebook post.  Mariana hopes it will take Lena some time to realize Mari has untagged herself in all of the pictures.  (Hopefully protecting herself and Jesus from other acquaintances seeing them at their most vulnerable.)

 

Mariana opens the door.  Squints in the bright sun.  Barely makes out Jesus coming toward her to help her down the front steps.

 

“Hey,” he greets.  He seems sad. Subdued.  Or something. It makes sense.  She feels pretty much the same.

 

Jesus waits until they get to his apartment to talk more.  “What’s up with Stef?” he asks, irritable.

 

“What do you mean?” Mariana asks.

 

“I mean, she called me at like 7:30 this morning to give me the third degree about what’s going on with Pearl?  Like, Pearl’s not even here.”

 

“Can I make coffee?” Mariana asks.  “I gotta talk to you about something.  And I wanna be awake for it.”   
  


“Val made some this morning.  There’s leftover in the fridge.  I just don’t like leaving it in the pot.  I can get it. You still like it iced with sugar and vanilla?”

Mariana sighs, nodding.  It’s so different being around Jesus who totally knows her, instead of Moms, who totally don’t.

Minutes later, he brings her a cup and a cinnamon roll.  There’s one in front of him, too, with a bottle of water.

“So, there’s this thing,” Mariana starts, once she’s drained half of her coffee.  

“What kind of thing?” Jesus asks, curious.  A little wary. Mariana can see dark circles under his eyes.  Wonders if he slept at all.

“Pictures?” she asks.  “It has to do with pictures?”

“Okay…”

“Our birthday sucked, and I don’t wanna hurt you...more...you know?  But I feel like...as Avoiders...we’re honest?”

Jesus nods.

“So, I just feel like it’s your...right, or whatever...to know…  Lena shared some pictures of us. In public,” Mariana begins, avoiding any mention of Facebook altogether.  Knowing it’s pictures will be awful enough.

Jesus looks at her.  “What kind of pictures?” he asks, measured.

“You know back when Callie was doing her senior project?  The first time? Kinda like that.” Mariana says wearily.

Jesus closes his eyes.

“So, Pearl saw them.  And told Lena that neither one of us would have consented to sharing them.  Which, we wouldn’t. I saw them. Char and Pav tried to say something, too. But I guess Brandon got into it with all three of them.  Oversharing about us, and how we ruined their lives with our trauma… And Lena just pretended nothing happened at all.”

“Which pictures?” Jesus asks carefully.

“Are you sure you wanna know?” Mariana asks.

He nods.  “Don’t show me.  But, like. If you can tell me anything about them?”

So, Mariana describes the four pictures.  Sparse details, for speech reasons as much as for sparing Jesus unnecessary trauma.  When she finishes, Mariana watches his face. She can’t read what he’s thinking.

“She shared these on Facebook, right?” Jesus asks, quietly.

Mariana nods.

“So everybody’s seen them…” he deduces.  

She nods again, finally picking up her cinnamon roll and taking a bite.  

She can see the wheels turning in his brain.  “If we knew her password, we could get on and delete them ourselves…”

“But we don’t…” Mariana cautions.  “We don’t need to be doing any secret missions right now, Jesus.  She just thinks Pearl has the wrong impression of us. Like we’re gonna break, or something…”

“Even though Pearl’s the person who _ actually knows _ us…” Jesus nods.  “Damn it, I want her to take them down.  I get that it’s not the same as...other pics or whatever...but it still feels, like…”

“Violating….” Mariana offers.

“Totally,” Jesus confirms.

They eat in silence for a while.  Once all of Mariana’s coffee and about half the cinnamon roll are gone, and she’s thinking seriously about a nap, Jesus looks at her.

“You okay that Stef told everybody you were drinking that night?” he asks softly.

Mariana glances at Jesus sharply.  “What? You knew?”

“We all knew, Mari,” Jesus says, apologetic.  “Except Fran. Moms wanted to keep it under wraps.  But I think they figured you remembered, too.”

“I didn’t,” Mariana admits.  “But it explains a lot. How they are with me.  Do you remember them taking the picture of us with the perfume stuff last night?”

“No…  I remember the clothes.  Like, them taking a picture of me with those,” Jesus offers.

“I don’t remember it, either.  Lena was like… It was like that last picture Lena shared?  She thought it showed us...doing well? She wrote at the top about how far we came or something…”

“But really, they’d freaked both of us out to the point we don’t even remember that pic being taken…” Jesus shares.

Mariana nods.  She glances around.  “You threw their stuff away?”

“Yeah, Dominique said she asked you.  Said you were good with it,” Jesus checks, nervous.

“No, yeah, I was.  Just...Moms already asked me...about the sweatsuit.  Jealous I’m wearing this.”

“You know, I’m not exaggerating when I say our birthday brought up a crapton of feelings from being There.  Like...when did being around Moms start to feel the same as being around Him?” Jesus asks.

“When they decided we didn’t need basic respect or whatever anymore…” Mariana offers.  

Jesus’s phone rings and he picks up, showing Mariana the screen. “Michael,” he whispers, in case she hasn’t had enough time to read it.  He picks up. “Hey, I got you on speaker. Mariana’s here.”

“How are my second favorite twins doing this morning?” Michael checks.

“Ouch,  _ second favorite _ ?  What?” Jesus says.  “I’m so hurt,” he says but he’s laughing.

“Well, Jaimie and me were besties - as the kids say now - with twins in high school.  So as much as I appreciate y’all…”

“No, we appreciate the honesty,” Jesus says.

“Seriously, though?  You guys okay?” Michael asks.

“Processing,” Mariana volunteers.

“Yeah?  How’s that going?” Michael asks.

“Slow,” she offers.

“Well, that’s the best way.  Take your time,” he encourages.  

“Do you know the best way to get somebody to take something down from social media?” Jesus asks Michael.

“Assuming asking’s not doing the trick, there’s reporting them.  Which usually does nothing. Sorry I can’t be of more help.”

“Dude, no, you are,” Jesus insists.  “PS your tiramisu was amazing.”

“It was.  I wish I got to have more than a few bites.  I didn’t know Moms were gonna show up and finish it off,” Mariana says longingly.

“Well, we’ll have to fix that sometime.  Sometime when you two and Fran have time, let’s plan Tiramisu Time at the house.”

“Sounds good,” Jesus answers, smiling.  “Hey, uh…” Jesus clears his throat. “Thank you, you know, for being there for me last night.”

“Anytime.  I’ll let you two go, if there’s nothing else,” Michael says.

“Sounds good.  Bye, Michael,” Jesus answers, hanging up.

“What does he mean?” Mariana asks.  “Is that when you both left?”

“Yeah, I was having a hard time...like...with safety,” Jesus admits.  “But Michael noticed and had my back.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t,” Mariana apologizes.

“Mariana, you can’t be everything for everybody,” Jesus reassures.

“Right.  I can’t be  _ anything _ for  _ anybody _ .  I can’t live at home forever.” Mariana mutters darkly.

“That’s not what I meant, Mari.  I meant don’t put so much pressure on yourself.  And that last part sounds like Moms…”

She nods.  “Yeah.”

“Why do they have to say crap like that,” Jesus says, upset.

“Because I went down the stairs on my butt.  Didn’t look normal enough. Good thing I was at the bottom when Lena caught on.  I was pretty sure she was about to...haul me up...right there. I was just trying to get out the door…and instead, I got, ‘You didn’t do enough therapy when you were gone…’”

“I wanna ask them how much therapy  _ they did _ while we were gone?” Jesus says under his breath.  “Even a couple years ago, they were still all about family therapy, couples therapy and all that.  Now? Nothing. It’s not like we can’t tell…”

“Money,” Mariana states.  “Insurance. It only covers so much.  And now...they’ve had these massive hospital bills coming to the house.  Seriously...do you  _ know  _ how expensive an ambulance ride is?   _ Just _ that?”

“It kept you alive,” Jesus states quietly.  “I wouldn’t care how much it cost.”

“Well, not everyone’s good...like you…” Mariana manages.  “With them, it’s ‘unnecessary expenses.’ I never got it. But if I hadn’t gotten myself in this mess?  We wouldn’t be here…with money problems...with Moms pissed off all the time…”

“Mariana, they’d find reasons to be pissed off without that,” Jesus says, impatient.

Mariana squints.  “What are you saying?  That I’m overreacting?”

“No, I’m saying that you don’t deserve what they’re doing to you.  Life happens. People make mistakes. They’re raising human beings, not clones of themselves.”

“They stopped raising me.  A long time ago…” Mariana insists.

“Pretty much…” Jesus breathes.  “But listen, if you need to? Please talk to somebody.  An Avoider? About all this.”

“I am,” Mariana says, reaching out for Jesus’s hand.  And he’s reciprocating before she realizes icing’s making her hand all sticky.

But Jesus takes it anyway.

“Seriously...is there anything else going on?  You seem...I don’t know…” Jesus hedges.

“I just found out I caused my own TBI, Jesus.  That’s plenty of reason to be ‘I don’t know,’” Mariana insists.

“Right, but it’s more than that, isn’t it?” Jesus checks.

“Maybe…” she says softly, sliding her eyes away - her hand from his.  “Maybe it’s a hell of a lot more...and I can’t talk about any of it.”

“I’m worried about you…” Jesus admits.

“It’s fine,” Mariana insists, forcing a smile.  “You know. Just feelings. It’s whatever.”

“The thing about feelings?  Jesus asks. “They have teeth.  They can tear you up before you even see it coming.”

Mariana gets up from the table.  Goes to the futon. Needs to block the hell out of everything.  “So do I, Jesus…” Mariana mutters against the fabric. “A lot of good they ever did me…”


	14. Skin

While Mariana’s sleeping, Jesus checks his phone.  He’s had the volume down while he and Mariana were talking, once he took Michael’s call.  But now it looks like his Twitter and his email have blown up.

 

“What the hell…?” he mutters under his breath, clicking on Twitter.  It’s full of alerts from Twitter handles he’s never even heard of, tweeting him:

 

_ @ItsHeyZeus happy bday!!!!  Ur mom is right, u came so far!!! _

 

_ @ItsHeyZeus Wow…  Love seeing ‘new’ pics of you.  Hope Mariana is feeling better now. _

 

_ @ItsHeyZeus Nothing like a mother’s love…Hope you’ve thanked your amazing mamas!!!! _

 

The third person has attached the pics to her tweet.  Jesus swallows. Not sure he’s ready to go there yet. At least not without some serious backup.

 

His Twitter notifications show that Jesus has 69 more just like this.  He figures the number is climbing. But he knows that there is no way he can stay on social media and in a healthy frame of mind if he keeps looking at it.

 

Jesus’s email app also shows a number 5 over it.  He clicks it, and just looking at subject lines is enough:

 

_ GMA interview request - recent pictures _

_ Never the same _

_ My daughter is still missing advice??? _

 

Jesus closes his eyes.  It’s starting. He’s glad Mariana gave him a heads up because the only way this would be worse is if it came up with zero warning.

 

His head is spinning.  Jesus has to try and clear his head.  Who can he call about this? Who would know about picture stuff?

 

Feeling a surge of anxiety, he taps a name, going into the bathroom and closing him and Dudley inside.  He turns on the fan, hoping Mari can keep sleeping.

 

“Callie,” he breathes, the second she answers.  “Mama’s pics from last night… They’re out.”

 

“I saw,” she answers.  “I’m really sorry, Jesus,” she apologizes and he thinks back to the session in Dr. H’s office.  How they worked through Callie’s crossing of his boundaries with pics years ago. How she seemed to get it when he made it personal for her - asking how she’d feel if someone documented and shared publicly any pictures of her and Jude grieving, for example.

 

“Can they do this?” he asks, a little breathless.  “Like, legally? Do you know?”

 

“I think so… “ he can hear her wincing. “Fair Use In The Age Of Social Media and all that.  Hey, did you and Mari get the gift card?”

 

“Yeah, thanks,” Jesus says.  “Listen, I gotta go. Okay. Bye.”

 

Thinking about his trauma counselor from the ages of 13 to 18, and how Dr. H. had been instrumental in helping him through the last picture-related breach of his boundaries, Jesus finds himself calling her at home.

 

Over the years, their relationship has evolved, from doctor/patient to a kind of mentor/mentee thing.  He wouldn’t necessarily call them friends, but she’s made it clear that if he ever needs her for any urgent reason, he should not hesitate to call.

 

“Jesus,” she greets, sounding regretful.  “I’m sorry to say, I expected to hear from you today.”

 

“Yeah.  Mariana just told me about the pictures Lena posted.  And now I just checked social media, and they’re everywhere.”

 

“I assume Lena has been asked to take them down?” Dr. H. deduces.

 

“By, like, three people, yeah.  She just deleted their comments.” Jesus nods.  “I just talked to Callie, too, and she says the randos are totally within their rights to keep reposting it because of some fair social media law.”

 

“She would be correct, unfortunately.” Dr. H. says grimly.

 

“Lena won’t listen to anybody on this.  Not me. Not Mariana. I’d thought about, like, making a statement and posting it to my Twitter.  Like, Mari and me, together? But I don’t know if I should…”

 

“Why is that?” Dr. H. asks kindly.

 

“Because...is it my right...to like, stir the pot on this?” Jesus asks tentatively.  “I haven’t even seen the pictures yet. I kinda wanted backup when I did…”

 

“I’m here,” Dr. H. reassures.  “If you choose to look at them while we’re on the phone together.”

 

Jesus takes a deep breath and blows it out, making sure he’s as present as he can be.  At the last second, he relocates, because looking at exploitative pics of himself and his sis while he’s  _ in the bathroom _ just doesn’t seem like the safest thing.  He moves to the spare room, and closes the door behind himself and Dudley.

 

He looks.

 

It’s worse than he imagined.

 

The day he and Mariana arrived at Stef and Lena’s.  They’re in jackets that weren’t even theirs. Holding tight to each other’s hands.  Their smiles unnaturally wide. In the second pic, it’s the day he got home. He’s sleeping under the piano and his raw wrist is exposed.  The third pic makes tears come to his eyes. Seeing Mariana in such a vulnerable position, shaved hair, scars, clearly in pain. He’s there, crouched next to her.  (He hadn’t even known Lena was taking pics.) And the last one of them - him with the dirt cologne and Mari with the smelly as hell perfume. Smiling too wide again.  Eyes fearful. 

 

Jesus can’t help but remember a decade or more ago when He used to always take pics of Jesus in hella compromising positions.  Always telling Jesus to smile. But sometimes not giving him a heads up about taking them in the first place.

 

This feels like that.  The way Lena posted these.  The comments under them. Stef not even second-guessing these going up.  Brandon commenting about Jesus being about to take Mari’s blanket, like it was some joke to take his sister’s one comfort from her.  Jenna kinda enjoying their pain. Like they don’t exist for themselves. Like they’re nothing. Just warm bodies.

 

(God, how could Moms do this?)

 

“He’s kinda getting in my head.” Jesus admits.

 

“If you’re at your limit, Jesus, it’s okay to look away.” Dr. H. encourages.  “Do you need to share how you’re feeling?”

 

“Violated,” Jesus says immediately, remembering Mari’s word for it.

 

“That makes a lot of sense, given your history with being photographed - with them being shared - without your consent.” Dr. H. says, as Jesus takes some deep breaths.  Dudley’s here, licking his face, too.

 

It takes several minutes to get a grip on himself.  To feel really present. “I knew that was gonna be hard.  But I also kinda felt like I had to see it for myself? Is that screwed up?” Jesus wonders.

 

“Not at all.  And it is absolutely your right - and Mariana’s - to ‘stir the pot’ on this, Jesus.  You’re not proposing making a scene here. You’re talking about the possibility of publicly addressing something that concerns you and your sister.  Taking your power back. Making clear your boundaries and expectations. Having a public statement available could also help curb some of the unwanted correspondence you’re likely receiving.”

 

They spend a little longer on the phone together, until he hears a tap on the spare room door.  Opens it to find Mariana on the other side.

 

“I gotta go.  But thanks so much.”

 

“You do what feels right to you, Jesus,” Dr. H. reassures.

 

\--

 

Jesus steps into the living room.  “So. They’re out. Lena’s pics…” he says grimly.

 

Mariana shuts her eyes.  “Seriously… So, God, now  _ everyone _ knows.”

 

“Yeah, I’d stay off social media,” he warns.  “But I wanted to know if you’d be willing to give your input on something.”

 

“What?” she asks.

 

“A statement, addressing whatever we wanna say about the pictures.  I can post it on my Twitter. You can on yours if you want.”

 

“Like, saying what?” Mariana asks.  She goes to the kitchen. Pours more coffee.

 

“That they were posted without our consent, mostly.  To respect our privacy. That kind of thing. I had almost 100 Twitter notifications and 5 emails when I checked a little bit ago, and I think they’d only just gotten out.”

 

“It’s just gonna get worse…” Mariana says knowingly.

 

“Right,” he nods.  “So… What do we wanna say?”

 

\--

 

_ @ItsHeyZeus: About those pictures (5/17/21)...a note from me and my sis… _

 

_ You might think you know us because of what you know about us.  But social media only tells you part of the story… _

 

_ On Monday, 5/17/21 at 10:32 p.m. PST four pictures were posted of us by our parents on their social media.  We did not (and do not) consent to these pictures being used or shared. They show us in private moments, or moments where we did not know we were being photographed.  Definitely, moments we never consented to sharing with the entire world. _

 

_ Please respect our privacy during this time, and do not continue to share the pictures in question. _

 

_ Jesus and Mariana Adams Foster _

 

\--

 

It takes most of the day to draft what they wanna say in their statement, and even then, Jesus and Mariana aren’t 100% sold on it.  

 

“What do you think about running it by the grown up Avoiders?  Pearl, Dominique, maybe Levi?” Jesus asks. “For, like, in case we forgot to mention something.  Or if they have other suggestions?”

 

“Yes, Levi,” Mariana nods.  “If he wants. And yeah, I think that’d be okay.  What about Pav and Char? Can we get their take, too?  I mean, since they were in on trying to get Lena to take them down?”

 

“Sure,  we’ll see who’s around,” Jesus agrees.  

 

Mariana messages Avoiders Chat to see who’s around to touch base.  Then, Support Group Chat to see if Char and Pav are around.

 

Pearl responds in seconds:

 

_ Here.  What’s up?  Levi’s at work :(  _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ I think Dom is, too, and Fran’s at school. _

 

**_Char:_ **

_ I’m on break. _

 

**_Pav:_ **

_ I can talk for a bit.  What’s up? _

 

With Jesus tuned in on his own phone, he watches as Mariana’s messages go through.  She’s typing on his laptop because it’s faster.

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Jesus and I wanted your feedback on a thing we wrote about the pics Moms posted.  They’re public now :/ If you’re in the place to read abt it / make suggestions? _

 

All three say yes and Jesus attaches the screencapped memo from his phone.

 

Pearl is the first to respond:

 

_ Are you prepared knowing your moms will also see this? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ I figured they will. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ I’m scared but being quiet = being complicit. _

 

Char thumbs-ups the statement.

 

**_Pav:_ **

_ Just make sure that’s everything you wanna say.  And make sure you’re both good with posting it before you do.  I’m sorry this is happening. _

 

Fran pops up in Avoider’s Chat:  

 

_ I like your state ment lots of ppl at school saw your pics and I will show them this is what you said abt it if you want.  Can I save to my phone and show them? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Yes, thanks for asking, buddy. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Yes.  Go to school.  Love you. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Lunch time. _

 

She sends a sloth sticker saying: “Wanna hang?”

 

Another shows two sloths hugging and says “Love You 2.”

 

A half an hour later, Dominique pops in:

 

_ I will share the hell outta this.  Mom and Dad, too, if you want. _

 

Jesus and Mariana look at each other.

 

“Michael and Jaimie,” they chorus and send the statement in a Polo to both, asking if they’ll read through it and let them know if anything was missed.

 

Jaimie sends a heart.  Michael Polos back from his office.  “I’d take down your email addresses. Especially if you have one associated with Twitter, for the time being.  I’d be happy to get the word out, guys. Gotta get back to work.”

 

Last but not least, Levi messages Mariana and Jesus privately, sending a video:

 

“You guys posting your statement is giving me the courage to do this.”  Jesus watches as Levi takes the key from around his neck. Unlocks the lock box at the back of his closet.  He opens it, and Jesus can see the way outdated phone inside, in an old-school lime-green otterbox.

 

They watch as he takes it out to the driveway.  Smashes it with a hammer. Throws it in the trash outside the cabin. With the key on the lanyard.  With the now-empty lockbox.

 

“Whoa…” Jesus comments.

 

“Do you know what that’s about?” Mariana asks.

 

“I do.  It’s huge,” Jesus answers.

 

Mariana types:

 

_ Proud of you.  We’re stronger bc of your courage. _

 

\--

 

“So, we got feedback.  Are you still good with going public with this?” Jesus double checks.

 

“I think it’s way better than saying nothing.  This way they won’t bug us to comment about it or whatever,” Mariana says.  “Still freaked out about Moms, but...I can’t just let them do this to you.”

 

“I can’t just let them do it to  _ you _ ,” Jesus returns.  “I saw the pics, Mariana.  I can’t let Lena and Stef think it’s okay to do that…”

 

“So, we agree?  Consent? We’re gonna do this?” Mariana asks.

 

“On three?” Jesus asks, once he’s taken his email address off his Twitter profile and has the post created, with the screencap attached.  He crosses his fingers.

 

She does, too.

 

They count together.  “One, two, three…”

 

Jesus hits  _ Tweet _ .  Watches it go live.

 

Closes his eyes.


	15. Pieces

_ 40404: _

_ @ItsHeyZeus: About those pictures (5/17/21)...a note from me and my sis… _

 

_ 40404: _

_ @NoSecretAnymor: RT @ItsHeyZeus: About those pictures… _

 

_ Lena: _

_ Did you know they were going to do this??? _

 

_ Stef: _

_ Why they can’t be like normal kids and just talk to us is beyond me.  So, the pics got out. There’s nothing wrong w them, Lena.  _

 

_ Lena: _

_ I can’t deal w this right now, Stef!  Some media outlet found my # and keeps calling me at work… _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ Stef: _

_ Miss Thang, you have some explaining to do… _

 

_ Stef: _

_ I am at work and so is Mama.  We don’t have time to deal with you and Jesus being dramatic. _

 

_ Stef:  _

_ This is very hurtful.  I always respond to your texts. _

 

_ Stef: _

_ Talk to you when I get home then.  You can’t AVOID me forever AVOIDER. _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ @SAdamsFoster: My wife & I are stunned and saddened by the statement released by our children.  When did expressing love for family become a crime? We ask that you please respect our privacy during this difficult time. _

 

_ @JennaPaul likes this _

 

_ @LAdamsFoster retweeted this. _

 

_ @MomsofMissing: What we wouldn’t give to be able to post pictures of our babies surviving!!!  Heads high, Mamas! They’ll appreciate it one day! _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ @DarinSharon: Oh, for Pete’s sake!  My grandkids sure are sensitive, aren’t they?  They’re pictures! (1/2)  _

 

_ @DarinSharon: Took this one a hot second after @ItsHeyZeus came home.  Wasn’t allowed to post then, but all bets are off now, right, @SAdamsFoster?  Look how little he was! And that smile… Still remember the caption - something like “My grandson - home at last!” (2/2) _

 

_ @SAdamsFoster @DarinSharon OMG Mom I didn’t know you still had that one!  Precious! _

 

_ @ItsHeyZeus @DarinSharon Plz take this down, Grandma. RT: About those pictures (5/17/21)...a note from me and my sis… _

_ @NoSecretAnymor retweeted _

_ @IMadeItToo retweeted _

_ @CharisseUnderhill retweeted _

_ @ParvatiWare retweeted _

_ @JCarterWilliams retweeted _

_ \-- _

 

_ @CharisseUnderhill: RT @ItsHeyZeus: About those pictures… _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ @ParvatiWare: RT @ItsHeyZeus: About those pictures… _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ @IMadeItToo: RT @ItsHeyZeus: About those pictures… _

 

_ Dominique Williams: Sharing this on FB bc it matters.  Don’t come at me w/ any nonsense today. I’m not here for it… _

 

_ Lisa Schellenberg: His moms did nothing wrong. _

 

_ Kim Nickel: ^ What Lisa said… _

 

_ Dominique Williams: What did I say?  Post on your own page. _

 

_ Parvati Ware: @Lisa @Kim Don’t talk about what you don’t understand. _

 

_ Levi West: Speaking from the heart, their moms did EVERYTHING wrong  :( _

 

_ Pearl West: You don’t document your children’s suffering and then exploit it for pity points.  That’s not how any of this works. _

 

_ Messages: _

_ Brandon Foster: _

_ Dominique, how can you live with yourself, knowing you are tearing a family apart? _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ Jude Adams Foster: I’m with Jesus and Mariana on this.  <3 you both. _

 

_ Jenna Paul: Jude Jacob, boy are your moms going to be disappointed… _

 

_ Jude Adams Foster: Really?  They raised us to support each other.  You’d think they’d be proud.. _

 

_ Garrett Paul: I’m proud of you, Jude. _

 

_ Taylor Shaw: Me, too. _

 

_ Callie Adams Foster: Me, three. _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ @LauraLizSmith: I was Jesus’s fifth grade teacher (2008-2009 school year).  There is nothing I can say that can come close to apologizing to you, Jesus, for not doing something - anything.  I believe you. I’m sorry. _

_ RT: @ItsHeyZeus About those pictures… _

 

_ @ItsHeyZeus is now following @LauraLizSmith _

 

_ @LauraLizSmith is now following @ItsHeyZeus _

 

_ Messages: _

_ Laura E. Smith _

_ I’ve always remembered you as one adult who noticed me.  Who asked ?s. Thank you. - Jesus _

 

_ ForTheMissing: _

_ I don’t deserve your thanks, but I am so glad to hear from you.  If there is anything I can do to help you and Mariana with this situation, let me know. Love, Mrs. Smith _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ Callie (@EyeOfTheBeholder) . Instagram _

 

_ @EyeOfTheBeholder If you want to share an image, share this one.   _

 

_ (Jesus, it’s been years, but I still remember our conversation re: pictures and consent.  I photograph differently because of it. Love you both. Callie.) _

_. _

_ “Text reads:  “You might think you know us because of what you know about us.  But social media only tells you part of the story… _

 

_ On Monday, 5/17/21 at 10:32 p.m. PST four pictures were posted of us by our parents on their social media.  We did not (and do not) consent to these pictures being used or shared. They show us in private moments, or moments where we did not know we were being photographed.  Definitely, moments we never consented to sharing with the entire world. _

 

_ Please respect our privacy during this time, and do not continue to share the pictures in question. _

 

_ Jesus and Mariana Adams Foster” _

 

_ @LenaShopsALot has unfollowed @EyeOfTheBeholder _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ Brandon Foster shared: _

 

**_Oldest Foster Sibling Comments on Photo Controversy:_ **

 

_ Posted 5/18/21 5:29 PST _

 

_ Brandon Foster (24) of San Diego posted the following statement on his Facebook: _

 

_ “I’m heartbroken for my moms.  I know how hard they’ve worked raising us.  My youngest sister, Frankie, is special needs, and they have always taken care of her.  She has always been a part of our family. These are not the kind of parents who would do anything malicious toward any of their kids. _

_ “I can’t pretend to know what went through Jesus and Mariana’s minds when they posted their statement.  I know they can’t begin to know what it’s like to raise a kid with special needs, plus a kid who disappeared and came back different plus a kid who had a car accident and changed totally, too. _

_ “My moms have put up with more than any parents should ever go through in one lifetime.  They’ve got work and two kids still at home. They really don’t have time for this, and they definitely don’t deserve it.” _

 

_ Mariana Adams Foster: _

_ We are not broken.  Please stop writing about us like we are. _

 

_ Shares: _

_ Lena Adams Foster _

_ Stef Adams Foster _

_ Talya Banks _

_ Mike Foster _

_ Jenna Paul _

 

_ Angry: _

_ Timothy Hasani _

_ Dana Adams _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ Francesca: _

_ Brandon I am not special needs! _

 

_ Brandon: _

_ Newsflash, yeah you are. _

 

_ Francesca: _

_ I’m a human being!  I have CP! Stop telling the news I’m special needs I hate when you say that!!! _

 

_ Brandon: _

_ Frankie, CP is a special need. _

 

_ Francesca: _

_ CP means I need acomadations!  That’s normal not special! _

 

_ Brandon: _

_ Look I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, but it’s the truth.  It’s time you faced it instead of hanging out with people who normalize it. _

 

_ Francesca: _

_ [Angry emojis] ???? _

 

_ Brandon: _

_ Jesus, Mariana and your little group of friends are making you believe in a fantasy world.  You ARE different. I’m sorry you don’t like to see it in print but it’s true. _

 

_ Francesca: _

_ Your just a peeon.  Bye. Don’t talk abt me ever again. _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ Levi West: _

_ Let’s make asking consent before sharing pics a thing…Read the statement and consider how you’d feel if it were you being shown in vulnerable moments across childhood and beyond… _

 

_ Michael Green: “To infinity and beyond!” _

 

_ Levi West: Dude, shut up.  This is serious. _

 

_ Cheyanne Lake: Why?  Do you, like, know them or something? _

 

_ Levi West:  Wowwww… Do I have to know somebody to respect their dignity?  _

 

_ Nia West:  I’m gonna start asking consent before I post pictures of you.  Never thought too deeply on it before. Thank you for telling me.  Proud of you, baby. _

_ Like: _

_ Pearl West _

_ Nia West _

_ Michael Williams _

_ Jaimie Williams _

_ Dominique Williams _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ #FosterPhotoControversy is trending _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ @Disability_Strong: Can’t believe the Moms @ the center of #FosterPhotoControversy keep defending their actions.  As a disabled woman, I can say our community is exploited all the time in this manner. Thanks, @ItsHeyZeus and @NoSecretAnymor for speaking up! _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ @SpecialMom2Boys: #FosterPhotoControversy makes me terrified to post ANY pics of my special little ones. :(  _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ @LoveOnWheels @LAdamsFoster @SAdamsFoster You should be ashamed! _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ @BeautifulTraumaMe2: Not hard to see why @ItsHeyZeus and @NoSecretAnymor didn’t want those pics up. If my parents posted pics like that of me I know I couldn’t be as brave… #FosterPhotoControversy _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ @MWilliams71: #FosterPhotoControversy Listen up, parents.  Your kids rights don’t expire just because they grow up. This is coming from a fellow parent.  Thanks for coming to my TEDTalk. _

_ RT: @ItsHeyZeus About those pictures… _

_ \-- _

 

_ @JZLutz #FosterPhotoControversy is a joke.  I taught Jesus at Ocean Park Elementary in LA when he was a fourth grader.  Troublemaker even then. Stood in the corner on his first / second / third day.  Still just all about wanting attn. No surprise there. _

 

_ @IMadeItToo: Why do you think he was acting out?  Seriously, he was living w/ something unimaginable.  Least you could do is show some compassion right now. _

 

_ @NoSecretAnymor likes this. _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ Pearl West: _

_ I believe them.  For a myriad of personal reasons, I believe them.  I stand behind them. And I will not tolerate any bashing of them on my page.  If you came to do that, move along, please. Read the statement and share: _

 

_ Like: _

_ Parvati Ware _

_ Charisse Underhill _

_ Levi West _

_ Nia West _

_ Mariana Adams Foster _

 

_ Angry: _

_ Brandon Foster _

_ Stef Adams Foster _

_ Lena Adams Foster _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ Lena Adams Foster: _

_ By now, I’m sure you’re all aware of the craziness stemming from my completely well meaning post, congratulating my kids on their birthday.  The hate and vitriol I have received from the ‘disability community’ and ‘survivor community’ has led me to take down the pictures of my beautiful children.  Thank you to all those who have stood by our family through all of our most trying times. We have come through worse and we will get through this. _

 

_ Stef Adams Foster: _

_ Yes, we will! _

_ Dana Adams: _

_ Dear, please think about your words before you alienate the majority of the population.  ‘Hate’ and ‘vitriol’ are strong words for people who are part of your children’s community and identity.  Have you apologized? _

_ Lena Adams Foster: _

_ I didn’t do anything wrong, Mom.  I’m done with people shaming me. I thought at least I could count on you to be in my corner. _

_ Dana Adams: _

_ Loving you does not mean condoning every choice you make. _

_ Lena Adams Foster: _

_ Let’s discuss this privately. _

 

_ Dana Adams: _

_ Think about how you would feel if I disregarded that. _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ @AmandaThomas School nurse at Ocean Park Elementary in LA.  I keep seeing former teachers / staff commenting to criticize / apologize to @ItsHeyZeus.  I wish I had pushed harder that day, but I know you don’t need my guilt on top of everything else.  Sharing because it’s the least I can do: _

_ RT: @ItsHeyZeus About those pictures… _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ @AcevedoM @ItsHeyZeus Taught 6th grade Language @ Washington Middle in LA.  You called me Mrs. A. and thought writing in a journal was maybe kind of okay after all.  _

_ RT: @ItsHeyZeus About those pictures… _

 

_ @ItsHeyZeus likes this _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ Mariana Adams Foster: _

_ Crossposting for reasons...Read our statement.  #fosterphotocontroversy _

 

_ Brandon Foster: _

_ Wow, you just insist on hurting Moms, don’t you?  Way to go. _

 

_ Mariana Adams Foster: _

_ From Fran: Wow, you just insist on hurting US and never saying sorry.  Way to go. _

 

_ Brandon Foster: _

_ Letting our 11-year-old sister use FB.  Great influence… _

 

_ Dana Adams: _

_ Brandon, stop this.   _

_ \-- _

 

_ Jaimie Carter Williams: _

 

_ Yes, I know I’m late in making my thoughts known on today’s news.  But that’s because it’s not just a headline for me. It’s personal. _

 

_ See, I’m in a unique position here.  Because I’m both a mother of a child (Tiana* a pseudonym chosen by her) who was abducted.  Most of you know this about me. I’m also a trauma survivor (most of you don’t know that last part.) _

 

_ People are saying that no one can comment on the mothers in the story being wrong unless they’ve walked in their shoes.  Well, I have. I have walked where they have. And I would not wish it on my worst enemy. I really wouldn’t. Because I would give anything so that Tiana never had to endure what she did. _

 

_ The thing is, because I’m also a trauma survivor, I’ve learned a thing or two about privacy.  Just like I’m not about to go into detail about what happened to me, I’m also not gonna share about Tiana publicly.  That includes online. Because IT’S NOT MY BUSINESS. Because I respect Tiana as a fellow human being. Because I get that sharing about Tiana’s vulnerable moments to gain attention for myself makes me as guilty as anybody who hurt her.  As Tiana’s mom, I am her first protector. I must always be that. But too often when kids survive trauma of one sort or another, respect and dignity go out the window. _

 

_ Tiana’s story is hers to tell.  Photos of her are hers to choose to share or not.  Because I don’t own Tiana. She is her own person, with rights to dignity and privacy.  She will never outgrow that, no matter how old she gets. _

 

_ Jesus, Mariana and kids like them will always always have my full support.  Because being a mother is not an excuse to abuse your children. _

 

_ (*Shared with Tiana’s permission.) _

 

_ Rozariah Miller: _

_ Love you, Jaim!  Is this public? (Saw you X-posted to Twitter.)  If so, can we share? This is truth ppl need to see! _

_ Jaimie Williams: _

_ It is public.  Just protect Tiana’s identity when you post and comment. _

_ Rozariah Miller: _

_ Always protect Tiana!  My niece, the queen! _

_ Jaimie Williams: _

_ She says Love you Auntie Roz. _

  
  


_ Love: _

_ Dominique Williams _

_ Michael Williams _

_ Rozariah Miller _

_ Royal Miller _

_ Levi West _

_ Nia West _

 

_ Shares: _

_ Michael Williams _

_ Dominique Williams _

_ Nia West _

_ Rozariah Miller _

_ Levi West _

_ Royal Miller _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ Search Twitter: _

 

_ @LAdamsFoster pics Jesus Mariana _

 

_ This Tweet is unavailable _


	16. Stitches

“Is that really your fifth grade teacher?” Fran asks impressed, gesturing to Jesus’s phone where he’s shown the tweet from his former teacher.  “Like, you actually talked to her? In real life?”

 

“What do you mean?” Jesus wonders.  He, Fran, Mari and Dominique are gathered at Avoidance for processing.  So far, Francesca has gone back and forth between being angry at Brandon (which, they pretty much all are) and asking questions about Mrs. Smith.

 

“You know, ‘cause I’m also in fifth grade,” Fran points out, during breaks in the second Harry Potter book.  Dominique really does have the best voice for reading aloud, but Jesus doesn’t tell her. He knows it would just make her uncomfortable.

 

“Yeah,” Jesus smiles a little.

 

“So, she was your real live teacher?  For real?” Fran presses.

 

“Yeah.  I went to her class every day,  Like you go to your fifth grade class,” Jesus explains.  “She was super nice.”

 

“But, how did you…  I mean, I  _ know _ …  It’s just weird,” Francesca tries.

 

“How, what?” Mari asks.

 

“How did she not know you were really our brother?” Francesca asks earnestly.  “That you really needed to come back home?”

 

Jesus feels an ache inside.  Isn’t that the same question he’s been asking himself all day?  Especially with all his former teachers and school staff from LA coming out of the woodwork…  There were so many times Jesus thought he was going to be rescued. That someone might figure it out.  But no one ever did.

 

Not Mrs. Lutz when he was in trouble every single day of fourth grade for not focusing.  Not Mrs. Smith when he came to fifth grade after winter break, super light-sensitive after being chained in the dark basement.  Not Nurse Thomas, who saw his scars. And not Mrs. Acevedo who read his Language notebook each day, and never noticed the numbers at the top of each page didn’t go in any kind of order.  That they were documentation, of just how many times Something Else had happened to him.

 

“I don’t know, buddy,” Jesus sighs.  “Honestly, I’ve been asking myself the same thing.”

 

“I always thought adults just knew stuff…” Fran ventures.

 

“Like, what stuff?” Dominique wonders.

 

“Like, when something’s wrong or something?  But Brandon’s an adult, and Moms are adults and they don’t even care about all the wrong stuff they’re doing…”

 

“Yeah, I used to think that, too,” Jesus admits.  “But adults are just people, too. Like kids are people.  We’re all trying to figure stuff out.”

 

“Well, it shouldn’t be hard to figure out not to call somebody  _ special needs _ ,” Fran mutters darkly.

 

“I want to burn that article,” Mariana adds.  As far as Jesus knows, she hasn’t checked her phone yet.  She asked Jesus to scope it out for her and he deleted like 7 angry texts from Stef being super immature and calling Mari out at the same time.

 

It hasn’t gone unnoticed that for all the social media traffic and texting Moms are doing, neither one of them has even tried confronting Jesus.

 

“He said, like, Moms would never do anything bad on purpose because they have a kid like me.  But that doesn’t even make sense. Plus he was like, ‘You _ are  _ different, Francesca.’  Look, he said it right there,” Fran said showing her phone.

 

“Looks like you handled yourself really well,” Dominique praises.  “You told him your feelings and you set boundaries.”

 

“He still told everybody I’m special needs.  Everybody in my class already knows about what Moms did and I showed them the statement.  But that means for sure they’re going to read about me…” she bites her lip.

 

“You’re worried,” Mariana observes.  “Why?”

 

“Because nobody at school knows!” Fran exclaims, tears in her eyes.  “But tomorrow everybody’s gonna know and have a billion questions. They might treat me different…”

 

Jesus sighs again.  Did Brandon ever give any thought to what he was doing to Fran socially by outing her disability status to the news?  Yeah, some people might know because of past articles or whatever - he knows there’s one for sure in  _ People _ from when he was still missing.  A year before he came back. Dominique mentioned it.  That could’ve outed her CP diagnosis, but most of Fran’s peers don’t read old as hell articles.  And even in the old articles, Jesus is pretty positive, no one was as rude and inconsiderate as Brandon.

 

“Yeah, they might,” Mariana agrees sadly.  “But you know what? You’re sitting at a whole table full of people who know exactly what it’s like to go back to school or just out in the world, when everybody suddenly knows something about you you don’t want them to know.”

 

“But it’s not the same,” Francesca moans.  “I’m the only one with CP at this table.”

 

“That’s very true.  And I’m really sorry we can’t relate to exactly what you’re going through.  What do you want to do?” Jesus asks, no judgement.

 

“Call Levi,” Fran admits.  “He’s closest to my age. I bet he’ll understand me better.”

 

“All right, go for it.  Walk a little ways away if you need some privacy, but stay where we can see you,” Jesus encourages.

 

Francesca gets up and starts walking toward the nature trail and trees.  Jesus angles himself so he can keep her in his eyeline.

 

“So, now that I have the adult Avoiders here...do you think we could, like, gently put some pressure on my grandma?”  Jesus asks. “She posted this pic in response to Stef tweeting about everything saying that ‘all bets are off.’ And I really hate that picture.”

 

“You know who’d be good at this?” Mariana asks.  She holds up her phone with Pearl’s info showing on screen.

 

“Definitely,” Jesus nods.  He video calls Pearl and she is totally on board with figuring out a game plan for Grandma.  

 

“I know Sharon.  I’ve plenty of experience with her.  Hey, where’s Fran?” she asks.

 

“Talking to Levi over there,” Dominique gestures.

 

\--

 

Levi’s on his way into work when his phone rings, showing Francesca’s calling.

 

“Hey.  You doing okay?” he asks turning off the car and sitting in the parking lot.

 

“No,” Fran says like she’s pouting.  “Did you see the really mean thing Brandon, my brother, posted?”

 

“I don’t think so…” Levi says.

 

He listens as Fran finds the article and reads it to him on speaker phone.  It’s easy to see she’s hurt by it. Levi can see the time edging toward the start of his shift.

 

“That doesn’t sound very nice,” Levi finally manages.

 

“It’s not,” Fran huffs.

 

“Did you just wanna tell me that, or did you need something else?” he asks gently.

 

“You kind of know about secrets, right?  Because of your trauma?” she asks softly.

 

“I guess you could say that,” Levi smiles a little, nervous.

 

“Well, I know I shouldn’t really keep secrets but this is like…  Okay, I’m going to start over. My CP is like privacy. So no one gets to know about it unless I consent.  But Brandon made it so everybody knows. And what do you do when everybody all of a sudden knows your secret?” Francesca asks, worried.

 

“Wow.  Okay. That’s a big question.  Um...I can tell you from what happened to me?  That when people found out, it meant I finally got to talk about it.  It meant I had people who helped me if I needed it.”

 

“Yeah, but that’s Avoidance, Levi. I mean, like, fifth grade.” Francesca says a little impatient.

 

“Right.  Well, you’re really good at explaining things to people.  So maybe, if you wanted, you could talk to your class about CP…”

 

“To say I’m not just a bunch of special needs like Brandon says? I don’t think they’d listen to me.  What if they already think what he thinks?” Francesca hedges.

 

“So, maybe another Avoider?  You want one of us with you?” Levi asks.  “I mean, I don’t love being on camera, so maybe not me…  But you could decide what you want the kids to know, and ask one of us to go in with you and tell the class?”

 

“Yeah, that could work.” Fran says sounding lighter.

 

“You okay now?” Levi checks.  “I gotta head into work, but I can hang out if you still need me.”

 

“And you can still call us if you need backup for Peanut Butter Cookie.  I’m not shy on video. I’ll yell at her for you.”

 

“Thanks, Fran.  Talk to you later,” Levi says.

 

“I called Brandon a peon!  And I thought of you! Because you taught me that word, not because you’re a peon!  Okay bye!” Fran insists at the last minute.

 

Levi cracks up.  “Oh, my God, I love you, Francesca.”  Then, he hangs up and glances down at his purple Avoiders bracelet.  Feels like he can do this.

 

Deep breath.

 

And Levi gets out of the car and walks toward SuperOne.

 

\--

 

“I mean, I guess we could change the statement,” Jesus ventures.  “To, like, include Grandma Sharon’s pic, too, but I kinda don’t want to do that…”

 

“Let me talk to her first,” Pearl reassures.  “I’ll get her on the phone and call you back.”

 

\--

 

“Hey, Sharon?” Pearl greets.

 

“Sure is.  Who’s this?” Sharon answers sounding sunny as always.

 

“It’s Pearl West, actually.” Pearl tells her.

 

“Well, as I live and breathe. Little Pearl West.  How are you, darlin’? I suppose you heard about this whole mess with the twins?  Stefanie says y’all are close.”

 

“Yes, I had and I’m worried…” Pearl admits.

 

“Why, sugar plum?” Sharon asks.

 

“Well, you saw the backlash Stef and Lena got for the first set of pictures, right?”

 

“Boy, did I ever!” Sharon exclaims.

 

“Well, I don’t have a Twitter, but I’ve seen images from it?  And I couldn’t help noticing that picture you posted of you and Jesus?”

 

“Isn’t it great?” Sharon gushes.  “Been waiting  _ years  _ to share that picture, let me tell you.  But patience is a virtue, as they say…”

 

“So is trustworthiness,” Pearl interjects softly.

 

Sharon falls silent.  

 

“Listen, I’m coming to you as a friend.  I don’t want to see your hilarious Twitter handle dragged through the mud.  There’s publicity on this already, and wouldn’t you rather be on the good side of the news reports?  The grandmother who realized the error of her ways and honored Jesus’s wishes?”

 

“I’ve gotten so many more followers, though, just today,” Sharon objects weakly.

 

“If people catch onto what you posted, Sharon, you’re going to wish you’d taken it down sooner.  Don’t you think Lena’s wishing the same thing right now? This whole situation could have been avoided if she’d just honored what she knew about Jesus and Mariana.”

 

“But what about Stefanie? She is my daughter…” 

 

“She is, and you’ll ultimately be helping her, too,” Pearl explains, feeling dirty.  “By getting ahead of this, you’ll be sparing Stef and Lena more cameras in their yard and news outlets calling them at work to write critical pieces about their mothering.  If anybody caught wind of your picture, can you imagine the headlines?  **_Disregard for Kids’ Wishes Runs in the Family_ ** ...” she riffs, thinking of the way Jesus was there for her just last month, convincing Carla to vacate the area by threatening her with negative media attention.  

 

Pearl can play this game.

 

“Oh God.  I’d lose all my followers?” Sharon whispers.

 

“I wouldn’t be surprised…” Pearl muses.

 

“Well, I’m going to take care of this right away.  Thanks, Pearl. You’re a peach,” Sharon says, hanging up.

 

\--

 

“Would y’all recommend responding to Brandon or just letting it be?” Dominique asks carefully.  Jesus wonders if anything has been said that he somehow missed in the deluge.

 

“Depends on what he’s doing…” Jesus ventures.  “And what you wanna do.”

 

She flashes her phone screen at Jesus.  Long enough for him to see Brandon’s accusation.  

 

“Hey guys,” Fran says, breathless.  “Which one of you wants to come to school with me tomorrow?”

 

“Hold on, we’re talking to Dominique,” Jesus hushes her.  “I mean…” he says, turning his attention back to Dominique.  “If you wanna deal with his smug ass, feel free…”

 

Francesca giggles.

 

“Yeah, I’d rather not…” Dominique mutters.

 

“Hey…” Mari says, tugging on Jesus’s sleeve and showing him his own phone screen, loaded with Grandma’s tweet.

 

“I refreshed and it said it’s unavailable,” Mariana says, raising her eyebrows.

 

Jesus looks at it, not quite believing his luck.  (He knows that picture, plus the four Lena shared are out forever now, but at least the source material for everything is gone.)

 

Just then Pearl video calls again.  “Hey. Is it gone?” 

 

“Yeah, I kinda can’t believe it…” Jesus manages.  “What did you say to her?”

 

“Let’s just say I learned from the best,” Pearl grins.  “I’ll let you guys go. Happy to do what I can.”

 

Jesus smiles, confused and says goodbye.

 

“You guys, is it my turn yet?” Francesca interjects.  “Because I’m really wondering who wants to come and tell my class that CP is normal and don’t treat me different.”

 

“Is that what Levi suggested?” Mariana asks, a small smile on her face.

 

“Yeah, but he said he’s shy on camera so he probably couldn’t,” Fran says, looking let down.

 

Jesus and Mariana exchange glances.  “I mean, I pick you up every day anyway,” Jesus shrugs.

 

“Yeah, but Stef keeps ranting about how there are news vans parked outside the house and whatever.” Mari counters.  “I wouldn’t want to bring them to school with Fran.”

 

“Ew,” Fran agrees.

 

“I’m off tomorrow.  I could do it,” Dominique volunteers.  “If that’s okay, Fran?”

 

“Yes!  Can I write you some notes for what to say?  Because if I say it no one will believe me, but you’re a grown up, so they will…”

 

“Sure,” Dominique nods, “But then we should really get the rest of your Harry Potter reading minutes in and get you and Mariana home.”

 

“Thank you for helping me,” Francesca says.  “I really wanna hug you…”

 

“What are Avoiders for?” Dominique asks, putting an arm around Fran.

 

“For life, right?” Fran asks the group.  

 

“That’s right,” Dominique smiles, squeezing her a little tighter.


	17. House on Fire

Mariana is beyond relieved that Jesus decides to go home with her and Francesca, instead of just dropping them off.  He seems to just get that his presence might discourage Moms from letting her have it, since they kind of wanna put on their best face around him.

 

It pisses Mari off - both that Jesus has to be put in that position and that it works - but at this point, she’ll take what she can get.

 

They open the door.

 

“Girls,” Stef calls, sounding tense.

 

“And guy,” Jesus calls back, easily, as Dudley lumbers into the living room.

 

“Oh, Jesus.  Lena, set another place.  Jesus is here.”

 

Dinner’s ready so they all sit down to eat.  Mari, Fran and Jesus all on one side of the table.  Moms at the ends.

 

“Jesus, so good to see you,” Lena says, taking his plate, on instinct, to fill it.

 

Fran’s hand shoots out, stopping her.  “Jesus can get his own food, Mama.”

 

“Well, okay,” Lena smiles tightly and relinquishes the plate which Jesus picks up a little warily.

 

“I mean...if it’s cool…” he ventures.

 

“Yeah.  Yeah, it’s very cool,” Stef says like she’s trying too hard.  “So, today was fun, huh?” she asks in a forced too-bright voice.

 

Mariana can hear Francesca take a breath to object and squeezes her hand under the table.  To an outsider, Stef’s comment might sound like she’s trying to make light of everything, but looking around Fran at Jesus, she knows both of them can hear the implicit threat in the words.

 

Just how much worse it could be.  Just how shaky Moms’ hold on control actually is right now.

 

“Brandon’s article was nice, huh?” Stef continues, her voice more relaxed.  More genuine.

 

Fran’s mouth falls open.  

 

(There’s no amount of hand-squeezing that can hold her off from speaking up now…  Shit.) 

 

“It wasn’t nice to  _ me _ …” she says, hurt.

 

“What do you mean?” Lena asks, and she sounds honestly confused.  “All he said in that article was how much you’re loved. How is that not nice?”

 

Fran looks to Mariana for help.  She shakes her head slightly.

 

“I don’t know.” Fran mutters, hanging her head.

 

Mariana feels terrible discouraging her from speaking her mind.  But, honestly, it’s like Moms are matches right now, and with the right friction they’re gonna ignite, and the whole damn house will burn.  Mari’s trying to minimize the friction. That’s all. She’s doing what she can to protect her sister.

 

“So, I saw Vasquez got promoted…” Jesus offers.  

 

“Yeah.  Vasquez…” Stef remarks, sarcastic.  

 

“Kinda thought you’d be glad to be rid of him.” Jesus tries again, and the thought’s there before Mariana can catch it: 

 

_ He’s had so much practice at this. _

 

“Oh, I am.  It just means more work for the rest of us, though.” Stef complains.

 

“You work hard enough,” Lena offers, sympathetic.  “The last thing you need is to be picking up anyone’s slack.”

 

\--

 

They make it through dinner.  Mariana’s surprised Jesus can eat, the stress level is so high.  But then again, maybe he’s used to it. Fran washes the dishes while Mariana’s stuck at the table working on flashcards that make her feel five years old.  

 

She hates the 40 cards with a passion.  There are categories like food, outdoors and animals.  They exhaust her.

 

“...Truck,” Mariana manages after a pause.

 

“What kind of truck?” Lena prompts, impatient.  

 

These types of condescending questions never fail to make Mariana feel wholly misunderstood. Stupid. Small. (It is clearly and obviously an obnoxious cartoon drawing of a fire truck. Her vision and recognition are not the issue here.)

 

_ I know what kind of truck.   _

 

“I don't know.” (It's a way to buy time.  So that maybe, somehow, right word can make its way out of her mouth from wherever it’s hiding.)

 

Lena flips the card.  “It says right here. What kind of truck?”

 

(This side of the card is boldly labeled  **fire truck** in large print. She can read the words even while Stef has turned the TV to a loud cooking competition show. But the fact that Lena insinuates that Mari cannot has her cheeks flaming.)

 

“I don’t know,” Mariana says.  The words are out, but they’re filler.  There would be no point to giving in and reading off the card.  Except to witness Lena’s satisfaction at cornering Mariana into abject humiliation - and Mari will not play that game.  

 

“Mariana, I don’t want to hear that excuse.  Think. You can’t just give up when it gets a little hard.  What kind of truck?”

 

“No,” Mariana insists, standing up unsteadily from her chair.  

 

_ (No, it’s not an excuse.  No, I’m not giving up. No, it’s not just  _ a little hard _.  No, I’m not doing this anymore.  No. Stop embarrassing me.) _

 

“Sit down, Mariana.  You don’t get to quit right now.  You’re going to power through this.”

 

Mariana feels hugely powerless.  Like there’s nothing she can do to stop what’s happening. Resisting isn't working. She’s felt this way before.  Had people treat her like her single job in life was to comply with whatever they said. She feels worthless and insignificant.  

 

The feeling engulfs her as she gives in.  Sits back down. Because she can see it in Lena’s eyes: 

 

“ _ Jesus is here.  Don’t make a scene.” _

 

Honestly, if Jesus wasn’t here right now?  This would be going a million times worse. Moms are always beyond intense.  This is them dialing it back.

 

“I got it,” Jesus offers easily as Lena holds out the card expectantly.  It’s like Mariana thinking of him has conjured him from the living room where he and Dudley had been talking to Stef.  He waits for Lena to stand up and then takes her place. 

 

Mariana looks at her lap.  Hopes Fran isn’t listening in.  Hopes Stef isn’t either.

 

“You know what this is, you just can’t say it?” Jesus asks softly.

 

Mariana swallows.  Nods. He has summed up her life - her anomic aphasia - perfectly.

 

\--

 

“So, fire truck,” Jesus says, tossing it aside.   

 

Another nod.

 

He drops his voice.  “But you know most of these, probably, right?”

 

“I always know what it is, Jesus….It’s just, you know...whatever...if I can actually get the word to come out,” Mariana admits quietly.

 

Jesus nods grimly.  “Should I go through ‘em and you just nod at the ones that are easier?” he asks.  “Then we can do the ones that are still tough?”

 

Mariana casts a glance at the living room, where Moms have begun to comment on the cooking show. Shakes her head no.

 

“Okay...but, like, this is obviously too many.  So, what do you feel? More like ten?” he asks, dropping his voice.

 

Mariana doesn’t respond.

 

“Five?” he asks softer.  Mariana knows it’s because Moms are legitimately in the next room.

 

She nods.  Watches him pick five at random and put the rest away.

 

“So, I don’t really know what I’m doing,” Jesus cautions.  “Just...know that I get that you know this. I get you’re smart.  I wanna help.” Jesus holds up the first flashcard.

 

“Table?” A word that’s there, finally.  Mariana feels her destroyed self-confidence rise.  Barely.

 

Jesus’s smile is all the confirmation she needs here.  “Cool. One down. You need a break?” he checks.

 

“No,” Mariana shakes her head.

 

“So, let’s try...to find the name of...this…” Jesus says, his hand lighting over the four remaining cards until he settles on one, picking it up.

 

The picture shows a lawnmower.  The old-school kind you have to stand and push.  Brandon’s least favorite (and only) job around the house.

 

“Chore,” Mariana tries and shakes her head.  

 

“Well, it is that.  You’re thinking about B bitching every month about having to do this, right?”

 

Mariana nods.  Tries to think of how on earth to get the word  _ lawnmower _ from her brain to her mouth.  The gears in her brain grind in the silence.

 

“Talk?” she asks, nodding at Jesus.  “It’s easier if you talk.”

 

“Oh.  Cool. Okay.  So B… remember the time when he was like, ‘I can’t cut the grass ‘cause I have a date.’

 

“Grass cutter,” Mariana tries.  “Damn it!”

 

“So close, though.  Need me to say it, or you wanna keep going?” Jesus asks.

 

“You can’t say it for her, Jesus.  She won’t learn anything that way,” Stef calls from the living room.

 

Mariana slumps.

 

Jesus leans toward her.  “I can totally fill it in for you.”

 

She peeks at him.  Nods. 

 

“Lawn mower,” he says, matter of fact.  Quiet, so Moms won’t overhear.

 

“She basically already said that, Jesus,” Francesca informs them, standing in the doorway of the kitchen with wet hands.  “She said grass cutter. Lawn is the same as grass. Cutter is the same as mower.”

 

“True,” Jesus nods.  

 

“Frankie, mind your business, please.  The dishes aren’t going to wash themselves.” Lena calls.

 

“You wanna come back to this one again?” Jesus asks.

 

Mariana nods.  Someone on the cooking show drops something and the noise is awful.  Jesus checks again if she needs a break, but she knows Moms are listening from the other room.  She wants it to be obvious she’s working.

 

“So, the name of this...is…” Jesus holds up a flashcard with a picture of a bright pink skirt.

 

(She feels goosebumps raise under her sweatpants.  She shivers, even though it’s not cold.)

 

“Pants,” Mariana says, knowing immediately the word  _ skirt  _ obviously took a wrong turn somewhere.

 

“You’re on the right track,” Jesus puts the card down.  It helps to not have to look at it, and feel demeaned by the childish picture.  “You wore a lot of these. Callie wasn’t a fan so much. She actually does wear pants more.”

 

“I don’t like them either!” Fran called.  “If that helps, Mari. I saw the cards when I came out before.”

 

“Thanks, Fran,” Mariana grins.  “Shorts… No…”

 

“Getting warmer, though,” Jesus encourages.  

 

“Skort.  Skirt!” Mariana says, relieved.

 

“Are skorts a thing?” Jesus asks, curious.

 

“Yes,” Mariana answers testily.  “It’s like a cross between both.”

 

“Ah,” Jesus says.  He holds up the next card.

 

Mariana smiles.  “That’s coffee.”

 

“That’s awesome,” Jesus grins back, and puts it in the pile with _ table  _ and  _ skirt.   _ “Okay.  You ready for the last one?”

 

Mariana takes a deep breath.  Nods. 

 

Jesus holds up the card.  It’s a battery. 

 

(An image rises in Mariana’s mind.  A memory? Her and Jesus watching as Ana’s pounded by some guy.  Her mouth is bloody. She spits teeth into her hand.)

 

“Hit,” Mariana says, looking into Jesus’s eyes.  (Maybe he has this memory, too?)

 

Jesus squints.  “This makes you think of hitting?” he asks.

 

“Of Ana,” she nods.

 

“Oh, like  _ assault and battery _ ?  Oh crap.  Sorry, I told you.” Jesus apologizes.

 

“Battery?” she tries again.

 

Jesus nods.  “And as a bonus,” he says picking up the lawn mower card again. “Brandon’s  _ one _ chore was done with the…”

 

“Lawn mower,” Mariana answers, the word there now.

 

“You’re on a roll,” he nods, encouraging.  “And we’re done. Let’s put these...somewhere else…” he ventures, stuffing them into their box.


	18. Are You With Me

When Francesca finishes the dishes, she bravely goes into the living room.  “Hey, so I have a thing I need to do for school tomorrow. It’ll be fast, but I need Dominique’s help on it.”

 

“I don’t want you going over there,” Mom says, not taking her eyes off the TV.

 

“But it’s for school,” Fran points out, trying to stay calm.  She pushes it. Decides to lie a little bit. “Mrs. Lawrence already said really wants me to do it.”

 

“Honey, I don’t want California Lawrence breathing down my neck…” Mama says softly to Mom.  “It’s easier to just let her do it. There and back, Frankie. No dawdling. Back here by 7:30, because you need to be in bed by 8:00.  Here, no sleeping over.”

 

“Okay.  Thank you,” Francesca adds for a good measure, even though she doesn’t feel thankful.  She feels relieved.

 

She goes to the living room where Jesus and Mariana are putting away Mari’s flashcards.  “Mama said we could go to Dominique’s if I’m back here by 7:30.”

 

Francesca waits until they’re in the car to call Dominique.  “Hi, is it okay if I come over with Mariana and Jesus? To work what to say to my class tomorrow?”

 

“Yeah, did you check with your teacher?” Dominique asks.

 

“Check what?” Fran asks, confused.

 

“Usually, when someone comes in that’s not part of the class, teachers like a heads up.”

 

“I was just thinking I could do it for Show and Tell? Do I still have to ask?” Fran wonders.

 

“I think it’d be polite.  I can help you with the email.  Do I have to stop by the office first?”

 

“To get a sticker that says Visitor, yeah, and sign in,” Fran agrees.  “You can just come with me in the morning. It’s easy.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Once they’re inside, Francesca checks her phone.  “It’s 6:05. I have until 7:25 because we need to drive back. That’s one hour and 25 minutes.”

 

“Okay,” Dominique says, smiling just a little.  

 

(Francesca probably made a math mistake, but whatever, she doesn't have time to feel bad about it.  Luckily, Dominique doesn't tease.)

 

“Well, that sounds like plenty of time.”  They sit at her costume room table and it’s almost like Avoidance.  Dudley’s hiding underneath, and it’s crowded because he doesn’t like Roberta.  

 

“What do you want to say in the email, first?  ‘Cause we should get that sent out and see what your teacher says.”

 

“I don’t know, I never email teachers,” Fran admits.  “I just want you to be able to come to my class and talk about CP with me during Show and Tell.”

 

Eventually, they have an email all set:

 

From:  francescarose@gmail.com

To:  california.lawrence@abcharterschool.org

 

_ Dear Mrs. Lawrence, _

 

_ Can my mentor, Dominique Williams, please come to class tomorrow?  It’s to help me talk about CP (my disability) during show and tell. _

 

_ Please write back soon, _

_ Francesca Adams Foster _

 

_ \-- _

 

It takes the longest ten minutes of Francesca’s life for Mrs. Lawrence to respond:

 

From:  california.lawrence@abcharterschool.org

To:  francescarose@gmail.com

 

_ Dear Francesca, _

 

_ Sounds great!   _

 

_ Mrs. Lawrence _

 

_ \-- _

 

“Wow, I didn’t think she would let me do that,” Fran admits.  “I thought she might be like no.”

 

“So, Show and Tell is right away?” Dominique wonders.

 

“Basically.  It’s in the morning, right after we find out what’s for lunch.” Fran tells her.

 

Mariana whispers to Jesus and he tells Dominique they’re going to be at his apartment.  That he’ll come and knock at 7:20, if he doesn’t hear from her before then.

 

“So what do you wanna say, babe?”

 

\--

 

“So, is it always like that?  With your therapy and stuff?” Jesus asks Mariana once they’re in his apartment.

 

“Worse, usually.  Lena didn’t want to...you know...around you.” Mariana admits.

 

“That sucks,” Jesus breathes.

 

“Yeah, they never listen to me.  But what else is new? No one ever listens to me…” Mariana ventures.

 

“What’s that mean?” Jesus asks, sitting down on the futon near her.

 

“Nothing just…  Doesn’t it ever get to you?  Like when they don’t listen?”

 

“Definitely,” Jesus nods.

 

“Me, too,” she agrees.  “So, you talk. I don’t wanna talk about Moms.”

 

“Well, Fran’s not the only one getting emails…” Jesus shares cryptically, showing Mariana his phone.

 

\--

 

Amanda Thomas is positive she’s not going to be able to sleep through the night now that those pictures have been released.  She hasn’t been able to stop staring at the one showing Jesus’s raw wrist. Hasn’t been able to shake the memory of those same types of scars on the little boy who came into her office with a floor hockey injury over ten years ago.

 

He’d sat in her office, ice wrapped in institutional brown paper toweling, blood pouring from the gash in his chin, insisting it didn’t even hurt.  Asking why he couldn’t just go back to class.

 

She remembered how none of the shirts in the bin for spares came close to fitting him.  The closest was a baggy faded yellow tee shirt that would hang off a kid like this. A kid with no meat on his bones.

 

_ “Why do I have to change my shirt?” Josh had asked (because he’d been Josh then).  _

 

_ “Because people’s blood has germs in it sometimes.  It’s safer for everybody if we keep blood cleaned up and don’t touch it with our bare hands.” _

 

_ “What happens if you touch it?” Josh’s voice asked from behind the door.  “Like, could you die?” He’d opened the door then. Brown eyes curious. Brown hair disheveled, hanging in his face. _

 

_ Not in the mood to discuss potentially fatal STDs with a nine year old, Amanda had asked him to look up so she could inspect his chin.  “You probably won’t need stitches, but… Whoa…” _

 

_ Her composure had slipped - her professional demeanor - and suddenly she was just a young, 20-something face to face with something way more intense than a split chin. _

 

_ She hadn’t been able to see this beneath the long sleeved striped shirt he came in with.  But now… The scars on both wrists… God… _

 

_ “What happened here?” she’d asked, not daring to touch the angry marks. _

 

She should have pushed harder is what should’ve happened.  Instead she’d had this kid in her office who seemed impervious to the pain of a gushing chin wound.  A child with painful as hell looking scars. Who spun her a story about being recently adopted and recently mistreated by other parents.

 

God, it’s so obvious now.  What can she do? How can she make it right?

 

A sudden thought jolts through her, and she opens her bedside table drawer.  At the very back she feels it, still there.

 

_ She’d come into her office the next day and slipped, almost face-planting on the small white envelope.  Safely in a chair, she’d shaken out a wallet sized school picture. She’d seen Josh Mitchell’s pale face.  Wide brown eyes stared into the camera. Big smile that seemed somehow out of place. _

 

_ Flipping it over, Amanda read the brief message: _

 

I got retakes.

 

Should she have read something into that?  Was he trying to tell her something? She aims her camera at the picture.  Clicks. 

 

Because there’s only one place this picture belongs.

 

\--

 

From:  amandathomas86@hotmail.com

To:  ItsHeyZeus@gmail.com

 

_ Subject: Giving this back _

 

_ Jesus,  _

 

_ I don’t want to bother you, I just wasn’t sure how many pictures you were able to keep from when you went to Ocean Park.  You may not want any, and totally understandable if not. But if you do, I had this one, and I figure it was about time to give it back to you.  It’s attached and I’m tossing my copy so you don’t have to worry about it getting out there. _

 

_ School Nurse Amanda Thomas _

 

_ \-- _

 

“Whoa...when was this?  Fourth grade?” Mariana asks.

 

“Yeah, sometime,” Jesus nods.  “Just based on the time the nurse and I crossed paths.  I wouldn’t actually know otherwise.”

 

“You look so different,” Mariana breathes, sympathetic.  “Like, scared. Pale. Your hair’s so long.”

 

“Started school again in November, so it’s sometime after that…” Jesus ventures.  “And, yeah, it got way longer than that…” Jesus bristles.

 

“Do you want it?” Mariana asks, gesturing to the picture.

 

“Not really?  But I also can’t really bring myself to throw it out?” he admits.

 

Mariana leans against him, their arms bumping.  There was a time they couldn’t do this. Still are times when she knows she should ask instead of just going ahead.  But he leans into her, too.

 

“They’re all reaching out…” Jesus muses.  “And it’s nice as hell...but it’s also...like…”

 

“Too late,” Mariana murmurs.  

 

Jesus nods.  “We should go get Francesca.  It’s probably time soon.”

 

“I wish you could stay…” Mariana says.

 

“Where?  In Mom’s office?” Jesus comments bitterly.  (They still call it his room, but it hasn’t been for years.  There’s a door on it, a desk and an office chair and a TV inside.  No posters on the wall. No beads. No sign Jesus was even there at all.)

 

“Well, then, that we could stay here,” Mariana amends.

 

“But it’ll be worse if you guys go against them,” Jesus says knowingly.  “So I’ll walk you guys in, all the way to your room so hopefully they won’t bug you.”

 

“Okay,” Mariana breathes, wiping her eyes.

 

“Hey.  You okay?  Why are you crying?  I mean, you totally have reasons to...but just…” he gestures vaguely, concerned.

 

“Just, life…” Mariana forces a laugh.

 

“Yeah.  I know,” Jesus agrees.  “It’s been a hell of a life.”

 


	19. Brave

After Jesus takes Mariana and Fran back home, he stops by Dominique’s apartment and knocks, saying, “It’s Jesus.”

 

Dominique opens the door.  

 

“Hey.  Can you talk?” he asks.

 

Dominique glances around.  It’s taken a while to build up her trust with Jesus in her apartment.  It used to be she couldn’t tolerate him in her space at all. Now, she’s usually fine with him as long as there are more women present, and they aren’t one on one.

 

“And?” she presses.

 

“And nothing.  Just talk. I got former missing kid trauma stuff.  And there’s not really anybody else in my life who gets that the way you do.”

 

Dominique takes a deep breath.  Tries to stay calm about this. Rational.  She thinks about getting Lena or even Val, but Jesus probably wants privacy.  And privacy doesn’t really sit well with her.

 

“Not really comfortable one on one with you in my space yet…” she admits, while Jesus is still in the hall.

 

“What if we see if your Lena can come?” Jesus asks honestly.

 

“You wouldn’t mind?” Dominique asks, suspicious.  “I kinda thought you wouldn’t want any extra people listening in…”

 

“Lena’s not extra,” Jesus reassures.  “If you wanna call down there, or see where she’s at, I can wait at my place?  You come knock when you’re set?”

 

It takes a few minutes to locate Lena, who’s helping another resident out.  Once she’s finished, she and Dominique ride the elevator up to the third floor again.  

 

Turns out she can’t bring herself to knock on Jesus’s door, so she goes into her own apartment and gives him a call.

 

He shows up, Dudley at his side.  “Hey, Lena,” he greets. “Thanks, Dominique, for letting me come.”

 

“Yeah,” Dominique answers.  

 

She and Lena settle on the living room couch and Jesus grabs a folding chair and turns it around across from them.

 

“So, first, I wanted you to know how much I appreciate what you and your parents said today on social media.  That meant a lot, having all of you in our corner. And thanks for jumping in with my teacher, when she talked about how bad of a kid I was.”

 

“Well, she needed to be told,” Dominique maintains.

 

“Anyway, that’s kinda what I need to process?  And I get that it’s a sensitive subject. I know our experiences were different.”

 

“You can just say it,” Dominique encourages.  “Whatever it is? I ain’t gonna break,” she grins sidelong at Lena.  “And if I do, Lena’s here to help put me back together.”

 

Jesus’s mouth drops open.

 

“I’m kidding, Jesus,” Dominique reassures him.

 

“Oh.  Okay. Well.  The thing is? I heard from, like, three of my former teachers today?  One reached out directly on Twitter. But there was also the school nurse.  She emailed me…”

 

“To say what?” Dominique asks, thinking about Jesus’s trash fourth grade teacher.

 

“Had an old picture of me that I’d given her, I guess?  Said she wanted to give it back…”

 

“Damn…” Dominique breathes.

 

“I know,” he nods.

 

They’re quiet a while.  Dominique literally can’t think of anything to say.  For some reason, though, talking about this? Has her remembering back when they were at the cabin.  Her and Jesus, sitting outside, and Pearl’s mom just walking up and recognizing Jesus like she had. Saying his name that.

 

She’s never talked to him about the feelings that stirred up.  Maybe, never will. Because some things just don’t need to be discussed.  Suffice it to say that it’s a unique experience to be so noticeable, and so invisible at the same time as she had been.

 

The only people who ever saw her looked at her with disgust.  Like it was her choice to be abducted by a woman she’d thought was her friend, stashed in a van by a strange man, and forced into The Life.  They looked at her like it was her fault. Like she was dirty. They also pretended they didn’t see her at all. The regular people just out living their lives.  Turned their heads away from her. Pulled their kids with them faster.

 

And after?   

 

Well, it’s been ten years and no one’s recognized her.  It could be the burns, but Dominique also knows you gotta care to recognize somebody.  Even when they’re hurt. The only person who had ever looked twice - saw she was in trouble -  was Roberta. The elderly woman who had let Dominique use her phone in a public bathroom to dial 911.

 

“Dominique?” Jesus asks.

 

“Jesus?” she returns.  “You wanna say something else?”

 

“Just...what do I say, I guess?  What would you do?” he wonders.

 

“Who says you have to say anything?” Dominique challenges gently.  

 

“Can’t help feeling like the expectation is for me to be grateful?  To tell her thank you or something? But that feels…” he shudders.

 

“She gave you back something that already belonged to you.  That’s decency not debt.” Dominique points out.

 

Jesus looks at her ceiling.  “I don’t know if you can see this, but I have a scar on my chin?”

 

“Yeah, I see it…” Dominique nods.

 

“So, like three months after I started back to school in LA, I got sent to the nurse’s office when some kid split my chin open with a floor hockey stick.  She had me change my shirt and it was short sleeved. She could see…” Here, Jesus gestures to his wrists, where he wears several bracelets to cover scars from chains there.

 

“Oh, shit,” Dominique manages.

 

“Yeah, so I did the thing and lied my ass off.  It was either that or have Him find out I told, and, like…”

 

“You had to lie. But she didn’t have to believe it, Jesus.  You were, what, nine? With scars like that?”

 

“Yeah…” he admits.  “I don’t remember giving her the picture at all.  But I wonder if it wasn’t… You know? So in case she saw my picture on TV, she’d have something to compare it to.  She sent a shot of the back, too and I wrote that I got retakes.”

 

“Trying to get your face out there however you could.  Makes sense,” Dominique nods.

 

“Are you cool with this?” he asks suddenly.

 

“No…  I’m not cool with any of it,” Dominique admits, because who’s cool with hearing how an adult noticed an abducted child’s injuries and bought the lie he was forced to tell?  “But I’ll listen, Jesus. I’ll always listen.”

 

“Alright,” Lena interjects suddenly.  “Well, tomorrow’s coming fast. So probably time to call it a night.”

 

Dominique blinks, realizing stuff started to blur without her even realizing.  Luckily, Lena’s watching out for her.

 

“Right.  Yeah. Fran’s excited for tomorrow,” Jesus adds on his way out the door.

 

“I’ll be there to pick her up,” Dominique promises.

 

“I told Moms, so they won’t hassle you,” Jesus reassures, closing the door behind himself and Dudley.

 

Once they’re alone, Lena turns on the Stage & Screen music channel on TV and leaves a bottle of water and a blanket nearby.  Then, she goes to hang out in the costume room to give Dominique a little breathing space.

 

Roberta - who’s never cared about giving Dominique space - jumps into her lap, nuzzling and purring.

 

“You like this music?” Dominique asks softly.  

 

Roberta mews softly.

 

“We gotta get some sleep tonight, if I’m gonna be there for Francesca.  You gonna help me?”

 

Roberta’s eyes are closed already.

 

Dominique tries to steady her breathing and looks over her notes for what she’s gonna tell Fran’s class.  She clicks around some more websites by adults with CP so she’s sure she’s got her facts straight. She pays attention to how they write about it.  Like facts of their life. Difficulties others don’t consider. And also advantages they have borne from a lifetime of adapting.

 

The fact finding works, and Dominique starts nodding off.  She stops in the bathroom to do her lotioning and then goes to her room, climbing up into her bed to sleep.  Her feet comfortable in slipper socks - an adaptation she’d made when her sheets got dirty and ripped too fast from Dominique sleeping in her shoes.  She has them at the ready, at the foot of her ladder.

 

“Night, Lena,” Dominique calls.  “Thanks.”

 

“You good?” Lena calls.

 

“Got a thing tomorrow morning, so I’ll be out early,” she says.

 

“Sounds good,” Lena answers.

 

Dominique listens for the lock to click behind Lena.  Then falls into a fitful sleep.

 

\--

 

Francesca can barely sleep the night before Dominique comes to school with her.  Jesus had walked her and Mari to their room last night and told Moms on his way out that Dominique was going to pick up Fran in the morning and take her to school for the thing so they didn’t have to worry about it.

 

(They’re still so mad about the news knowing about those pictures that they don’t even ask questions.)

 

She’s up at 6:00 because she can’t sleep later than that.  She spends a long time looking at her clothes. She finally settles on her teal shirt from Grams that says  _ And Though She Be But Little, She Is Fierce.   _ (Fran hopes it will give her courage.)  She chooses grey leggings to go with it.  Makes sure her hair still looks acceptable.  Reads her green Avoiders bracelet and breathes.

 

She can’t eat breakfast.  She’s too nervous. And she’s out waiting on the porch for Dominique when she shows up at 7:30.  No one else is even awake yet.

 

\--

 

Dominique is surprised to see Fran waiting on the steps for her.  She’d arrived a little early just in case they needed extra time. Come to find out, Francesca’s so nervous she hasn’t even been able to eat breakfast.

 

“Listen, I’m prepared, I promise you.  I got you,” Dominique says wanting to build Fran up.

 

“But my mortal enemy is in my class.  He has been since kindergarten. No offense to your dad, but his name is Michael and he’s super rude!  He’s gonna ask rude questions, and I’m not gonna know what to say. Wait, what are you doing?” Fran asks, confused as Dominique makes the short drive and pulls into the Coffee Corner parking lot.

 

“We’ve got this, Francesca.  We already know what we’re gonna do about questions.  Come in with me and get some breakfast. We have all this extra time.”

 

“I can’t eat…” Fran insists nervously, twisting her hands in her lap.

 

“Babe, look at me,” Dominique insists, projecting a practiced and professional confidence.  “If Michael tries anything? Makes kids laugh? Asks something awful? I’m gonna handle him.”

 

“You’re gonna beat him up?” Fran gapes, impressed.

 

“No,” Dominique laughs.  “He’s a kid. That’s wrong.  I just mean, he’s gonna learn he can’t get away with nonsense like that.  Now, please come inside with me, so we can get some frozen hot chocolate.”

 

Dominique can tell that the frozen hot chocolate, and giant slab of brownie they split have put Francesca in a better mood, as much as the promise that her peers won’t get away with teasing her.

 

“This is the best breakfast ever!” she says, sending Polos to all of the Avoiders so they can see it, too.

 

At Anchor Beach, Dominique stops by the front office for a Visitor sticker and to sign in.  She feels every inch her age, surrounded by tiny kids. She doesn’t much mind their staring as much as the adults who look and pretend not to be.  (She’s most nervous to run into Francesca’s mom, Lena, but Fran assures her that they won’t.)

 

They get to Fran’s class and Dominique shakes hands with Mrs. Lawrence.  “Hi, I’m Dominique Williams, it’s nice to meet you.” She tries to breathe and hopes that Fran’s teacher can manage to shake her hand without making it weird.

 

“Dominique, hi.  I’m California Lawrence.  Francesca’s teacher. We’re so glad to have you here,” she says, shaking Dominique’s hand easily.  “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” she whispers belatedly and Dominique’s not sure whether to laugh or crawl under a desk.  

 

“No,” she reassures, smiling hard for the teacher’s comfort.

 

“Well, feel free to pull up a chair next to Francesca and we’ll get started in a few minutes.

 

Dominique splits her attention between studying her notes and sending encouraging smiles to Francesca, who fidgets in her seat and whispers she has to pee.

 

Dominique nods at the bathroom pass.  Fran raises her hand and asks for it - whispers to Dom to please wait ‘til she’s back to start.

 

Instead of answering, Dominique bumps her yellow Avoider’s bracelet against Fran’s green one.  “Accommodations, babe. We always wait for each other.”

 

Dominique watches the door and Fran gets back just in the nick of time.

 

“We have a guest here with us today.  Francesca has brought her mentor, Ms. Williams here to tell you all about something very special.  Take it away, you two.”

 

Dominique takes the time to drag two chairs up, so she and Fran can sit side by side in front of the class.  

 

“Hi.  My name is Dominique.  And what we have to share with you actually  _ isn’t  _ that special.  It’s pretty normal, right, Francesca?” she asks, winking conspiratorially at Fran.

 

“Yeah,” Francesca answers shyly.

 

“You still want me to tell them?” Dominique checks in.

 

Fran nods mutely.  Her hand is like ice in Dominique’s own.

 

“Francesca wanted me to come in and share with you guys that she has a disability,” Dominique begins.

 

“We already know.  She’s special needs,” Michael Smith (according to the nametag on his desk) interjects.  “There was a whole article about it. So, there’s really no point to you guys telling us.”

 

“Michael, please listen respectfully, or you’re going to be asked to sit in the hall.  That’s your warning,” California Lawrence says, and Dominique’s impressed.

 

“I think there _ is _ a point to us telling you.  Because often, the news gives one perspective.  Did you notice that that article talked an awful lot about Francesca, but no one talked  _ to _ her?”

 

“So, she’s special needs, so what?” Alex Browne asks.  “Everybody has something different about them.”

 

“I don’t like that word,” Fran mutters softly, studying her shirt.

 

“You don’t like it?”  Dominique asks, and wonders if a conversation isn’t a better way to handle this.  “You wanna tell them why?”

 

“Because I’m not just a pile of special needs...I’m a human being.” Francesca continues softly.

 

“Right, so saying that about Francesca hurts her feelings.  It makes her feel like she’s not a human, which is a very dangerous feeling.  We should want everybody to feel human all the time. What do you want people to say instead?” Dominique asks Francesca.

 

“That I have CP?” Francesca asks.

 

“You want to tell them anything about CP, or do you want me to?” Dominique asks.

 

“You can,” Francesca nods.

 

“We read a book about that!” Imani Jackson comments, excited.  “But Francesca, you can talk and everything. You’re in a regular class.  How can you have CP?”

 

Fran looks to Dominique for help.  

 

“Cerebral Palsy is a little bit like eye color.  Just like how there’s not just one color your eyes can be?  There’s not one way CP can be. Some people have it so it’s more involved, like the character in the book.  So, they might need a wheelchair and another way to communicate besides talking. But some other people who have it have it so it just impacts one side of their body.”

 

“My right side,” Francesca adds, a little more comfortable now.  

 

Dominique smiles at her.  “Right. Francesca, your CP affects your right side.  So your right arm, your hand, your leg, your foot…”

 

“My smile…” Fran says, smiling a little.

 

“The right side of your smile, right.  All those areas? The muscles are getting too many messages from your brain.  So they can get really tight, right? You wanna say anything about what that does?”

 

“Makes it hard to go fast,” Francesca admits.

 

“So, if you guys,” Dominique looks at the class.  “Couldn’t go fast, what would you want?”

 

“A jet pack!” Shane Kelly interjects.

 

“A jet pack would be so good,” Francesca smiles wide.

 

“Well, until Fran and Shane invent the jet pack for fifth graders, what kind of everyday things would you want from your friends?” Dominique encourages.

 

“Wait for me?” Kimani Jackson volunteers.  Fran smiles.

 

“Be patient,” Isabella Gonzalez adds.

 

“Yes, those are great suggestions,” Dominique praises.  “And Francesca and I wanted to make sure you knew that helping out somebody with a disability doesn’t mean you get a magical forcefield around you.  Your bad choices are still your choices even if you help Francesca. She’s not a Get Out of Jail Free card.”

 

“What do you mean?” Kimani asks.

 

“Sometimes people, like, hang out with me just to say they did it?  For, like, proof that they’re extra good. In kindergarten, Shane, remember how your mom made you a cake for playing with me?”

 

“I was kinda embarrassed she did that, but not sure why…” Shane ventures.

 

“Would it feel good for somebody in class to get a reward for playing with you, just because you’re you?  Like, “Oh, you’re such a nice person, you even played with  _ Shane _ …  ‘Cause what’s that saying to Shane?  Can anyone tell?” Dominique asks, curious.

 

Francesca raises her hand:  “It’s saying nobody really likes him, they’re just being nice because they feel like they have to be.  That doesn’t feel good.”

 

“Right,” Dominique nods.

 

“I want real friends, guys.  Not ones who just feel bad for me,” Fran points out, obviously feeling braver.

 

They talk more about some things Fran suggested last night.  How she might need a hand on steps if there’s no railing. Or figuring out which way to go.  That sometimes she jumps and what to do if that happens. The majority of the class seems receptive.

 

“Wait so...what’s wrong with  _ you _ ?” Michael asks boldly, staring at Dominique.

 

“That’s private,” Francesca informs.  “So is my disability. Asking about it is rude when you just meet somebody.  Telling people without asking somebody if you can is rude too…” 

 

“What?  I’m just  _ asking _ …” he says, indignant.

 

“Okay!” California claps her hands.  “I think that’s all the time we have, and Michael, I want you to see me after Show and Tell.”

 

Dominique waits for the “Oooh,” to die down before she responds.

 

“And  _ we’re _ saying you don’t get to just know private information because you’re curious,” Dominique maintains.  “You’re all old enough to learn that. It’s like somebody asking about the worst, most scary day in your life, by saying  _ what’s wrong with you _ ?”

 

Michael, at least, has the sense to be embarrassed.  He blushes and sinks lower in his seat.

 

A petite little girl named Ava Allen raises her hand, and waits until Dominique nods at her.  “What should we do, then? If we have a question about stuff like that?”

 

“That’s a great question.  And I think keep it to yourself?  What do you think, Francesca?”

 

“Yeah, keep it to yourself,” Francesca admits.  “Or wait ‘til we bring it up and then just listen.”

 

“Good answer,” Dominique praises.  “No one ever died from being curious.  It’s a good opportunity to work on self control.”

 

“Thank you for coming, Dominique.  Very informative,” Mrs. Lawrence praises.

 

“Thanks for having me,” she responds.  “You good here?” she asks, turning to Francesca.

 

“I think.  Thank you for being here,” Fran says, walking with Dominique to the hallway.  She waits for the door to close and then asks if she can give Dom a hug.

 

“You sure can,” Dominique bends down, embracing her.  “I’m so proud of you. You were so brave.”

 

“Thanks,” Francesca blushes.  “I learned it from you.”


	20. Find A Place

Dominique’s on her way out of Anchor Beach when she feels eyes on her.  Can just make out the suit and tie and the white dude adjusting it. 

 

And, really, that would have been enough.  But having just come from Fran’s class - a class full of 10 and 11-year-olds that does it.  It’s hearing little Michael Smith ask derisively “What’s wrong with  _ you _ ?” that does it.

 

It’s normal for her, being stared at.  But this feels different. She feels his eyes follow her as she moves.  Stay on her as she signs out. And as terrified as she is to be in here with him?  She’s more terrified to risk going out to the parking lot and get shoved in somebody’s car.

 

Dominique breathes and wishes to God she’d come to school in costume.  But it’s something she hasn’t needed to do as much lately. She’d thought she’d be safe in a school full of kids.  Knowing the principal’s a woman. But she’d overlooked the obvious: there are male teachers. So she’s stuck feeling exposed in a grey three-quarter length sleeve button down top with black dress pants.  

 

Everything feels too small.  Her head feels hot as hell under her wig.  But her hands are freezing like Fran’s had been earlier.

 

Regardless, Dominique gets the mask in place fast.  She’s good. She’s calm. She’s unflappable, damn it.  She fumbles for her phone, leaning into the calm that only comes when she is well and truly terrified.  She can’t even cut her eyes over to see if the dude is still staring.

 

She scrolls through her contacts a few times, trying to figure out who to call.  The obvious choice would be Mom, but she’s got an actual day off today and if Dominique knows anything?  It’s that whenever she calls, Mom’s gonna answer. And she needs sleep.

 

Fran’s not an option, obviously.  Neither are Levi or Jesus right now, and Dominique knows Mariana and Jesus are together.  

 

That leaves Pearl.  It’s just after 11:00 AM in Minnesota right now.  Not too early. (Besides, Dominique knows for a fact that Pearl and Cleo wake up at the crack of dawn.)  

 

Dominique doesn’t want it to be obvious, what she’s doing.  So video chat is out. She wills herself not to do anything that draws attention, like dropping her phone, and just barely manages to click Pearl’s name in her contacts.

 

“Hey!  Dominique!  How are you?” Pearl asks, sounding warm, and honestly happy to hear from her.

 

“Oh, just leaving Fran’s school,” Dominique says back, her voice forced and bright.

 

“Why do you sound so happy?  Are you okay?” Pearl asks, concerned.

 

“No, I’m not, actually.  But thanks for asking,” Dominique answers, still desperately clinging to the put-together exterior.

 

“You’re trying to leave Fran’s school...is somebody stopping you?” Pearl guesses.

 

“Not...exactly…” Dominique pretends to root through her purse for keys even though she knows where they are.

 

“Somebody triggered you?  Seriously, I recognize this freaked out happy tone from when you asked us to come get you from SuperOne.  Is this like that?” Pearl ventures.

 

“Bingo,” Dominique says lightly, pulling out her keys.

 

“Dominique, if you need a ride?  Your mom is much closer than I am,” Pearl says gently.

 

“I don’t wanna bother her.  It’s her day off. I’ll be fine, it’s just a pain you know?” Dominique says easily.

 

“What is?” Pearl asks softly, sounding like she’s totally focused on Dominique.

 

“Everything’s so up in the air.  I mean, there’s really no way to know if anybody has a plan...or not...or what…”

 

“You’re still inside the school, right?” Pearl asks.  “You haven’t left?”

 

“Definitely not,” Dominique actually laughs here.  She wonders if she sounds as unhinged as she feels.

 

“You’re worried about walking to your car?” Pearl asks.

 

“Yeah, that’s one way to put it,” Dominique sighs, like she’s just a little wistful, not slowly losing her shit.

 

“Okay, I’m going to video you.  That way, when you’re walking, you can trust that somebody can see behind you.  I mean, if you want? Do you?”

 

“I mean, that’s  _ one _ option, I just...you know...I don’t feel totally comfortable with it yet.  Listen, I gotta go.” Dominique says. (This has gone on too long.)

 

“Dominique?  It is going to be okay.  Okay? I promise you. Do you have your Avoiders bracelet?”

 

Dominique checks her wrist.  Sees the flash of yellow there, so out of place.  “Yes,” she answers, her voice shaking a little.

 

“Okay.  I have mine, too.  That means we are with each other.  Can you tell me what you’re afraid of?  However you can?”

 

“Men looking.  Talking to me. Grabbing me, maybe…  One was looking at me already…” Dominique whispers in a rush, head down.

 

“If I call you on video, you can just look at me, okay?  If anybody tries to talk to you or says anything? All you do is point me, so I can tell them off.”

 

Dominique nods, knowing Pearl can’t hear it, and hangs up.  She gets her on Facebook video chat, forcing herself to smile.

 

“Alright, so…” Pearl begins like she had been in the middle of a story.  “The thing about people, that I’m learning...slowly...is that sometimes they come through for each other.  Like now, for example. You still with me?”

 

Dominique knows Pearl’s just seen her eyes dart.  No one’s out here, but it doesn’t stop her from feeling watched.

 

“Yup,” Dominique smiles.  “So, some little shit in Fran’s class did the thing today?”

 

“You were there to help her talk to them about her disability, right?” Pearl asks.

 

“Yeah, and  _ so _ …” Dominique unlocks her car and gets in.  “Will you stay on with me while I drive back?”

 

“Are you gonna be  _ okay _ to drive back?” Pearl presses.  “I mean, you could call your person.  Your apartment person, right? Jesus has one of those.”

 

“If you don’t wanna talk, that’s fine,” Dominique says, breathing through the sting of Pearl dodging her question.

 

“I do wanna talk to you, but I’m concerned.  Do you think it’s safe?” Pearl asks.

 

“I’m saying I’d feel a hell of a lot safer if I talked to you!” Dominique snaps.  “I’m sorry. It’s just… I’m really triggered and I just need to get home and I don’t feel safe being driven by anybody right now.  …Please don’t make me beg…”

 

“I won’t.  Listen. I will stay on with you.  Of course. So, you were saying? The little shit?” Pearl prompts as Dominique starts the car.

 

“Yeah, we’re wrapping up and he goes - to me - ‘So what’s wrong with  _ you _ ?’”

 

Pearl wrinkles her nose.  “Seriously?! I hate that.  I always get. ‘ _ Well, no service dogs are pugs.  Are you sure she’s a real service dog?  What do you need her for _ ?”

 

“Told him nobody ever died from being curious and to keep his questions to his damn self.  Not like that, but…” Dominique pauses at a light. “Fran actually did jump in and tell him it was a private question.”

 

“Good for her!” Pearl congratulates.  “So other than that, do you feel it went okay?”

 

“I hope so,” Dominique nods, pulling up in front of Gateway.  “Anyway, I’m gonna see if Lena - my apartment person,” she adds with a grin - “can come and meet me.  But thanks. For being here.”

 

“Anytime,” Pearl reassures.

 

\--

 

After Dominique leaves, Francesca feels really alone.  For a few minutes, she hadn’t been the only one with a disability.  Now, she is again. For a while, she can keep busy with Reading and Language and Science and stuff.  But when it’s lunch and recess? Mrs. Lawrence asks her to stay for a minute. 

 

“I just wanted to say, it’s really brave of you to talk to the class today.  You did really well.”

 

“Thanks,” Francesca smiles a little.

 

“And if you had anything you wanted to talk about with me, you’re welcome to do that.  About CP...or anything else going on you might want to talk to me about. I know your family has a lot going on right now…”

 

“Yeah,” Francesca answers and it feels awkward.  Like, does Mrs. Lawrence just expect her to start talking about stuff right now?

 

“So what did you think about the book we read earlier this year?   Out of My Mind ?  I’m surprised you didn’t have more to say about it.”

 

(Francesca didn’t have more to say about it because it made her feel gross about herself.  A girl that has so much CP that everybody calls her the R-word a bunch of times? Where they tell her she’s a burden?  Where she hates her wheelchair? Fran didn’t have anything to say about that.)

 

“Yeah…I couldn’t really relate to her.” Fran admits.

 

“What do you mean?” Mrs. Lawrence asks, like she’s really confused.  “You have the same disability.”

 

“But it’s not written by somebody with CP.  I checked. And it’s also kinda obvious the way she talks about disabled kids…”

 

“Really?  I thought it was very realistic.  Maybe you could recommend some better books.  Where the author is like you.”

 

Fran feels her face flush.  “I don’t really know any…” 

 

“Maybe you ought to write one, then.” Mrs. Lawrence says, and all Fran feels is like, tons of pressure building up on her.  Who even said she wanted to be a writer anyway?

 

“Well, I gotta go to lunch.” Fran says, trying to hurry out the door.

 

She goes to the cafeteria, (because only the kids in 7th-12th get open lunch) and sits at the table for Mrs. Lawrence’s class.  Right by Kimani Jackson and Beyonce Bryant. 

 

“I liked your Show and Tell,” Beyonce shares quietly.  She’s probably the shyest girl in class, and one of the shortest, but definitely the smartest.  “Your mentor...I wish I had a mentor.”

 

“Yeah, she’s cool,” Fran nods.

 

Jayden Wilson, who is as tall as a 7th grader, gets up from the table and the bench tips back.  Fran startles, and Kimani puts a hand out behind her.

 

“CP?” she asks.  

 

“CP,” Fran nods and doesn’t even feel weird about it.

 

“My mom says it’s sad when people have disabilities,” Jacob Bautista, a soft-spoken boy tells Fran from down the table.  “It kind of is, isn’t it? I mean, you can’t run like us.”

 

“Who says I wanna run like you?” Fran answers, indignant.  She kinda feels bad because Jacob’s normally a nice person.  But what he said doesn’t feel nice now.

 

“My dad says special needs people are a drain on the government.  He says they should bring back the old way and put them in all in a hospital,” Michael speaks up.

 

The whole table falls silent.

 

“You know, gathering up a group of people based on something about them and making them be in one specific place?  That’s discrimination,” Imani Jackson points out. (Imani and Kimani have the same last name as each other but aren’t related.)

 

That shuts Michael up.

 

At least, until recess.

 

That’s when he comes up to her on the playground later and bumps her shoulder, making her lose her balance on purpose.  

 

“Hey!” she says, catching herself on Isabella, who stays perfectly still for her.

 

Isabella is the only girl in fifth grade who shaved all her hair off because it’s too hot.  She’s cool, and she protects people, which makes her cooler.

 

“Back off, Michael!” Isabella yells, blocking Francesca.

 

“Well, her stupid, ugly mentor got me in trouble!” he exclaims, his face all red.

 

“Dominique’s not stupid or ugly,  _ you are _ !” Fran yells in her loudest voice.

 

Unfortunately, it’s loud enough for one of the playground aides to hear, and she pulls Fran aside, and makes her and Michael both stand by the wall of the school, like bad kids.  Fran’s leg wants to give out and she has to keep moving to stay up.

 

“Stay by the wall,” the aide warns.

 

Fran doesn’t say she’s trying to.  It wouldn’t do any good. They have to wait ‘til everybody lines up and goes inside. By then, Fran’s leg is super tired, even though she adapted to leaning on the wall.

 

“Okay, you can go,” the aide finally releases them.  Fran lunges forward a little, trying to get herself going, but she does it too much, and she’s about to fall.  She grabs whatever’s closest:

 

Michael!

 

(Oh no!)

 

“Hey!” he exclaims, sweeping one arm back.  “Get off! Did you see that, Teacher? She’s trying to attack me!”

 

This time she really does fall.  Hard.

 

Francesca’s trying to get up from the black top.  Her knee is bleeding through her leggings. But before she even knows what’s happening, the aide is walking her to Mama’s office.

 

“Excuse me, Principal Adams Foster?  One of yours needs to be spoken to about name-calling and keeping her hands to herself.  

 

Francesca ducks her head.

 

“Well?” Mama asks crossing her arms.  “What do you have to say for yourself?”

 

“He was name-calling first,” Francesca pouts.  “And I didn’t try to attack him, I just lost my balance…” 

 

“Francesca, Mom and I don’t have time for this.  Do you know that when kids bully other kids, verbally, or otherwise, I have to suspend them?”

 

Biting her lip hard to keep from crying, Francesca studies her bracelet.  Thinks hard about the Avoiders. Maybe there’s Avoider mind power and one of them will know she’s in trouble.

 

“Mom and I can’t take time off work to watch you, so since this is your first offense, I’m giving you detention.  You stay after school. One hour, the rest of the week.”

 

Francesca’s so embarrassed when Mama writes her out detention slips.

 

“We’ll talk about this more at home.  Go back to class, please.” Mama says.

 

Her whole leg stiff, Fran gets up and makes her way out the door.  She doesn’t text any Avoiders. She doesn’t want them to know she got detention and be disappointed in her.


	21. Reflection

Fran has her first detention that same day for one hour after school. That means she won’t even be able to leave school until 4:15.  She uses the twelve minutes between school letting out and detention starting to text Jesus and Mariana, finally. (She has to use her detention slip to even know how to spell the word right.)

 

_ Got detention Wed - Fri after school until 4:15.  I am sorry. Mama knows and will pick me up. I am okay other then feeling like a terrible person :(  I don’t want to disapoint you. Pls don’t tell other Avoiders like Dominique or Levi. I don’t want them to feel bad there idea didn’t work out so well :( _

 

She finishes the text right in time for the random high school teacher to collect her phone at the front of the room in a little basket.  Fran looks around. She is literally the only one here.

 

“Your detention starts at 3:15 and lasts an hour.  No talking. You can sit quietly and think about why you’re here.  Now is not the time to talk to your friends or take a nap. Now is the time for reflecting on the choices that brought you here.”

 

Fran gulps and sinks in her chair.  It’s awful being the only kid in detention today in the whole school.  She wonders if Jesus ever got detention? If it would be rude to ask him that?  She’s pretty sure Brandon, Mariana, Callie and Jude probably never have. But Jesus might have.  Just because he wasn’t the best student.

 

She doesn’t talk back to the teacher but she knows all about what brought her here.  Unfairness because she’s Francesca and she gets blamed for everything kinda like Mariana does.  Like Jesus used to. She could really use some space away from mean people right now. Fran imagines Mariana, Dominique and Jesus all at Avoidance without her.

 

She takes out a piece of notebook paper:

 

_ May 19, 2021 _

 

_ Dear Avoiders, _

 

_ I am pretending detention is like Avoidance.  I wish other people understood me like you do.  I wish they didn’t blame me for stuff that’s not even on purpose like falling, and stuff that’s defending myself like calling names back. _

 

_ I don’t think I am wrong but don’t tell.  I know it is wrong to touch people without asking first, and I did not ask.  But it was when I lost my ballance and Jesus you get that. You say safety first.  Isabella and most kids in my class get it to. But now I am in trouble for it? :( I think it is because I am mixed and I have a disability. _

 

_ I know it is not right to say stupid and ugly but I didn’t really I just said, “You are” after he said it to me.  I got in trouble and he did not. Well, we both had to stand by the wall after recess but I got detention after I fell and cot myself on him bc he said I was attacking him and the aide beleaved him. _

 

_ I am so sad Avoiders.  Moms are gonna be so mad at me and I will probably not be allowed to even have my phone or anything.  No screens :( _

 

_ I should probably be doing my h-work but what will I do after school without any screens?  I have to save some thing to do for then. _

 

_ I don’t want to be as different as I am.  And I also wish I knew some body else with CP.  That would make me so much less lonely I think.  _

 

_ It is almost time to go.  I will give this to Mari and she can give it to you guys so it can be like I am there even when I don’t have my phone. _

 

_ Love,   
Francesca _

 

But what actually happens, is Fran wipes her eyes and goes to the recycling bin, tearing the paper into tiny pieces nobody can even read before she leaves.  She can’t face them knowing.

 

She had to tell Jesus and Mariana because they were going to come and pick her up today and she didn’t want them to worry about her.  But she’s not ready for the entire Avoider world to know she is terrible.

 

She gets her phone back at least, and she takes her time walking to the car, knowing Mama will take her phone away the minute she sees her.

 

Fran sees a Polo from them and presses play.  She sees their faces, all concerned, at Jesus’s (not Avoidance without her.)  

 

“Fran, we’re not disappointed,” Jesus says.  “We’re worried, though.”

 

“You’re not a terrible person,” Mariana adds.

 

“I know your biggest worry is being isolated from the Avoiders, but Mari says she’s gonna let you borrow her phone on the DL so you can check in with us on Avoiders Chat,” Jesus adds.

 

“So you won’t be alone.  Love you,” Mariana finishes.

 

Francesca wipes her eyes.  She has the best brother and sister.  But she really is alone right now. They can’t change that part.

 

\--

 

Mama’s waiting out front for Fran when she’s done, with her hand out for Fran’s phone.  Francesca gives it to her and slides into the back seat.

 

No one talks the whole ride home.  It’s only a few minutes but it feels super long.  When they get there, Fran checks around for Mariana but she’s still at Jesus’s or at therapy or something.

 

It’s the worst way: just Moms and her.

 

“Come in here and sit down,” Mom says, like she already knows what Francesca did.

 

Francesca walks slowly.  Stops in the doorway of the living room.

 

“I said  _ come _ and  _ sit down _ ,” Mom says, impatient.

 

Fran starts sliding to the floor right on the step in to the living room, but Mama catches her under the arms.  “Nope. You don’t get to pout and be antisocial right now.”

 

Her knee hurts and the blood’s all dried there because she never even got a bandaid.  But Francesca’s not crying from that, she’s crying from Mama holding onto her from behind and making her walk into the living room and sit down on the couch.

 

Fran cries harder as both Mom and Mama stand in front of her, their arms crossed.

 

“Are you finished?” Mama asks.  “We can’t talk to you while you’re making all that noise.”

 

Francesca draws a deep breath, feels all her feelings go deeper inside her, hiding under a giant blanket that just looks smooth and perfect on top.

 

She still can’t make herself look up, but at least she stopped crying.

 

“Now, I want you to know up front that you are not being punished for losing your balance,” Mama says, like Fran should be so happy, when really, she got sent to the office in the first place for losing her balance.  She got detention from being sent to the office. And now she’s getting grounded for getting detention probably, so it all goes together.

 

Mama waits a little, and when Fran doesn’t say anything, she keeps talking.  “You are being punished because I went easy on you. Most kids in your position get suspended for verbal bullying.”

 

“Then why isn’t Michael getting detention, too!” Francesca blurts, angry.

 

“Francesca, Michael wasn’t in my office this afternoon, you were.” Mama says.

 

“You keep this up, and it’ll land you in jail as an adult,” Mom warns.  “Trust me, I know. I see plenty of kids who started out just being sassy on the playground…”

 

“Stef,” Mama says softly and shakes her head.

 

Francesca swallows.  Her heart pounds in her chest really hard.  She’s heard the stories. A couple years ago, there was even a Black little boy one year older than her and a white lady called the police on him for something he didn’t even do.  She’s seen videos of cops pinning down and punching Black girls just a little bit older than Fran for “talking back.”

 

And lots of Black people even die by police.  

 

Fran’s always kind of been afraid of Mom, and maybe that’s why.

 

She thinks of Mama giving her The Talk at the beginning of the school year, same as every year, but this year, it had more stuff in it.  “ _ Don’t talk back.” _   “ _ Answer their questions.”  “Be polite.” “Stay calm. If you’re angry, don’t act like it.”  “Tell them about every move you’re going to make before you make it.  Make sure they can always see your hands.” _

 

Fran swallows.  She inches her hands out from under her thighs.  Makes sure Mom can see them, just in case she’s more cop now, and less Mom.

 

“No electronics today through Friday.  You’re grounded ‘til the weekend.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Fran says, and it’s just the way Mama taught her.

 

“Go do your homework.  We’ll call you for dinner,” Mom insists.

 

Fran stands up.  ( _ “Never run,” _ Mama’s voice reminds her inside her head.)  “Okay. I’m just gonna go do my homework,” Fran explains, walking slowly from the room.

 

When she gets upstairs, Fran locks the bedroom door, and drags her backpack to the giant closet she, Mari and Callie all used to share.  It’s big enough to be a secret hideaway, with a light on the inside and everything.

 

She tries to calm her heartbeat by taking some deep breaths.  It doesn’t really work. Fran tries to concentrate on her twenty minutes of reading, but not even Harry Potter can help her now.  He’s treated bad just like she is.

 

Lots of time passes, but Fran has no idea how much, because her phone usually tells her the time and she doesn’t have a clock in the closet.

 

A long time after, she hears a knock.  The doorknob rattles. Fran freezes. Feels the key pressed in her hand.

 

“Fran, it’s Mariana.”  She hears it distantly, but she doesn’t wanna move.  She keeps her back to the closet door. It opens in, so maybe no one will be able to get it open if she just stays here.

 

She hears some noise and the lock pops.  The door swings open. “Frankie, you know the rules, my baby, no locked doors,” Mom calls, like everything is normal and fine.

 

Except it’s not.

 

\--

 

Mariana glances around.  She sees the crack of light showing under their closet door.  She goes over and knocks. “Hey. Brought you dinner,” Mariana invites.  “Jesus wanted to do something, and I told him you liked Not a Burger, so…  Hey, Fran?”

 

Slowly, the doorknob turns and swings open.  Francesca’s sitting all the way back under the hanging clothes.  One knee of her pants all dried blood.

 

Mariana can’t make out her face.

 

“Hey…” Mari whispers.  “Can I come in?”

 

“Close the door behind you…” Fran whispers.

 

“From inside?” Mariana clarifies.

 

“Yeah…”

 

It’s not until Mariana’s sitting inside the closet, her back against the door, that Francesca crawls out from under the hanging clothes.  Her eyes are wary and her skin is kind of grey.

 

When she sits next to Mariana, Mari can feel her shaking.

 

Francesca leans against her and Mari puts an arm around her.  Her own heart is pounding with dread. What the hell happened to Francesca today?

 

The minute her arm is around Francesca, it’s like she collapses, breaking into quiet, broken sobs.  

 

“Oh, no…” Mariana offers, sympathetic.  

 

It takes a long time for Fran to stop crying.  Mariana’s beyond worried. After Fran’s sobs taper off, Mariana tries again.  “Can I fix your knee?”

 

Fran nods.

 

Mariana finds bandaids and antibiotic cream and comes back to Fran, still in the closet.  She has to double back because she forgot the warm washcloth, but Fran’s not impatient. She just waits.  Looking so fragile that it scares Mariana.

 

It’s when Mariana’s doing the thing, actually fixing her up and giving Fran the job of opening up the bandaids that the story starts coming out.

 

How Fran’s basically being punished for something she can’t help.  How Lena woman-handled her, making her walk to the living room. Making her stop crying.  And finally...Stef.

 

“Mom, like, threatened me…” Fran shares, her voice barely a whisper.

 

“How?” Mariana asks, horrified but not surprised.

 

“Jail,” Fran says.  Her eyes fill with tears again.  “Mariana, I don’t wanna go to jail…  I don’t,” she begs.

 

“God…” Mariana breathes, glad her knee’s finally bandaged so she can hold onto her baby sister.  She feels Fran’s heart pounding. Wonders if Stef even gets how messed up it is that she threatened her Black daughter with jail time.  “I’m so sorry. So sorry I wasn’t here.”

 

“It’s okay,” Francesca answers.

 

“It’s not,” Mariana insists.  “They’re doing this...because you defended a friend. Which they’ve told us to do.”

 

“That’s what I thought, but I was wrong, I guess.  I wasn’t trying to be sassy, I promise, Mari.” Fran insists, like she’s terrified Mariana will believe Stef’s version of the truth.

 

“I know.  She shouldn’t have said that,” Mariana tells Fran seriously.  She takes a deep breath. Praying the right words will be there.  “Listen. If you ever feel like this? Like you’re gonna be in trouble or whatever?  Like, if anything feels wrong? I want you to do the thing and send us a Polo.”

 

“I know.  I just couldn’t today.  Because Mama took my phone right away,” Fran explains regretful.

 

“I’m not blaming you.  Jesus and I should’ve been here when you got home,” Mariana says, stroking Fran’s hair as she lays with her head in Mariana’s lap.  “There’s no reason for us not being here that’s more important than you being safe. I’m not gonna tell you reasons...or excuses. We should have been here for you and we weren’t and I’m so sorry we let you down. We’re not disappointed in you.  And I bet Dominique and Levi and Pearl will understand all about this...if you ever wanna tell them…”

 

“I have so much homework to do…” Fran says, her voice hollow.

 

“I can help,” Mariana offers.  “You just stay right here for now.  Take it easy. Maybe eat in a bit, if you can.”

 

“I can’t do anything right,” Francesca offers, staring into the dark across from her.  “You know, I got so used to saying my feelings at the cabin? That it’s hard not to do that here.  I keep forgetting I can’t. Or this happens.”

 

“I know.  I’m sorry.  You didn’t deserve this,” Mariana insists, tears dropping off her face.

 

“I think I have to do the police rules in all the rest of life, too... “ Fran ventures.  “The ones Mama taught me. Not showing I’m angry, Being polite. Being obvious about what I’m doing.”

 

“Not with us, Fran.  You can be yourself with us,” Mariana promises, and it feels so damn brittle.  Like, what’s the point, if Moms are going to keep Francesca socially isolated from the only people who can even come close to knowing what it’s like to be her.

 

“That’s a really small amount of time,” Fran points out.  “Especially now.”

 

“I know…” Mariana nods.

 

Eventually, they can move from the closet.  Mariana offers food, and Francesca picks, eating a few fries and nothing else.

 

Mariana reads her some Harry Potter for twenty minutes, even though Fran looks a million miles away.  Mari helps her through some math problems (so hard and they probably get them all wrong, but whatever.)

 

“Frankie, how’s homework?” Lena asks, sticking her head in.

 

“Done,” Fran says softly.

 

“Okay.  You have detention again tomorrow.  I have a meeting and Mom works til 5:00 so you’ll have to find something to occupy your time.”

 

“Jesus and I can get her,” Mariana offers.

 

“Well, if you get her, we know where she’ll end up,” Lena warns.  “And Francesca’s still grounded. That means no going to play at Jesus’s.”

 

“We know.  We’ll drop her off here.  I’ll wait with her,” Mariana insists.

 

“All right, but don’t forget, you still have to stay on top of your therapy.  You can’t let it slide just because you’re babysitting.” Lena warns.

 

Mariana frowns but no words are there to respond, so she just nods.

 

“Bed in twenty minutes, so pajamas, teeth, all that.  8:30.” Lena insists.

 

When she leaves, Fran just sits close to Mariana holding her hand.  

 

“Nobody fixed my knee.  I couldn’t even go to the nurse.  They just sent me to Mama’s office.  It didn’t really hurt. But it does now.”

 

“I bet,” Mariana offers, sympathetic.

 

When it’s time for Fran to get ready for bed, Fran goes into the closet where their pajamas are and comes out in her Frozen nightgown.  Her knee is bleeding through the bandaid a little. Mariana takes her turn changing behind the closed closet door while Fran waits just outside it.  She won’t let go of Mariana’s hand and they go in the bathroom together. Mariana turns on the fan and the sink and the shower, and asks if Fran wants to check in with The Avoiders.

 

“You do it for me?  What if Moms here the sound on my phone and they check it?” Fran worries.

 

“What do you want me to say?” Mariana asks.

 

In minutes, Mariana’s pressing Start.

 

“Hey, guys, Fran is here and she wants me to tell you...that she’s really sad and scared right now.  She’s had a super hard day. And she can’t wait to send Polos herself on Saturday again. She misses all of us.  And just coming from me? Any support we can give her? She really needs it, guys.”

 

Finally, Mari presses the button again to stop the recording.  They head back in the bedroom, and Mariana pulls her blankets back on her bed.  “Princess bed?” she asks.

 

And finally, just a little, Fran smiles and crawls in with Mariana.

 

“I always think the bed’s gonna be too small for us,” Fran whispers.  Her hands are still cold as they were when Mariana came home.

 

“No way.  I’ll always have room for you,” Mariana promises.  “Oh, I should set my alarm for you.”

 

“6:30, please,” Fran says.

 

“You got it.  I love you, Francesca,” Mariana says, putting an arm around her.

 

“I love you more,” Fran says.  

 

But neither one of them can sleep.  Their bedroom door is open, because Lena left it that way when she came to check that Fran was getting ready for bed, and both are scared to do anything else to set them off.

 

Mariana’s glad Fran is on the inside, next to the wall.  “I’ll protect you,” she whispers.

 

Fran squeezes Mariana’s hand.


	22. Mercury

Francesca has a hard time waking up on Thursday morning.  Mariana having her arm around her is helping. But she still doesn’t want to get up, or go to school, or stay home.  What she really wants is to go to Avoidance and hide under the picnic table all day. She needs shelter from the way this life is.

 

It’s like she’s moved from being Pluto - the tiniest not-planet - to being Mercury.  The first to be burned by the sun, for no reason, except that it’s Mercury. And some planet has to be first.

 

(Just like some kid has to be blamed…)

 

Mariana’s alarm is ringing and she finally reaches over and turns it off.

 

She surprises Francesca by getting up, too.  By putting on jeans. A pink shirt like she used to wear all the time.  (Lucky it doesn’t have buttons.) Fran pulls her  _ I Guess That’s Why They Call It The Blues  _ shirt from Grams.  (Easy choice for being grounded) and black leggings so in case her knee bleeds nobody will see.

 

In the bathroom, Fran brushes her teeth, side by side with Mari.  Fran spits her toothpaste, “I don’t know why I’m wearing one of these.  It’s not like I can have my phone today.”

 

Mariana’s still brushing, looking like she hates it a lot.  She said once that the electric toothbrush makes her whole left side feel like it’s getting attacked by bees.  (She said it’s not exact but Fran gets that it doesn’t feel good.)

 

When Mariana finally spits and Fran is checking her hair, she asks Mari.  “Why are you getting ready now? Jesus doesn’t come until after I leave for school usually…”

 

“Going with you,” she says, quiet.  Determined.

 

Fran’s still half asleep and so is Mari, so Fran is pretty sure she probably heard Mari wrong.  Or maybe the words she didn’t mean to say came out instead of ones she did mean.

 

\--

 

They walk down to the kitchen together, hearing Jesus honk once from the driveway.  (For Mariana, Fran’s sure.) She sees her phone on the table and eyes it, but doesn’t go closer or touch it.

 

Mama picks it up and holds it out to her.  

 

Fran just watches.

 

“Go on.  You’re allowed,” Mama encourages.  

 

Hesitantly, Fran accepts it, and keeps looking at Mama.  What does this even mean? Is her grounding over early?

 

“This is for emergencies only,” Mama explains.  

 

(Fran knows in their family, emergency means one of four things: actually dying, getting kidnapped, breaking a bone, or getting sick at school and needing to go home.)

 

She’s never called Moms for a real emergency before.

 

“That means you call immediate family - me or Mom - if you can’t reach us, call your brothers and sisters until you reach someone.  This is not for playing on apps or talking to Avoiders. Got it?”

 

“Yes, ma’am…” Fran answers.  She stands awkwardly while Mama fixes her hair.

 

There’s a knock at the door and a loud, low woof.

 

Mariana goes to open it and then Jesus is standing there with Dudley at his side.  Francesca doesn’t look at them. She doesn’t want to cry.

 

“Morning, Jesus.  Did you need something?” Mama asks.  “Frankie and I are in a bit of a rush.  I have meetings all day.”

 

“I can drop her off,” Jesus offers.  

 

“Thank you, that’d be a huge help.  She is grounded. The phone’s for emergencies only.  So make sure she’s not playing on it.” Mama tells him.  “And she’s got detention again today after school. Mariana volunteered you to be chaufer.”

 

“Sounds good.  Let’s get a move on,” Jesus says lightly and Fran can’t wait to get away from Mama.

 

\--

 

The door closes behind them and Jesus says “Wait right there,” and puts Dudley in the car.  Then he comes back, offering Fran and Mari a hand down the steps.

 

They get in the car, and Jesus pulls out of the driveway.

 

“Buddy.  Hey, Francesca?” Jesus asks, looking in the rearview mirror.

 

“What?” she asks, looking out the window.

 

“I’m so sorry.  I misread your text.  Thought everything was cool, and you were basically saying you had a ride and needed to keep a low profile.  But I can see you’re not okay. This _ is _ an emergency.  I can tell what it looks like when someone’s been in danger.  That means you need all your safe people. So, I want you to check the Polos, all right?”

 

“You want me to get in more trouble?” Francesca asks flatly, still not looking at him.

 

Jesus pulls the car over.  Pulls out granola bars and a giant travel cup of coffee for Mariana.  Water for Fran. Hands them to her and Mari. 

 

“I want you to be safe,” Jesus says.  “Because I doubt you’ve felt safe for a while, right?”

 

Fran nods.  Hesitantly she checks Marco Polo: finds the message Mariana sent when Fran was standing off to the side.  Next, there’s one from Jesus:

 

“ _ Buddy, I’m gonna come and pick you up tomorrow, cool?  And maybe one of us can hang out with you at school Thursday and Friday so the kids don’t hassle you, or whatever’s been happening.  I’m so sorry we weren’t there when you got home yesterday. _ ”

 

Next is Pearl:

 

“ _ Hey, Fran.  I’m so sorry you’re feeling sad and scared.  Know that we love you, okay and we’re here. Can’t wait til Saturday to start seeing your face and hearing from you again.  Hang in there. Cleo says hang in there, too _ ,” she aims the camera at Cleo who licks the screen.

 

Fran smiles a little.

 

Levi doesn’t talk, he just sings.  She recognizes the song only when it gets to the chorus.  It was in a funny movie, _Cheaper by the Dozen_. It came out before she was born but it’s still good.  Levi sings it even better than the movie:

 

“ _ I’m just a kid and life is a nightmare.  I’m just a kid, I know that it’s not fair.  Nobody cares ‘cause I’m alone and the world is having more fun than me tonight _ .”

 

That song hits just how she feels inside.  She wants to listen to it over and over, especially the end where he looks in the camera and says, “ _ You’re not alone, Fran.  If you ever need to talk or get me a message, I’m here.  Know that I’ve had really bad stuff happen to me when I was a kid.  I know how scary and sad it can be. Let me know if I can do anything to help.  Have Mari send a message or something. Bye _ .”

 

Last is Dominique, who sounds really worried.  

 

“ _ Babe, I’m so sorry.  Did something happen after I left today?  I wish I knew this earlier and could’ve come and helped.  Please check in with us, or have Mariana or Jesus send us a message with whatever you wanna say.  We love you and we’re here _ .”

 

“I don’t wanna be late and get in more trouble,” Fran admits.  “Can we please go?” 

 

“Do you want us to say anything back for you?” Jesus asks.

 

“Just, thanks,” Fran says, picking at her chocolate chip granola bar.  “And please don’t show me on video. I really don’t wanna be in trouble.”

 

“I won’t.  I’ll tell them after you leave,” Jesus says.

 

\--

 

They get to school just in time and Fran is confused when Mari gets out, too.  Fran thinks she’s just gonna give Fran a hug for the day. She does that, but then holds onto her hand and walks in with her.

 

“What are you doing?” Fran whispers.

 

“Do you not want me to come in with you?” Mari asks.

 

“Wait.  You  _ meant _ that?  You really would come to school with me and stay?  Like all day?”

 

Mari nods.  “All day. I got my coffee, got my sis.  I’m ready.”

 

Francesca’s not sure what Mrs. Lawrence is gonna say about Mariana being in their class all day long, but she’s more worried about them avoiding Mama’s office.  Fran knows she has meetings all day, but it would be just Fran’s luck for them to run into her.

 

But they don’t.

 

And it turns out that she’s fine with Mariana staying.  Mari pulls up a chair right next to Fran’s desk when Fran asks.

 

She feels kinda silly.  None of the other kids have their older siblings there today.  But Jesus said. This is an emergency. Fran’s been in danger and needs Avoider support.

 

Mariana just sits.  Gives hugs to Isabella and Mateo and Ava, and almost everybody in class.  They love Mari almost as much as Francesca does.

 

It is nice not to be the only one with a disability again.  She can kind of relax. But she can’t really focus at all.

 

\--

 

Their journal topic for today is:

 

**What’s the hardest part of being a kid?**

 

And Francesca can’t write anything.  

 

When their time is almost up, she writes:  Respect even though that doesn’t tell what she really means.  Even though she’s supposed to write three sentences, the one word is all she can do.  (Mariana gives a thumbs up, because she gets how hard it is to write.)

 

The day is weird because everybody else acts like it’s normal.  Francesca doesn’t raise her hand at all. When she gets called on anyway, she says, “I don’t know,” softly.

 

\--

 

When they go to lunch, Mariana walks with them, beside Fran, like she’s part of the class.  Even though Mariana’s short, she’s still a little taller than all of them except Jayden.

 

“Francesca, are you okay?” Kimani asks as they get to the cafeteria.

 

Shrugging, Fran goes through the line and gets food.  It’s weird seeing Mariana go through and buy her own from the different parts of the cafeteria with her own money.  They meet up again and Mariana sits right at their table.

 

Isabella keeps talking to Mariana.  Kimani keeps trying to talk to Francesca but Fran doesn’t feel like talking.  Alex is absent today, thank goodness, but Michael is right in his usual seat, making mean faces at Fran.

 

Mari catches him at it.

 

She makes a face back and Michael’s so stunned he blushes and looks away.

 

\--

 

“I don’t wanna go out to recess…” Fran tells Mari when all the rest of the kids are headed there.

 

“Let’s walk by the ocean,” she encourages.  “No one’s there.”

 

She sets her phone alarm for five minutes before everybody has to line up and they end up just sitting together on chairs that are there.  (Thank goodness. Fran hates how the sand feels. Mari probably does, too.)

 

“Did Mom ever threaten you with jail?” Fran asks, looking at the waves.

 

“Remember that night I destroyed our room?  She told me I couldn’t go back to my college but was trying to force me into community college.  With an aide.”

 

“Ew…” Fran wrinkles her nose.

 

“When I freaked out and they sent you...wherever...in the house?  Stef...well, she said something kinda similar?”

 

“I was afraid Mom would arrest you from your accident…” Fran admits.  “What did she say?” Francesca asks, worried.

 

“It doesn’t matter.  Fran, you’re scared enough right now.  I don’t wanna make it worse.” She’s quiet for a while and then admits: “She said...she knew I could control what I was doing.  And if I didn’t start...she and Stef would send me to some kind of...hospital inpatient thing. Behavioral therapy. She thought I was acting out.”

 

“Impatient?” Francesca asks, confused.

 

“In-patient,” Mariana says, pausing so Fran can hear the difference.  “Like, you’re in and you’re a patient. You stay there.”

 

“But  _ you’re not _ acting out.  It’s when they don’t listen ever, and don’t respect you and it all builds up…  It’s not you being bad, it’s you being human.”

 

“Thanks, Fran.” Mari says.

 

“I hope Lena never sends you away,” Fran says, trying out Mama’s first name.  She’s noticed Jesus and Mariana do it a lot, when they’re not around them. And for a long time, like since Fran was in third grade, Moms have been acting a lot less like Moms and more like just mean people.

 

“I hope Stef never has you arrested,” Mariana answers.

 

Her alarm rings on her phone.  Fran gulps. “This was the time when I had to catch myself on Michael.  He put his arm back really fast and, like, flung me down on the gravel.”

 

“We can get the nurse to check on it today if you want,” Mariana says.

 

“No.  It’s close to Lena’s office,” Fran shakes her head.

 

“Hey.  Don’t do the name thing in front of Moms.  They get really offended,” Mariana says, a heads up.

 

“I won’t,” Fran promises.

 

\--

 

The rest of the day passes in a mix of fast and slow.  Gym is slowest because Fran is trying not to get hit by the kickball.  The last thing she needs is to fall and get hurt more. Mari’s here in gym, too.  It helps.

 

Pretty soon, the day is over, and that means it’s almost detention time.  She walks down the hall when the rest of the kids leave, checking her phone one more time.

 

Jesus is there:

 

“Francesca wanted me to say thanks,” he passes along, just like she asked.

 

There’s a video of Jesus brewing some coffee at his apartment with a note next to it that says it’s  For Mariana .  Mari’s watched and done a heart reaction to it.  Fran’s careful to do zero reactions, even though Moms might still see her picture all caught up on the Polos.

 

“You have to go, right?” Fran asks when they get to the door of detention.

 

“Nope.  I’m staying right next to you,” Mariana promises.  “I know Craig. He was my teacher in high school...and Robotics.  So, he’ll let me.”

 

“I hope he doesn’t take your phone,” Fran worries.

 

It turns out, Craig is way happy to see Mariana.  Happy enough to let her stay and keep her own phone, even if he confiscates Francesca’s.  There are a couple more kids in detention today. So, it’s not as lonely. It kind of feels like she and Mari are just having regular life together, except that Fran isn’t allowed to even talk right now.

 

She wants to take a nap.  Or write Mariana a note. But she doesn’t do either thing because she’s not allowed to nap and too tired to write.  

 

Finally, it’s 4:15 and Jesus is there to pick Fran and Mari up.  He has more coffee for Mariana and puffy Cheetos for Fran. Dudley’s in the front seat, smiling.  

 

On the way home, Fran finally risks it and turns on Marco Polo, tracing a heart with her thumb that shows up on the screen.  It looks crooked, but this way they can all see her face, and her heart. Plus she really misses being able to talk to them.

 

\--

 

She’s planning to play on her phone until Moms get back, but Francesa and Mari both end up falling asleep as soon as they get home.

 

Francesca wakes up when the clock in their room says 6:22 and she wonders what day it is.  If it’s in the morning or at night.

 

Her phone is gone again and it makes her feel weird that Stef or Lena took it away from here when she was sleeping.

 

She goes to the bedroom door and listens.  Can hear Jesus is still here, watching  _ Chopped _ for the billionth time with Moms.  She’s hungry, but she has to do her homework, and Mariana’s still sleeping.

 

So Fran takes her bag to the closet and turns the light on in there.  Reads Harry Potter first because that’s actual homework that doesn’t feel like homework.  Next is more math. Studying for spelling because the test is tomorrow.

 

She hears a tap on the closet door.  “Hey, it’s almost bedtime. Jesus is in the hall.  Wants to say goodnight,” Mariana says.

 

Fran still hasn’t gotten done with spelling.  She hates that  _ different _ is on this list.  She hates being treated bad for being different. Also?   _ Inquisitive  _ is really hard.  She wishes she had her phone to Google, or ask Dominique about it.  She’s great at spelling and vocab words.

 

Sighing, Fran gets up and opens the door.

 

“Whoa.  Sorry you had to do your homework in here ‘cause I passed out…” Mariana remarks, catching sight of all of Fran’s books scattered around the floor.  “Not enough coffee in the world, I guess…”

 

“It’s okay.  I like small places,” Fran reassures.  

 

\--

 

She goes to the door, where Jesus is waiting.  Really wishes he could come in. The only thing that’s making this day kind of good is that she hasn’t had to see Moms at all.  Francesca does not want to see them now, even on accident.

 

“Mac and cheese,” Jesus offers, holding out a container of Easy Mac.  “And a hot dog...or a cold dog, I guess. I remember you like yours cold.” He hands her a Ziploc with a cold dog in it, no bread.  Because that’s how she likes it. “And more water. You slept through dinner.”

 

“Sorry,” Fran apologizes, taking the food.  “And thanks.” She doesn’t really look at Jesus now either.

 

“Buddy, it’s okay if you’re mad at me,” Jesus says quietly, squatting down to be at eye level with her.

 

“I’m not,” Fran tells him, looking at Dudley.  (She wonders if Dudley knows she’s about to eat something with  _ dog _ in the name.  If he feels bad.)  She can’t explain that if she looks at him, or really talks to him, she’ll cry.  And that she can’t cry right now, because Moms don’t like it.

 

“So,” he says, dropping his voice quieter.  “Is it okay if I hang out with you at school tomorrow?”

 

“If you want…” Fran ventures.  

 

“I do.  And here…” Jesus takes off the orange bracelet that says AVOIDERS UNITE.  “Wear this. So you can know I’m with you.”

 

Fran studies Jesus’s wrist.  Can see a little bit of his scars underneath where that bracelet was.  She slips off her own green one. “Here. Oh, can you ask Dominique about this word…”

 

She goes to the closet and gets her spelling workbook.  Points to  _ inquisitive _ .  I need to know it for tomorrow and I don’t even know what it means,” Fran laments.

 

Jesus takes a picture of the word in her spelling workbook and attaches the picture to a Polo and then asks Dominique:

 

“Fran wants your help on a spelling word, Dom.  If you’re available.”

 

She sends a video back right away, and Jesus gives her his phone to hold to her ear for privacy.  She walks further into the room and listens.

 

“Inquisitive means curious.  I’d say you’re inquisitive. The trick is to break it up:  _ I-n--q-u-i--s-i-t--i-v-e _ .  Just make sure you’ve got all four sections and you’re good.  Love you.”

 

\--

 

Fran presses rewind a bunch of times until she’s heard Dominique spell inquisitive so much it’s easy to remember.  Then she gives Jesus his phone back.

 

Just in time, too, because Lena’s there, upset that Fran has food in her room.

 

“What did we say about this, Frankie?” Lena asks, hands on her hips.

 

Fran jumps at the noise.  At the suddenness of Lena just being right there.  “I’m sorry,” she apologizes, feeling her heart thump in her chest.

 

“It’s my bad.  I brought it up here for her,” Jesus interrupts.

 

“Well, you definitely know better,” Lena tells him and Fran can’t tell if she’s joking or serious.

 

“Bed in twenty minutes.  So, say good night to your brother,” Lena says.  “Detention tomorrow. Jesus, would you mind doing pick up tomorrow morning and afternoon?  Another day of meetings.”

 

“Yeah, cool.  I’ll be here,” Jesus promises.

 

Something about Jesus leaving has Francesca putting her arms around his neck.  She feels bad not asking. But no words will come out right now around the giant lump in her throat.

 

Jesus hugs her back.  It’s warm and long and she can feel his love in it, even though she’s kinda been ignoring him today, he still is acting like he loves her.  Maybe he still does.

 

\--

 

When Jesus finally leaves, Francesca tries to double-task by eating and studying the rest of her spelling words at the same time.  She keeps getting stuck on  _ flamingos _ \- wants to put an  _ e _ on the end so it says - _ goes _ .  She thinks of Dominique’s trick of breaking up the word and she gets it right.

 

She also gets a stomachache from eating too fast.  

 

Francesca tries to just ignore it and puts her  _ Frozen _ nightgown on again.  Some kids might think it’s babyish but it is like, Fran’s second favorite Disney movie ever, behind  _ Moana _ .  She doesn’t like  _ The Little Mermaid _ as much as she used to.  Plus  _ Frozen _ reminds her a lot of Mariana (because Mariana said she relates to Elsa.)

 

Fran’s about to get in her own bed, when she’s surprised to see Mariana with her covers back.  “You don’t wanna sleep here again?” she asks.

 

“Oh.  I can?” Fran wonders.

 

“You always can,” Mariana reassures.

 

When the lights are out and they’re side by side, Francesca whispers: “Do you think Pearl’s mom ever threatened her with police?”

 

“I don’t know…” Mariana admits.  “That’d be a question for Pearl.”

 

“Yeah, except, I don’t know how to tell them...without feeling like the actual worst,” Fran says, keeping her voice low.  “How do I tell all the things I did?”

 

“You say, ‘I defended a friend and got in trouble unfairly.’  Um… ‘I fell and got pushed down when I tried to catch myself.’”

 

“‘After he already tried to push me down once,’” Fran adds.  

 

“Oh my God…  What were the aides even  _ doing _ ?” Mariana rants quietly.  “I’m so sorry.” 

 

“It’s okay.  Keep going,” Fran encourages.

 

“Okay.  You say ‘I was misunderstood and sent to the principal.  I got detention and got grounded for three days--’”

 

“--And threatened by police to go to jail--” Fran interjects softly.

 

“And threatened by police to go to jail,” Mariana confirms sadly, finding Fran’s hand in the dark.  “And you say, ‘None of that...was my fault.’”

 

“You really believe that?” Fran wonders honestly, shivering.  Imagining jail, and maybe being killed by cops that hate her.

 

“I really believe  _ you _ ,” Mariana answers softly.  “So, I definitely believe that.”

 


	23. I'm with You

On the last day of Francesca’s grounding, she feels a little bit better.  Mariana sleeps in a little bit more, and Fran puts on her orange shirt from Grams (it has a picture of an orange and a banana instead of their words, and it says  _ Orange you glad I didn’t say banana?) _

 

It’s because of Jesus’s bracelet around her wrist the same color.  She picks out pink leggings to sort of match. Goes in the bathroom to change.  Checks out her knee. It’s still gross. Not dried out and scabbed yet. She does the same thing Mariana’s been doing: warm cloth, antibiotic cream, bandaids.  It’s harder to do it by herself, but she manages. Then, Fran puts her leggings on. Some coconut and pear chapstick because she likes the smell and it helps her lips feel good.

 

“Hey, Mari?  You still gonna go hang out with Dominique today?” Fran asks.

 

“Yeah,” she answers, a lump under the covers.  “She’s coming later to pick me up.”

 

“Oh, okay, sorry,” Fran apologizes.

 

“Come here,” Mariana calls gently, sitting up.  “You need your hug, right? I’m gonna miss you.”

 

“I’m gonna miss _ you _ ,” Fran says.  “But Jesus will take good care of me.”

 

Mariana’s eyes fall on Francesca’s wrist where Jesus’s orange bracelet is.  “Here. It even goes with your outfit,” she says, taking off her own magenta bracelet and giving it to Fran.  “This way you’ll know. We’re both with you.”

 

“But you won’t have one,” Fran objects.

 

“I’ll be with Dominique.  If I need one, I’m sure she’ll share hers.” Mariana reassures.  “I’ll come down with you,” she says getting out of bed.

 

\--

 

They’re both more than a little shocked to find Jesus in the kitchen.  Dudley’s snarfling all his dog food out of a bowl in one corner. “Morning,” Jesus turns from the stove, spatula in hand.  “Omelets,” he says, setting two plates down.

 

Mariana looks torn.  She doesn’t eat ham. Or cheese.  Or eggs.

 

Coffee’s brewing in the pot and toast is popping out of the toaster.  Jesus puts peanut butter and jelly on Fran’s. Puts just jelly on Mari’s.  Just peanut butter on his. He pours coffee into Moms’ giant  _ Mama Needs Coffee _ mug and sets it down in front of Mari, smirking.

 

“This is as big as my face,” she complains.  “I can’t even lift it.”

 

“My bad.  Here,” he says pouring it into her pink travel cup instead.  That way she can take it when she leaves.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Jesus is drinking tea.  So is Fran. Mint, with sugar.  It tastes the best and is sort of calming.  And sort of sharp. Which she needs.

 

“It’s egg whites and that fake cheese.  And turkey salami that I brought from home,” he grins at Fran.

 

She smiles back.

 

“Are you okay in the kitchen?” Mari checks.

 

“Yeah, Moms were gone early,” he reassures.  “So, it’s breakfast Jesus-style.”

 

While they eat, Jesus checks with Mari and Fran before making a Polo for The Avoiders.  (Levi and Pearl and Dominique all loved Fran’s heart she drew and nobody even made jokes about it.)

 

“Hey, we wanted to say hey,” Jesus says, aiming the camera so it shows all of them.

 

Fran says “Hey,” and Mari waves.

 

“We’re having breakfast and we miss you,” Jesus says.

 

They don’t talk much, but it’s okay.  Fran has to stay on track. She finishes her omelet and her tea.  Half of her toast. She’s stuffed. Next, it’s to the bathroom to brush her teeth.  She wears her hair loose with just a headband in it to keep it out of her face. (Moms hate hair in her face.)

 

“Head into Moms’ room and grab your phone.  They said it’s on the charger in there,” Jesus says.  “Then we gotta go.”

 

Fran heads there, pushing the door open and glances around.  She’s barely ever in here anymore. And the bedside table on Mama’s side is so messy.  She finally finds her phone at the very bottom an unplugs it. She thinks about taking the charger out and thinks better of it.

 

She’s still in trouble.  Can’t afford to get in more, especially with Mom.

 

“Got it,” Fran says, coming back into the kitchen.  It looks like it’s been magically cleaned by a bunch of Harry Potter house elves.  But the thought of that makes her sad. She thinks of Jesus and even Pearl, being put in charge of cooking and maybe cleaning when they were too young.

 

She checks on Jesus to make sure he’s not too nervous.  Remembers Mariana was with him. That maybe they cleaned together.  Fran can relax.

 

“Awesome.  All right, Mari, you cool here?” Jesus asks.  “I can drop you off at the apartments.”

 

“No, I’m okay.  Got my phone. And I have to get ready,” Mariana says.  “Thanks, though,” she says gesturing to the table. “It was really good.”

 

“Let me know when you’re there?” he asks Mariana.  “Or, like, if something comes up?” 

 

“I’ll be fine.  I’ve been alone before,” she says.

 

“I know, sorry.” Jesus apologizes.  “Let’s go, buddy,” he says, and he and Fran are out the door.

 

\--

 

Getting to school with Jesus is like getting to school with a real bodyguard.  Fran’s only 4’2” while Jesus is 6’1”. Most of the kids are taller than her, but Jesus is even taller than Jayden, which is impressive.

 

“So…  How do you wanna do this?” Jesus asks.  He’s wearing one of her favorite shirts of his - blue - with a giant fingerprint on it.

 

“Mari just pulled a chair up next to my desk and sat,” Fran explains.  “You don’t have to, though. I mean, you can go if you want.”

 

Jesus squats down, down, down to see her.  “Do you want me to go?” he asks, curious.

 

“No, but like… maybe if you thought I was being a baby…” Francesca ventures.  “That I don’t need my brother and sister at school with me. I know that’s what Moms would say.”

 

“Well, Moms aren’t here.  (Okay, so Lena is here.) But, the point is, basic needs, right?”

 

Fran is confused.  “I already had breakfast.”

 

“Safety, buddy.  I’m still treating whatever happened to you like an emergency.  ‘Cause your reaction told me it was.”

 

“They were really mean…” Fran shares quietly.  She tells Jesus about the playground. Lena’s office.  Then, home. Lena putting hands on her to make her walk.  Trying to say Francesca wasn’t being punished for falling when she really was.  And finally, Stef saying she’d land in jail if she kept being so sassy.

 

Jesus looks so serious.  Like he doesn’t doubt her at all.  He just opens his arms.

 

She goes into them.  Fran doesn’t care they’re right on school grounds.  On the giant log. She really needs this hug.

 

“It really scared me…” Fran admits.

 

“It’d really scare me, too,” Jesus nods.  “Hey, you know,” he says pulling back. “You can always tell me or Mari you need backup.  I’m not blaming you. We should’ve checked. Asked you. Or just shown up, for safety.”

 

“Didn’t wanna make it worse.  Sometimes if other people show up?  It’s worse later…” Fran admits. 

 

“I get that,” Jesus nods.

 

“We should go to school,” Fran nods at the building where kids are lining up.  “Are you gonna be okay in there?” she asks.

 

“I got Dudley.  Some anxiety meds on board. Headphones, in case.  I’m prepared, I’ll be okay,” he reassures, squeezing her hand.

 

“If you need to go, I understand,” Fran tells him.

 

“Francesca.  If I go? You’re coming with me.  I’m not leaving you here alone. Not today,” Jesus says.

 

He signs in at the front desk and the secretaries act all weird.  Jesus used to be a student here until he started fourth grade. Then he got kidnapped.  He tried to go back one time after he got home, when he was in like eighth grade. But it was too much.  That’s why Fran tried to give him an out.

 

“Jesus Foster, you’re here for your sister.”  

 

“Yeah.  If it’s okay…” Jesus hedges, seeming unsure, and looking at Mama’s office close by.

 

“Well, of course it’s okay.” Connie says.

 

“So cute,” Marcia whispers.

 

Francesca tries not to roll her eyes.  She hopes they’ll be done making a big deal out of Jesus being a normal brother and let them go to class.

 

\--

 

When they finally show up to Mrs. Lawrence’s class, she’s just rushing in, too.  She stops and does a double take.

 

“Francesca, is this your brother?” she wonders, like he’s famous.

 

“Yeah.  Jesus. He wants to stay with me today.  Is that okay?” Francesca asks.

 

“Cool!  A dog! Can I pet him?” Alex asks and doesn’t wait for an answer.

 

“Can I say something real quick?” Jesus asks Mrs. Lawrence.

 

“Of course.  And of course you can stay.” she gushes.

 

She gets everybody’s attention for Jesus.  (Francesca’s glad he doesn’t go up to the front of the room to talk.  That would be awkward.)

 

“This is a service dog, okay?” Jesus says, pointing to Dudley.  “He’s doing a job, so he’s gotta focus on that. That means do not pet him.”

 

“Aw,” Alex says, disappointed.  Even though he already did pet Dudley without consent.

 

“Also, I’m not here to answer questions,” he glances at Mrs. Lawrence.  “Uh, that’s it.”

 

“Okay!  Thank you so much!” Mrs. Lawrence insists.

 

Jesus pulls up the chair still next to Francesca’s desk.  She grins seeing him wearing her green bracelet. Shows her own left wrist, wearing his and Mariana’s bracelets.

 

Their spelling test is first, and Francesca feels ready, thanks to Dominique. Jesus puts his headphones on.  (There are some school things his trauma just doesn’t like and he did get in big trouble on a spelling test once…) 

 

Francesca starts getting nervous when Mrs. Lawrence reads off the first word:

 

“ _ Distance _ .  Mrs. Lawrence had to park a good  _ distance  _ away today.   _ Distance _ .”  

 

(Oh, no.  Usually she just reads a general sentence.  Now she’s going to put their names in the sentences?  Francesca concentrates on spelling  _ distance _ .  It helps some that she’s confident.)

 

“Number two.   _ Support _ .  Francesca has needed extra  _ support _ this week.   _ Support _ .”

 

(No!  This is so embarrassing!  She should be in the  _ inquisitive _ sentence!  Not this one!  Doesn’t Mrs. Lawrence know anything?  Fran scribbles  _ support _ and hopes Mrs. Lawrence will just move on.)

 

They get almost to the end of the list.  Fran’s on a roll, spelling every word right, even with the awful  _ support _ sentence.

 

She even gets  inquisitive  exactly right.  Fran wishes she could show Dominique how much she is killing it on this test.

 

“Number sixteen.   _ Returned _ .  Jesus has  _ returned _ to Anchor Beach.   _ Returned _ .”

 

(What?!  Jesus isn’t even part of their class!  Francesca cuts her eyes toward him. Luckily his headphones are super-strength and he doesn’t hear her talk about him.)

 

Finally, they’re done and Francesca hurries to hand her paper in, almost forgetting her name at the top.  (She’d lose a point then. And Fran is sure she just got a perfect.)

 

When Jesus sees them hand the papers in he takes the headphones off.  Dudley has his head resting in Jesus’s lap.

 

Fran points to herself and gives him a thumbs up.  He nods and smiles. Whispers “good job” like he’s proud of her.

 

The best part of her day is art class where Fran is working on a giant colorful heart.  It’s looking good, but she works a lot slower than the other kids. So she has a ton left to do.

 

“Oh, no way.  I so wish I could give you a hand on this,” Jesus says, admiring her work.

 

“I wish you could, too.  You’re the best at art, and it would catch me up.” Fran observes sighing and grabbing an orange charcoal.

 

“You go ahead, Jesus,” Mrs. Donovan says.  “I taught you kindergarten through fourth grade.  I’m sure you don’t remember.” She drops her voice, “And I’m sure you didn’t get to enjoy fifth grade art the same as your sister.  So you have at it.” Mrs. Donovan pats Jesus’s shoulder and he makes an awkward face at Fran.

 

“May I?” he asks.

 

“Yeah, I have little dots in the sections.  For the colors I want them to be,” Fran points out.  She shudders. Part of the problem is the charcoal makes her feel shuddery.  Jesus seems to like it, though, and he works fast and neat.

 

She’s only filled in like ten spots when Jesus is done with a whole section and stands up to move around the paper, for a different angle.

 

“She goes so slow, right?” Michael whispers to Jesus, like he just expects Jesus will agree with him.

 

“Looks like Francesca’s piece is a lot more complex than the shoe you’ve got going there.  Makes sense that you could finish fast while Fran would take longer.”

 

“You said you weren’t in Mrs. Lawrence’s class to answer questions, so why  _ are _ you?  Just to help Frankie cheat on art?” Michael sneers.

 

Francesca’s face gets hot.  Her arm and leg tense up.

 

“Michael Smith, this is such nice work, but you have a lot of negative space.  What could you fill that with?” Mrs. Donovan asks, and Fran breathes a sigh of relief.

 

Fran keeps eyeing Michael.  Nodding at him. Finally, Jesus whispers.  “Let me guess? He’s the kid who pushed you?  Twice?”

 

“And called Dominique names,” Fran whispers.

 

“He called  _ Dominique _ names?” Jesus asks, surprised.

 

“Yeah, she came to my class that morning and he was rude and asked what happened to her.  She didn’t say. So later, he said she was…” Francesca trails off, writing  _stupid_ and _ugly_ on a space on her drawing and then erasing it.

 

“So messed up,” Jesus seethes, coloring even faster.

 

“Don’t make it a thing, though.  I’m almost done being grounded,” Fran tells him.

 

“I won’t, but that’s…”  Jesus shakes his head.

 

They get through recess by just staying inside.  Jesus doesn’t like a lot of noise, and Fran doesn’t want to deal with Michael again.

 

Unfortunately, Mrs. Lawrence stayed in, too.

 

“Jesus, hi,” she says, pulling up a chair, totally interrupting the game of Tic-Tac-Toe they’re playing.  “How are you enjoying your time in 5L today? I can imagine it might be a welcome relief from the whole picture controversy.”

 

(Whoa, Francesca had almost forgotten all about that.  Jesus keeps his eyes on their paper. Draws an X on one side of Fran’s O.)

 

Mrs. Lawrence absently pets Dudley.

 

Fran’s mouth drops open.

 

“Ma’am,” Jesus says, stiff.  “I was pretty clear this morning: No petting the dog.  No questions. Please back off. Respectfully.”

 

“Oh…” Mrs. Lawrence blushes.  “I’m so sorry. I thought those rules were for the children.”

 

“They’re actually called boundaries,” Francesca adds, waiting for Jesus to draw another X.  “So, they’re for everybody.”

 

\--

 

Mrs. Lawrence leaves Jesus alone the rest of the whole day.  They score their spelling tests at the end of the day, correcting each other’s.  Fran gets 18/18. It’s her first perfect score.

 

“What do you say we go to Avoidance to celebrate?” Jesus asks once they’ve sat through an hour of boring detention.  It helps to have Jesus and Dudley there.

 

“I missed it so much!” Francesca answers.  They arrive and can see from far off that Mariana and Dominique are already there.

 

“Hi!” Fran says, bounding up to Dominique and giving her a hug.  “Guess what?” she says, whipping her test paper out of her bag to show Dominique.  “Look at the perfect score right there,” Fran points out helpfully.

 

“Wow!” Dominique smiles.  “You did so good! I’m so proud of you!”

 

“Will you keep this and put it up on your refrigerator?” Francesca asks.

 

“I’d love to, babe.” Dominique smiles and tucks the paper in her pocket.

 

They pick through the pile of snacks on the table.  Fran lets Jesus go first. She picks a cookie that’s chocolate chip and really huge.

 

“Can we please call Pearl and Levi so we can all be together?” Francesca asks.  “Moms aren’t gonna be home for a half hour.”

 

“Sure, let’s see if they’re around,” Jesus agrees.

 

Just like magic, Levi and Pearl show up on the screen.

 

“Oh my God, are you free?” Levi asks.  “Did they say you could be off grounding?”

“No,” Fran wrinkles her nose.  “But I did my last detention.”

“What happened?” Pearl asks.  “If you don’t mind me asking?”

“A bunch of stuff that wasn’t my fault,” Fran answers, cutting her eyes to Mariana who nods.  “I basically got in trouble for defending Dominique and then the same kid pushed me down when I lost my balance and tried to catch myself on him.”

“That sounds awful,” Pearl insists.

“Yeah, I cut up my knee really bad, see?” Fran props up her leg so her knee can be seen and rolls up the leg as Dominique steadies her from behind.  She peels off the bandaids.

“Dude.  That’s gonna scar,” Jesus insists sounding mad.

“The kid said I was attacking him so the aide sent me to Mama’s office and she gave me detention.  Then I had to go home and get in more trouble. Made me stand and walk to right where she said. Mom - and you know how she’s a cop? -” Pearl nods, and Levi shakes his head.

“Okay, so she is.  And she said that I’ll land in jail if I keep being sassy because I asked why the other kid didn’t get detention.”

Silence.  No one talks.

“Did your mom ever do that, Pearl?” Fran asks.

“Actually, yeah.  I was younger than you.  She acted like it was no big deal.  Said I’d only get bread and water. I was really scared…”

“Did you cry?” Fran asks honestly.

“I don’t think so…” Pearl admits.  “I think I just was scared inside.”

“Me, too,” Fran admits.  “‘Cause police hate us. So I wouldn’t mind eating bread and water.  I’d just want them not to beat me up or kill me.”

Dominique makes a noise like a sniffle.  Fran turns. Sees her crying.

“Do you want a hug?” Fran asks.

“I wanna hug  _ you _ ,” Dominique manages.

“Add a couple more from us.  If you want them, Fran,” Levi adds, gentle.

Fran nods.  Mariana’s alarm goes off and Fran hangs on a little longer.  Then she pulls back and sucks all her tears in. 

“Okay.  I only have a few more hours being grounded, guys.  I can do it. Jesus came to school with me and stayed all day.  Mari did yesterday.”

“I’m staying til you go to bed tonight,” Jesus insists.

“We should go,” Mari says apologetically.  “Get home before Moms.”

“Send us a video or something if you need us,” Pearl insists.

\--

Francesca gets her phone plugged back in on the charger by Mama’s side of the bed and back to her own room just in time.

She actually doesn’t have any homework.  She would’ve had to take her art project home for the weekend but Jesus helped her catch up.  She lies on her bed reading Harry Potter, for reading minutes, and to look busy.

She comes to the kitchen for meatloaf and potatoes and vegetables.  There’s never dinner like this. They must’ve picked it up from somewhere because Jesus is over.

“How was school?” Mom asks.

“Fine,” Francesca says carefully.  “I won my spelling test. Like, I got 100%,” she shares, hoping this will get her back on Mom’s good side.

“Well, look at that.  All this free time to study is doing you some good,” Mom says stabbing a carrot.

“Good job,” Mama says.

It feels good and weird at the same time.  They don’t usually tell her good job at anything.

“What did you two do today?” Mama asks Jesus and Mariana.

They look at each other.  “Just...hung out…” they chorus.

“What does that mean?  I never know,” Mom jokes.

They get done and Fran helps with the dishes fast so she can hopefully go with Mariana to gym, since Mari would rather have Fran and Jesus there than Moms.  And maybe Moms will be more calm with some free time.

Francesca and Jesus and Mariana go to the rehab gym together.  Fran likes the parallel bars because they make her feel steady, but she can’t use them because she’s not a patient.

( _ Inpatient.  You’re in and you’re a patient. _  Is this where Mariana would have to live if Mama sent her away?)  She slides closer to Jesus along the wall. He shares his phone with her, because Mariana doesn’t like too much attention on her when she’s doing stuff.

She plays Cookie Land on it.  Such a fun game. She’s so lucky to have Jesus for a brother.  And Mariana for a sister.

She shows Jesus she passed a level.  At 8:00, they leave and it takes until 8:30 to get home again.  Her bedtime is half an hour away and she has to shower.

Jesus still stays.

When she’s out and when Mama’s done doing her hair, Fran makes sure to return Jesus’s bracelet.  “Here. Thanks,” she says. (She hates how she feels like she can’t show her real feelings around Moms.)  They’re in the doorway of Fran and Mari’s room but Moms still could walk by anytime.

“Here.  You’re welcome,” he says, giving her the green one back.  “See you tomorrow? You wanna come over?”

Fran smiles her biggest smile in three days.  “I really do.”

“All right, I’ll be here in the morning to pick you both up.  Just text me when you’re awake and ready for me.”

“Okay,” Fran nods.

“Bye,” Mari says, stepping up to hug Jesus, too.

“See you tomorrow, sis,” he says.

\--

Fran climbs into Mari’s bed again.  This time, she feels almost good.

“I can’t believe I got 100%...” Fran breathes.

“Yeah, it’s good,” Mariana answers, like therapy tired her out.  Tomas, her gym therapist, is kind of a jerk.

“I can’t wait to go in Avoider’s Chat tomorrow…” Francesca says.  “Mari?”

But Mari’s breathing is deep and even. 

“Good night,” Fran says softly, and starts listing all the good things she can, so tomorrow will come faster.


	24. People Like Us

**Mariana Adams Foster, Jesus Adams Foster**

 

_ Wed. 8:53 PM _

 

_ Mariana:  Jesus, something happened to Fran :(  I’m so scared for her. _

 

_ Jesus:  What do you mean?  Do you need me to come?  Call? _

 

_ Mariana:  No. She’s in bed.  (Not sleeping.) Just…  I don’t wanna compromise her privacy, but it’s bad… _

 

_ Jesus:  When? _

 

_ Mariana:  I got here around 6:30 w/ Not a Burger.  She was in the closet hiding. She seemed terrified. _

 

_ Jesus:  Is this about school, you think?  Detention? Like she told us earlier? _

 

_ Mariana:  It’s related. _

 

_ Jesus:  You think it’s Moms. _

 

_ Jesus:  Mari, you know how they are when they get us alone. _

 

_ Mariana:  I do know. _

 

_ Jesus:  Shit. What can we do? _

 

_ Mariana:  Thinking seriously abt going to school w/ her tomorrow.  Staying all day. Making sure she’s safe at least that part of the day. _

 

_ Jesus:  How long is she grounded?  If she needs a Friday person, I can go.  I have enough notice I can prep. Would you be okay, like, hanging out w/ Dominique that day? _

 

_ Mariana:  Dominique’s one of my fav people.  But is she off? Let me check… In the meantime?  Check the Polos. _

 

**Mariana Adams Foster, Dominique Williams**

 

_ Wed. 9:02 PM _

 

_ Mariana:  Hey are you off this Fri?  Wanna hang? Jesus has a thing and I’d really rather not stay home w/ Moms :/ _

 

_ Dominique: Good timing!  I actually am off. I can prob get you around 10?  That cool? _

 

_ Mariana: That works.  Thank you. _

 

_ Dominique:  Can’t wait to hang out.  Hey, is Fran okay? I got your Polo… _

 

_ Mariana:  Not even a little :(  She’ll tell you when she’s ready. _

 

**Mariana Adams Foster, Levi West**

 

_ Wed. 9:05 PM _

 

_ Mariana: Levi, I hate my moms so much… _

 

_ Levi:  I’m sorry.  What’s up? _

 

_ Mariana: Can’t really say?  Out of respect? But like… [angry emojis] _

 

_ Levi: What can I do? :( _

 

_ Mariana: Is it okay if I rant here?  I’ve got Fran w/ me. So can’t do video now. _

 

_ Levi:  Sure. I’m listening.  _

 

_ Levi: Damn, I just saw the Polo.  Did she not wanna be filmed? _

 

_ Mariana:  Scared she’d be in more trouble. _

 

_ Levi:  I’m gonna send her a thing.  Brb. _

 

**Avoiders Chat:**

 

_ Wed. 9:31 PM _

 

_ Pearl:  Did everybody check your Polos?  Sounds like Fran’s having a rough time.  Let’s make sure to check in w/ her. When you see this, Fran, we’re thinking of you. _

 

_ Mariana:  Thanks, Pearl.  Means a lot. We’re tossing and turning here.  Not getting much sleep. _

 

_ Jesus:  Do good things.  Take turns saying things that are good back and forth to each other.  It helps when my mind starts racing. _

 

_ Mariana:  I asked her.  She said she doesn’t want to. :( _

 

_ Dominique: Harry Potter? _

 

_ Mariana: We read some already.  Hard to listen tonight :( _

 

_ Levi:  Hey, guys, I’m here.  Just had to do a song. _

 

_ Pearl: I love when you sing <3  _

 

_ Levi: Stop (but don’t really.)  Thank you. Hope it helps, Fran! <3  _

 

_ Thu. 8:12 AM _

 

_ Mariana: Hanging out w/ Fran @ school now.   _

 

_ Pearl: Glad someone’s there w/ you today, Fran!  Hope it helps having an Avoider so nearby. Saw you saw the Polos and that you said thanks. _

 

_ Levi: [sends a Moana gif of Maui singing “What can I say except you’re welcome”] _

 

_ Levi: [sends a gif of Maui telling Moana “You’re so amazing!”] _

 

_ Jesus: Cool, I’ll be there at 4:15 for pickup. _

 

_ Thu. 12:11 PM _

 

_ Mariana: You couldn’t pay me to go back here.  Fran’s biggest enemy is a major pain in the butt.  Jesus, when you come tomorrow? Watch for Michael. Blonde.  Lots of hair gel. Glasses. Worst. _

 

_ Jesus:  Got it. _

 

**Mariana Adams Foster, Jesus Adams Foster**

 

_ Thu 12:33 PM _

 

_ Mariana: Fran may not want to do recess tomorrow.  Don’t push. (Not that you would.) She may need to talk some stuff out. _

 

_ Jesus:  How is she?  Seriously? _

 

_ Mariana:  Pretty shut down honestly, but coping.  We talked during recess a bit so she’s not keeping it all in.  I hate Moms though. Like w/ the fire of a thousand burning suns.  How can they keep doing this shit to us??? :(  _

 

_ Jesus:  They’re just over it.  IDK. Having kids like us. _

 

_ Mariana: Maybe they should just have perfect Brandon….  PS you okay re: pictures? _

 

_ Jesus:  Not even close.  Still haven’t figured out if I wanna write back to the school nurse.  Or say more to Mrs. Smith. She offered to help us. But IDK what she could do. _

 

_ Mariana: Still…  Good to keep in mind. _

 

**Dominique Williams, Pearl West**

 

_ Thu 12:42 PM _

 

_ Dominique:  Lunch break at work.  I’m like...obsessed w/ checking the Polos. Avoiders Chat etc.  I’m afraid whatever happened w/ Fran was my fault… I landed extra attention on her. _

 

_ Pearl:  You don’t know that for sure. _

 

_ Dominique:  I know she’s grounded.  That child does not get grounded. _

 

_ Pearl:  That you know of.  Remember who their parents are.  It might be a regular occurrence. _

 

_ Dominique:  God, don’t remind me… _

 

**Dock Talks:**

 

_ Thu 6:18 PM _

 

_ Levi: OMG I just got Fran’s heart.  I’m like…everything is making me cry. _

 

_ Dominique:  Her eyes were so blank, though, Levi.  Whatever happened. She’s still not okay. _

 

_ Levi:  I know. :(  _

 

**Avoiders Chat:**

 

_ 9:11 PM _

 

_ Dominique:  Hey, anybody heard from Mari or Fran? _

 

_ Pearl: No, are they okay? _

 

_ Dominique: I think.  I just helped Fran with some spelling.  I was just wondering. _

 

_ Jesus:  I just left.  They both crashed after school.  Fran didn’t get up til about 6:30.  I hung around there and made sure she got dinner.  Now I’m home getting set for tomorrow. Suggestions for what I might need going to school tomorrow?  Levi? You were just in school… _

 

_ Levi: Not elementary school! [laughing emoji] _

 

_ Pearl: Food. _

 

_ Mariana:  Hey guys. Jesus, you’ll want headphones.  It’s pretty loud sometimes. And I just feel like there might be parts of the day you’d wanna block out.  If any were stressful. _

 

_ Jesus: Think it’s too much to get my meds on board, too.  Just for, like...in case? _

 

_ Mariana:  I don’t think it’s too much.  Do what you need to do. _

 

_ Fri 9:55 AM _

 

_ Jesus: Dude, their spelling test is weird as hell.  Fran’s teacher keeps putting the kids’ names in it. In embarrassing ways. _

 

_ Jesus:  Oh, hell no.  She just did mine in a sentence.  Thank God for Zoloft. And headphones. _

 

_ Jesus:  Fran, when you see this, don’t worry.  I’m okay. I wanna be here w/ you. And I’m really sorry your teacher did embarrassing sentences :/  _

 

_ Pearl: Yikes.  That sounds unpleasant.  Sorry to both of you <3 Also, there is a frog INSIDE and I’m so over it.  Levi, please hurry home so you can put it outside. _

 

_ Levi:  I will.  Don’t kill it and don’t let Cleo eat it.  I’ll let it go outside. You could just leave the door open when you walk Cleo… _

 

_ Pearl:  And wind up with a whole frog family in here???  No, thank you. _

 

_ Dominique: Hahahaha!  Oh god.  _

 

_ Mariana: Pearl, don’t touch it. _

 

_ Pearl: Trust me, I’m not. _

 

_ [Pearl sent a photo of a tiny frog in the corner of the cabin] _

 

_ Levi: Aw, it’s just a baby. _

 

_ Pearl: Okay, frog-whisperer, please come back and put it outside where it belongs.  I don’t want to be on frog-minding duty for hours. _

 

_ [Pearl sent a video]  Seriously, you guys, this is my life right now.  The frog is over there - right on the way to the bathroom - and Cleo and I are here.  And Cleo really wants to chase the froggy, don’t you? _

 

_ Mariana: Tell Levi to wear gloves. _

 

_ Levi: Mari, I’ll be fine.  Frogs giving you warts is a myth... _

 

_ Mariana: I just Googled.  The warts are a myth but they have poison ears.  Just be safe please. _

 

_ Levi:  I used to catch frogs and toads all the time.  I never got poisoned by their ears….just saying…  Fran, you’re gonna love reading this when you can catch up.  Can’t wait for Saturday. _

 

_ 7:13 PM _

 

_ Dominique:  So good to meet up w/ the Avoiders today.  Loved seeing everybody! _

 

_ Jesus:  Dude, did you get the frog out, Levi? _

 

_ Levi:  He’s out.  And I washed my hands after. _

 

_ Pearl: Fran, I’m still thinking about you and I am so sorry your mom threatened you like that.  It is 100% not okay and not your fault.  _

 

_ Dominique: Definitely not your fault.  I think it’s specific to kids of color who have white parents?  Because mine have never done that. _

 

_ Levi:  Mine either. _

 

_ Jesus: Its Francesca.  At gym w/ Mariana. I am glad Levi and Dom your parents never did it to you. PS I got 100% on my spelling test!!!! _

 

_ Dominique:  Yes, you did!  Y’all she did so awesome you should see it.  Fran, can I Polo it? Show them? _

 

_ Jesus:  It is still Fran.  Yes! I want every one to see my awesome test. PS Tomas is a peeon. _

 

_ Levi:  Peon (just in case it’s ever a spelling word ;) _

 

_ Pearl:  Who is Tomas? _

 

_ Jesus:  Still Fran.  He is Mariana’s exersize person here.  He is a jerk. He keeps telling her to work harder.  SHE IS ALREADY WORKING HARD! [angry emojis] _

 

_ Jesus:  Hey. It’s Jesus.  I agree. _

 

_ Pearl: Give Mariana our love.  Fran, too. PS Fran your test is amazing! _

 

_ Levi:  It is! Pearl was saying she’s feeling a little jealous that Dominique has it.  Wishes we could hang it on our fridge. _

 

_ Jesus: Hi it’s Fran.  Thanks. I will send you my next 100% spelling test.  Now I know how to study and get all the words right. Jesus says we have to go.  Bye. _

 

_ Sat. 12:24 PM _

 

_ Francesca: [sends a gif of Mushu from Mulan saying “I LIIIIVEEE!’] _

 

_ Pearl: Hey, sleepyhead!  We missed you here! _

 

_ Francesca:  I know I missed you to. _

 

_ Pearl:  How are you? _

 

_ Francesca:  Happy now. But still scared at home.  Mom said at breakfast today she didn’t mean to scare me that much, just a little bit.  And no I’m sorry. Just that she was trying to show me there are consequinces when I do bad things :/ _

 

_ Pearl: But she did scare you.  And you didn’t initiate (start) any bad things. _

 

_ Francesca:  Hey, did Levi ever get the frog out?  That would be so funny if it was still living there. _

 

_ Pearl: Haha, I don’t think so.  I would not be sleeping if it was still here.  He took it outside and let i _ _ t go. _

 

_ Francesca:  I think it was cute.  I’d want it as my pet. _

 

_ Pearl: [sends wow emoji] _

 

_ Dominique: Hey Fran!  You’re here! _

 

_ [Francesca sent a photo] _

 

_ Francesca: ^ Thats how happy I am to be back.  Whering my Joy to the Girl shirt see? _

 

_ Pearl: I love it. _

 

_ Dominique:  Seriously. Those shirts are amazing.  How many did your grandmother send? _

 

_ Francesca: 14!!! _

 

_ Dominique:  Wowwww. That’s impressive. _

 

_ Jesus:  Hey, Avoiders, it’s lunch time here.  Wish I could air mail some tacos. _

 

_ Francesca:  YUM. _

 

_ Mariana: I need coffee in my taco… _

 

_ Francesca: Hahahaha.  We should all be on video tonight.  We can, right? Just like usual? _

 

_ Levi: That’s the plan. _

 

**Francesca Adams Foster, Dominique Williams**

 

_ 3:33 PM _

 

_ Francesca: My knee still hurts a lot :(  _

 

_ Dominique:  I’m sorry, babe.  _

 

_ Francesca:  I still feel very nervous around Mom.  Like, my heart beats and my hands feel cold and stuff.  Is that trama? _

 

_ Dominique:  I’m not sure, babe.  I’m not a doctor. But sounds like anxiety to me at least. _

 

_ Francesca: I wish I was in your family. _

 

_ Dominique:  Me, too.  _

 

_ Francesca:  Your mom would not wanna scare me even a little bit, I bet. _

 

_ Dominique:  You’re right about that <3  _

 

**Francesca Adams Foster, Jaimie Williams**

 

_ Francesca: I have a question. _

 

_ Jaimie:  What’s up, buttercup? _

 

_ Francesca: Do you think it’s right to scare kids on purpose even if its only supposed to be a little? _

 

_ Jaimie: No.  I don’t think that’s very respectful at all.  You okay? Haven’t heard much from you lately.   _

 

_ Francesca:  Not really :/  Dominique can tell you if you wanna know.  I just...its hard to say. I feel bad. I keep saying I am happy but I dont know if I really am.   _

 

_ Jaimie: Whatever is going on?  Michael and I and the other Avoiders are on your side.  You’re not alone. _

 

_ Francesca: ‘Cause you love me? _

 

_ Jaimie: We do.  Very much. _

 

_ Francesca:  Okay. Thanks.  I love you, too. _


	25. Dig a Little Deeper

School lets out for the summer on June 8th.  

 

It’s been almost three weeks since Fran got done being grounded.  She’s looking forward to spending long days at Jesus’s and Dominique’s and Avoidance with Mariana.  Lately, they’ve all been talking about what to send to Minnesota, for Pearl and Levi’s first birthday together as brother and sister.

 

They really do have the same birthday - except twenty years apart - like, Pearl could be Levi’s mom.  But she always makes sure to say she’s not. Anyway. Now that Fran learned to study her spelling the best way from Dominique, she got perfects on her last two spelling tests.  Just like she promised, Fran tucks this one into the giant box of Minnesota presents.

 

Fran also sent two plane tickets to California.  She wishes they were real, but they’re really just drawn by her in purple gel pen (because Levi and Pearl’s favorite color is purple.)  Last, she tucks in a card she made herself. She’s a little worried because even with all her studying, she didn’t spell _birthday_ right.  Hopefully, they won’t mind.  Inside, she just draws a heart and says _Love, Francesca_ because it’s so hard to forget Mom’s reaction to the birthday card and message inside.

 

Jesus surprised Fran and Mari by baking brownies for Pearl and Levi.  He even asked if they remembered the kind Pearl had in her pantry in their cabin.  It was lucky Fran did remember. (Ghirardelli Double Chocolate. Fran can never forget brownie details.)  They smelled great - she got to be over when he baked them, and help, just like before. Jesus packed them specially in a container with a note:

 

_Happy birthday Pearl and Levi.  Birthday brownies, cabin-style. (Fran remembered.)  Love you guys. Have a great day. Jesus & Mariana_.

 

It was getting their box ready to mail that reminds Fran of being in Minnesota.  Of being able to talk to Pearl whenever she wanted about her bio dad. Being able to wonder about Fran’s own - who Moms never mention.

 

Mama actually is relaxing.  She gets summer vacation just like Fran, and she’s even going to tuck Fran in tonight.  It feels too good to be true - too good to ruin with questions - but Fran can’t help it.  

 

“Mama?  Can I know about my bio dad yet?” Fran wonders.

 

“Where is this coming from?” Mama asks, startled.

 

Fran tries to stay calm.  “Well, you said I could know when I was older back when I was five, and I’m eleven now.  Isn’t that older?”

 

Mama laughs nervously.  “You act like we’re conspiring against you.”

 

“What’s that?” (Another thing for Francesca to Google, that’s what.)

 

“Frankie, I don’t have time to play _20 Questions_ with you. We’ll talk about this later,” Mama says, impatient.  She’s standing up. Done with the idea of tucking Fran in. She didn’t even pull any of the blankets up.

 

All of Francesca’s calm is running out.  She’s been sure Mama was about to say that eleven is old enough, and she’s sorry, she just got distracted and forgot.  Not this. “But Pearl found out about her bio dad and it was too late!” Fran objects.

 

“Honey, don’t be dramatic.  Now, I don’t want to hear anymore about this, okay? Not unless Mom or I bring it up.  Understood?” Mama’s by the door now. Fran knows what that means: _This conversation is over_.

 

There’s nothing else to say, so Fran just sighs, “Understood.”

 

She can have her phone in her room at night now that it’s summer and she waits until she can hear Mama all the way downstairs before she calls Pearl.

 

“Hey, it’s a little late for you, isn’t it?” Pearl asks.

 

“It’s only 9:14,” Fran tells her.

 

“Ah.  It’s 11:14 in Minnesota,” Pearl tells her, not even like she’s mad.  Just like she’s sharing facts. Still, Fran feels like she should apologize.

 

“Oh my gosh.  That’s late. I’m so sorry.” Francesca giggles, uncomfortable.

 

“Don’t worry,” Pearl reassures, yawning.  “I’m here for you.”

 

“Thanks…  So, I tried to ask Mama about my bio dad.  Like, just now…” Fran admits.

 

“Yeah?” Pearl asks.  “Didn’t go well?”

 

“How did you know?” Fran wonders, a little hurt.

 

“I guess I figured if it had gone well, you’d be more excited,” she says like she’s sorry.

 

“Well, you’re right,” Fran sighs.  “Mama said don’t bring it up again unless they do, but they literally never bring it up!  It’s not fair! I even said the part about you not knowing about your bio dad until it was too late.  I thought that would help. But she just said not to be dramatic…”

 

“Hmm,” Pearl says.  “Well, you’re good at finding out information.  Have you tried asking Mariana again?”

 

“She’s sleeping,” Fran protests.

 

“Okay, so maybe another day.  Pace yourself,” Pearl encourages.  

 

Fran’s quiet, thinking that she paced herself enough already.

 

“How’s it going with your mom?  Are things still tense?” Pearl checks.

 

“Yeah, pretty much.  I’m still kinda in watching-mode around her.  But school’s out today and we mailed yours and Levi’s box.  It’s gonna be there on Thursday. Two-day shipping. Just in time for your birthday.  You’re going to love it. I think Dominique is sending stuff, too.”

 

“Okay, well, I love talking to you, Fran, but I have got to get back to the awful nightmare I was having,” she says seriously.  “To see if it’s as horrifying as the rest.”

 

“No nightmares,” Fran protests.  “They’re scary. Are you glad I called and woke you up?”

 

“It was a good distraction,” Pearl sounds like she’s smiling.  “Good night, Francesca.”

 

“I know.  Dream of _me_ ,” Francesca encourages softly.

 

“I’ll definitely try,” Pearl promises before hanging up.

 

\--

 

On the morning of his birthday, Levi wants nothing more than to hibernate forever.  He hadn’t been kidding telling Pearl that hibernating was a West family specialty. It really is.

 

He didn’t know how - with all the birthday talk - he hadn’t seen this coming.

 

The reality that this was only his second birthday ever without Dad.  That last year, Mom had tried so hard with a card and a cake but it was only six months post losing Dad, and it was Dad being there that helped make every birthday amazing.

 

He was glad for his mom - appreciated her - but it wasn’t the same without Dad badly serenading him with the birthday song - he definitely got his talent from his mom - and then dragging him out of bed to drive to the perfect place to watch the sunrise.  He’d park and then dig in the grocery bag he’d brought. Pull out two biscuit sandwiches.

 

“ _Now these here are the real deal.  Sunrise biscuits. You gotta eat ‘em at sunrise, or else it doesn’t count.”_ When he was little - nine the first time they’d shared a sunrise together - he’d asked, in awe:

 

_“How did you invent this sandwich?”_

 

“ _There was a restaurant where I used to live that made these, once upon a time.  Then I moved away, and they stopped making them. I got a little sad, see_.”

 

“ _Did you have these with my sister and that’s why you’re sad they took ‘em away_?” Levi had asked.

 

Dad had cleared his throat.  Nodded. “ _Yes, sir.  That’s right. But after a while of being sad, I thought to myself, ‘Self!  I bet you can make these yourself!’ and I did. Whipped myself up some biscuits, some Canadian bacon, eggs, cheese, regular bacon, and there you have it_ . _”_

 

Dad would wink in the darkness.  Hand him a thermos of coffee, like he was a man, and they’d sit and watch the sun come up together.  Even as recently as two years ago, Dad was still bringing the Sunrise biscuits and coffee (drizzled with chocolate syrup for Levi because as a kid, he found it too bitter.)

 

Now, he doesn’t wanna face anything.  He peeks at the time. 11:29 AM. No one around to watch the sunrise with.  To drink chocolate coffee with. To eat a homemade breakfast sandwich with.

 

His phone tells him someone’s trying to reach him on Facebook video.

 

Levi checks it out, hoping, for the briefest of moments, that it’s Dad.

 

It’s not.  It’s Mariana.

 

Levi takes the call under the blankets with him, not caring if he’s hard to see under there.  All the better.

 

“Happy birthday!” Mariana says.  “Hey, where are you?”

 

“Happy birthday!  Now you and Mariana can date!” Fran crows from somewhere off camera.  “Hey, did your mail come yet?”

 

“Give me a second…” Mariana says and walks into what looks like Jesus’s bathroom.  “What’s up?” she asks. “Are you sick?”

 

Levi tries to talk, but he can’t.  The lump in his throat is too massive.  He hangs up with her and instead types a memo on his phone.  Polos it to her privately. Belatedly, he thinks of all the scrunched up text that she’ll struggle to read.  He deletes it. Resends one sentence at a time:

 

_No one here to watch the sun rise with._

 

_My dad used to sing me happy birthday._

 

_Badly._

 

_Drag me out of bed._

 

_We’d drive, park, watch the sun rise…_

 

_Drink chocolate coffee…_

 

_Eat sun rise biscuits he made himself._

 

_(The only thing he knew how to make, I think)_

 

_And no one did that._

 

_Not this year or last._

 

_I miss him._

 

Mariana reacts with a heart emoji.  Sends a video. “I’m sorry. Wish I’d known.”

 

Levi sends a heart emoji back.  But still, he can’t get out of bed.

 

\--

 

It’s after 3 PM when the mailman arrives, dropping off two boxes.  A good sized one from Jesus, Mariana and Francesca and a smaller one from Dominique.  Pearl finds herself wishing for a tree to set them under. But the kitchen table will have to do.  Nia’s already called asking if they have plans tonight.

 

Pearl assured her they do not.  (The way it’s looking, they might have zero birthday plans.  Levi hasn’t come upstairs yet. She wonders if he’s not feeling well.)

 

Heads downstairs to tap on his door.  “Hey Levi? Happy birthday…”

 

“Happy birthday,” he calls back.  It’s muffled.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“I don’t know…” he answers.  His voice sounds strange.

 

“Can I come in?” she wonders, definitely more concerned now.

 

“If you want...I don’t wanna ruin your birthday, though…” Levi protests.

 

Hesitantly, Pearl pushes his door open.  Spots him - just a lump under the covers.  “Hey…” she says softly, stepping further into the room.  She sets down the Sprite she brought, just in case he’s really not feeling well, and the rest.  “First, there is no way you could ever ruin my birthday. Just you’re being here makes it twenty-thousand times more enjoyable…”  She sits down in his desk chair across the room. Fiddles with the can of pop on the desk. She sees a Dad’s Old Fashioned Root Beer bottle, in the corner of it.  Wonders if it’s a memento from Dad or not related at all.

 

“And that makes me feel worse...because I just realized...I hate my birthday…” Levi manages, still all the way covered up.

 

“Why?” Pearl asks.  “I mean, if you want to share.”

 

“I miss Dad…” he manages, sniffing.

 

Tears well up in Pearl’s eyes.  She wants to run to him. Hug the crap out of him.  But he’s under there for a reason. “I’m so sorry. Of course you do.”

 

“I’ll just live under here until it’s tomorrow, okay?  No, shoot. I can’t.” He sighs. “Guess I have to come out.”

 

“I’m a world-class hiberator, Levi.  I’m the last person to make you come out of anywhere.”

 

“No, but I have your present…” he admits.  “And I can’t give it to you tomorrow, or it’s not the same…”

 

Finally, Levi throws back the sheet.  He’s in sweats and a tee shirt. His nose red.  Eyes puffy. “Here,” he says. “Sorry, I didn’t wrap it.”

 

Pearl takes the plastic bag and shakes it open.  Finds a phone case that will exactly fit her phone, thank God.  How does her brother know she needs this? It only just broke.

 

“Levi, thank you.  That’s so thoughtful.  My other one literally just bit the dust so I can really use this.”  She snaps her phone into it right then.

 

Pearl glances up at him.  And he seems to be waiting for something.  She’s confused, until she happens to glance at the back - the case itself.

 

She gasps.

 

Beaming back at her, there’s her little four-year-old face on the first day of kindergarten.  And even better? There’s Dad, too. It’s her favorite picture, and this way, she gets to keep it with her always.


	26. Dust & Gold

It takes Levi some time to motivate himself to get out of bed.  After Pearl gets done gushing over her phone case, she leaves to give him some space.

 

“I’m getting inspired to do a thing.  Wait. You don’t have any triggers around trees, do you?’

 

“We live in the woods,” Levi points out gently.

 

“Right.  So, that would technically be more me with the woods trigger...but no bad feelings about trees...say...indoors?” she ventures.

 

“Well, I feel kinda bad that they get chopped down, and then die…” Levi admits, still a little shaky.

 

“You have the kindest heart.  And you will not have to worry about tree-injury, or tree-death.  I promise. I’ll let you know when I’m done, but take your time.” Pearl says.

 

The wish to have a tree to put their gifts under has reminded Pearl that just after this past Christmas, when Levi had commented on her lack of a tree, Pearl had seen one on sale on Amazon and bought it on the spot.

 

It’s tiny - probably shorter than the two feet it was advertised as - but a glorious bold purple - which happens to be both of their favorite color.  She sets it up in no time and puts the first framed picture of the two of them together right at the base. It’s small enough to sit on her spare end table.  And she stacks the birthday gifts around it: The boxes from California, plus her own gift to Levi. She’s already snapped her new phone case into place and cannot stop staring at it.  She hopes Levi will not be let down by her gift.

 

Cleo’s sniffing all the presents but barks happily when she sees Levi, waddling over on her stubby legs.

 

“Hey you,” Levi greets, bending down.  Cleo licks his face. Even though he loves Cleo as much as it’s possible to love anything, he’s always respectful and doesn’t touch her while she’s helping Pearl.  Finally, he straightens, blinking at the small tree.

 

“What?” he smiles slowly and comes to inspect it more closely.  It’s nearly dinner time, and Nia will be here soon. Pearl suspects it’s for this reason that Levi’s managed to rally and get out of bed.  He hates to disappoint people, especially his mom.

 

“Is it silly?” Pearl cringes.  “I just thought...we should have a place to put the gifts, and I got this back in January, and I haven’t had a reason to use it yet.  I wanted you to have a tree this next Christmas, but then I thought...birthday tree?” Pearl winces.

 

This is exactly the kind of thing her own mother would mock mercilessly.  Or ignore. Or claim she could do it better. Pearl’s fear of ridicule (and general birthday anxiety) is pretty high.  Even though it’s been two months since she’s seen her, even though they changed the locks, Pearl changed her number and blocked her mother and grandmother’s numbers (and taught Levi to do the same) she still gets anxious at unforeseen moments.  Still has an intense desire to open gifts privately. Wonders if Levi would mind if they did that before Nia arrives.

 

Levi, it turns out, is transfixed by the birthday tree.  He touches it lightly, running his hand over all the purple tinsel.  “No, I love it. I never had one of these before.”

 

“Me neither…” Pearl admits.  “So...confession…” she says as Levi gets comfortable on the floor beside the gifts, studying them.  

 

“Wow, I can’t believe they sent us stuff.  Sorry...what’s your confession?” Levi asks, glancing at Pearl.

 

“Well, I’m trying to tread carefully here.  Because I know there, unfortunately, are places our trauma intersects…”

 

Levi presses his lips together.  The shadows in his eyes get more pronounced as he studies her.  Pearl can tell he’s thinking of Carla, just as she is. “Can you just say the thing without her in it?” he ventures, soft.

 

“Okay...I’m nervous about opening gifts in front of Nia.  Would it be okay if we opened these before she gets here?”

 

“You wanna know if I’m cool with opening gifts  _ early _ ?” he asks, a glimmer of humor on his eyes.  “Yeah, I’d be more than okay with that.”

 

“Hey, Levi…” Pearl says.  “You don’t have to put on a happy face for me.  I get that you miss Dad. You don’t have to minimize that.”

 

“I get it.  But, like, can I do both?  Can I miss him and be happy to celebrate with you?”

 

“You don’t need to ask me for permission.  I’m saying you don’t have to act fine for my benefit.  I understand missing Dad. I miss him, too. In a different way, but I do.”

 

Levi just nods.  Pearl sends Cleo over to cuddle with Levi as they decide which to open first.  In the end, they opt for Pearl’s gift to Levi (as she already opened hers from him.)

 

Pearl watches as he carefully takes off the wrapping paper, and turns over the small frame.  She sees exactly what he does. An old handwriting paper, with wide lines, dated February 12th, 1990 and the carefully printed sentences:

 

_ I really want a little brother.  I will protect him. I will love him very much.  Promise. Love, Pearl. _

 

“No way…” Levi breathes.  “When did you write this?”

 

“I was six,” Pearl tells him, smiling ruefully.  “And I don’t remember writing it, but that’s definitely my handwriting.  Anyway, I wanted you to know...I’ve been thinking about you for a long time, apparently.  Longer than I realized. And I still promise.” 

 

Levi wipes his eyes.  “Can I give you a hug?” he asks, his voice thick.  “It’s cheesy, but I just wanna hang it up in my room.  Or set it on my desk…” 

 

Pearl opens her arms.  “You do whatever you wanna do with it, Levi.  It’s yours.” She squeezes him gently.

 

Finally, he pulls back.

 

“So, you don’t think it’s ridiculous?” Pearl asks.  “I’d gotten all this stuff from Grandma Not-West and this was in there.  And I just...couldn’t help but think of you.”

 

“Pearl, I love it.  Really. I can’t think of anything I wanted more...except…” Levi trails off.

 

“Dad,” they say together.

 

Pearl just sits with Levi for a few minutes, trying not to think of the time.  How it’s slowly edging closer to Nia getting here. How Pearl should be thinking of dinner.  How Levi needs to eat. She told him she didn’t expect him to stuff in his feelings, so she has to stand by that.

 

Eventually, Levi seems ready to move on.  They decide to move onto Dominique’s presents next.  Pearl doesn’t even ask if Levi wants to Polo their friends.  Just the thought of it gives her weird feelings. She knows he has camera sensitivities anyway.  They each take a similarly wrapped and sized gift, labeled with their name. They open it on three, and Pearl loves what she finds:

 

A brand new light blue journal.  Dominique, of course, remembered what had become of her last one.  Not having a place to record her thoughts had been difficult to adjust to - and Pearl just never thought of buying herself another journal.  It seemed frivolous. But receiving one from a friend? That feels more than okay.

 

“Aw, look,” Pearl holds hers out, notices Levi’s own purple journal.

 

“But I don’t write...I mean, I wrote one time and showed Dom, and then I wrote some stuff for Mariana.  But that’s it.”

 

“Maybe it’s an option?” Pearl ventures.  “Maybe Dominique saw you were starting to open up and wanted to give you a way to keep doing that.”

 

“Hmm,” Levi hums.

 

Finally, they get into the big box from Jesus, Mariana and Francesca.  Levi opts for the card from Francesca first. It says happy birthday and it’s signed.  It’s really cute. Then, he pulls out an envelope with a smiling sloth on it. Inside, he finds two homemade plane tickets “to California Avoidance” with a note attached telling them that now they can come to California for their birthday.

 

Pearl decides to open the last envelope from Fran.  When she finds what’s inside this one, Pearl laughs, totally delighted.

 

“Levi, she sent us a perfect spelling test for our fridge,” Pearl holds it out so he can see.”

 

“Pearl, she spelled  _ combustible _ right.  And  _ frightening _ .  And  _ succumb _ .  I’m impressed.  Okay if I hang this up and snap a picture of it for her?” he asks.

 

They decide it would be better if they were both in the picture.  So they smile huge and Levi takes the picture and sends it to the Avoiders Chat with a note saying,  _ THIS IS AWESOME! WE ARE SO IMPRESSED! GO, FRAN! _

 

“Okay, I don’t mean to rush us, but your mom is coming kinda soon and you haven’t eaten at all yet.”

 

“Oh, perfect.  Look what we got from Jesus,” Levi cheers, lifting out the small box and opening it.  “Cabin brownies...I think these are the exact kind you made. I can get into these.”

 

“Oh, my God, I love them so much,” Pearl gushes, taking a picture (with consent) of both of their hands reaching in for brownies.

 

Mariana’s is labeled that it’s to share.  “They’re really taking this twin thing seriously, huh?” Pearl remarks, laughing.

 

“You wanna open it?  I have chocolate fingers,” Levi tells her.

 

So Pearl does, carefully taking the plastic bag from around the rectangular box.  She stares at it, not really comprehending. Until she opens it.

 

“Levi, Mariana sent us California…” Pearl whispers, in awe.  She holds out the box, which is labelled with scents native to SoCal.

 

“Southern California candle.  Ooh. Can we light this? It can be like we’re there with them.”

 

“Let’s do it,” she agrees and lights the candle, puts the journals in the foreground and takes another picture for Avoiders Chat.

 

“I’m gonna pick this up, and then I can feed Cleo,” Levi says, gathering up boxes and wrapping paper.

 

“Okay, drink some water when you come out here, please?  So you don’t get dehydrated?” Pearl calls. “You feel like chicken nuggets?”

 

“I feel like  _ brownies _ ,” Levi tells her, coming out to the kitchen to throw away everything and wash his hands.  Finally, he gets to filling Cleo’s bowl.

 

Pearl fills a glass of water and puts it in front of him.  She’s coaxed him to eat a few chicken nuggets and potato wedges and drink some of the water when Levi’s phone rings once.  Then a horn beeps out front.

 

“That’s Mom,” he’s out of his chair like a shot, and Pearl is on his heels.  She has grown to love spending time with Nia, who is so dissimilar to her own mother.  She actually, strangely, reminds her more of a grandma.

 

“Hi, Nia,” she greets. 

 

“Mom, why do you have Panther in the car?” Levi asks, concerned, leaning down to the open window so the giant all black Great Dane can lick his face.

 

“Well, I talked to Pearl, and we’ve been thinking that you need your own dog,” Nia says, getting out of the car and passing Levi the leash.

 

“But Panther’s not mine, Mom.  She’s yours and Dad’s…”

 

“We got her for you with the intent to pass her along to you when she was trained. She’s lonely with just me in that big old house, and I think I need a smaller pet these days.  Maybe a cat…”

 

“Mom, you are so not a cat person…” Levi manages a smile.  He turns to Pearl. “Are you sure about this? There’s not much room...and you’ve got Cleo.”

 

“I spoke to Pearl at length, honey.  Great Danes can be quite happy in small spaces.  But they can’t be people-deprived.”

 

“And both Cleo and Panther have easy temperaments.  They know each other. We know they get along.”

 

“You’re sure?” Levi checks.

 

“I kinda like the idea of a big dog.  Might make us feel safer out here…” Pearl ventures.

 

“Honey, you grew up with Vader and Hagrid.  You always loved big dogs. Do you still?” Nia asks.

 

“I do.  It’s just...I never thought I’d get my own dog…” Levi mutters, in awe.

 

“I’m so sorry, kids.  I got so busy with your gift, I didn’t have time to do a cake,” Nia apologizes, walking to the cabin.

 

\--

 

Levi’s stunned enough at inheriting Panther from Mom and Dad.  He’s not expecting the giant bag in Mom’s trunk, too.

 

“Seriously, Mom, you did not have to do all this…” Levi insists, grunting as he hefts the bag out of the trunk and into the house.  He sets it under the birthday tree.

 

“Cleo, look, Panther’s here.  You can be sisters! Yay,” Pearl says, looking super happy.  “And Nia, don’t worry about the cake. Jesus sent plenty of brownies.  We’re happy to share. Did you get dinner? We have some leftover chicken and potatoes.”

 

“I’d love some.  So, tell me about your birthday, so far…” Mom asks, as Levi talks to Panther and tires her out before resting his head against her giant body.

 

“It’s been nice,” Pearl begins.

 

“Smells so good in here,” Nia compliments.

 

“That’s the new candle we got from Mariana,” Pearl says, turning it.

 

Mom admires their birthday tree, catches sight of Francesca’s perfect spelling test and goes on and on about how many memories it brings back, of Levi’s perfect spelling tests.

 

“Mom…” he says, blushing.  “Pearl doesn’t wanna hear about that…”

 

“All right,” Mom agrees.  “I don’t wanna embarrass you.  It just takes me right back, you know?  The little skinny papers,” she laughs to herself.

 

They talk a little more before Mom starts to mention wanting to get home before dark.  “Now, both Panther, and this here, are for you both to share. I hope you don’t mind. I couldn’t figure out how to clone the dog on such short notice--”

 

“Oh, thank you so much for the thought, but one Great Dane’s enough,” Pearl reassures laughing.

 

‘--And there are only so many hours in a day to complete things,” Mom finishes.

 

“You want us to open it now?” Levi asks, as Panther licks him.  He casts a glance at Pearl, who nods her okay.

 

“Well, you two do what you like.  You’re both grown people now,” Mom says, proud.

 

“We can open it now,” Pearl reassures.

 

They both take an end of the big gift and Levi finds himself wondering if this is what Mariana and Jesus feel like each birthday.

 

When it’s unwrapped, Levi’s breath catches.  He instantly sees one of Dad’s favorite shirts - white and brown plaid - and it takes him a second to register the bigger picture.

 

The reality that Mom has made them a quilt from Dad’s old shirts.

 

“Oh…” Pearl whispers, touching a red and white plaid square.  “I remember this one…”

 

“He still had a couple hanging in the closet that I figured you might recognize.  No matter how I begged and pleaded he never threw them out. “ _ Nia, these are perfectly good.  Who throws away a perfectly good shirt? _ ”

 

They take some time, studying each square.  Levi, struggling to see through blurry eyes.  “Mom, thank you...so much…” he manages. He stands up from the couch to hug her and the blanket falls to the floor on his side.

 

“You want this hug, right?” Mom asks, and he can’t quite believe that along with everything else, she’s remembered that she promised to check for consent more often.

 

He nods.  And she holds onto him a while.  They’re both crying. Until they hear another soft gasp from behind them.

 

“Oh, my God….”

 

\--

 

Levi turns, flabbergasted to see, that somehow, Pearl’s old Care Bear, Grumpy Bear, has stowed away in the folds of the blanket.

 

“Grumpy Bear?” she asks, incredulous.

 

“I forgot to warn, y’all.  I tucked a few extra things in there Paris would want you to have.  Pearl, he tried to give that bear back to you for years, honey. He knew how much it meant to you.  But Levi kept it safe for a lot of these years until you could get it back.”

 

Pearl’s holding Grumpy to her chest, trying very hard to keep her tears in.  Cleo’s licking her.

 

“Levi, you should have something in there, too.  It’s paper, so be careful the dogs don’t get at it before you can find it.”

 

It doesn’t take him long to find the old notecards.  Faded ink. Folded over. Soft with age. The exact food he had been missing this morning - both recipes are here at his fingertips.  At the top of one, it reads:

 

_ Levi’s Sunrise Birthday Biscuits _

 

And on the next:

 

_ Levi’s Chocolate Birthday Coffee _

 

Levi tucks them in his pocket, as Pearl stands up to hug Mom, feeling, a little bit, like maybe Dad’s here with them after all.


	27. Never Gone

Two days after Pearl and Levi’s birthday is the day Jesus has dreaded most for the last eleven years.  He calls it  _ Isaac’s Last Day _ , because it was - even though neither of them had known it at the time.  Anything else - any attempt to brighten it up or make it seem positive - rub against Jesus like rough side of sandpaper.

 

There’s nothing good about today.  Just, you know, for the record.

 

But Jesus has spent almost a dozen years blaming himself for Isaac’s death, and the truth that it wasn’t Jesus’s fault actually sticks with him for short periods of time now.  Going to the cemetery had helped cement something in Jesus. Given him closure or something.

 

(Maybe knowing that Isaac doesn’t have to spend all the rest of time in His backyard helps…)

 

Bringing the ice cream (and having the idea affirmed by Jaimie) had helped Jesus inch slowly over the past month to embracing the idea he has for today.  He just needs to remember his friends are there for him today. And his sisters. He needs to remember he’s not alone.

 

Jesus wakes up on June 12th, feeling a familiar mix of emptiness and dread.  He goes to the closet in his spare room. Pulls out his backpack from 6th grade where he now keeps all of his Isaac stuff.  The letter Jesus wrote to Isaac’s mom, for Isaac. The picture. The letter from Isaac’s mom. The box of Hostess cupcakes that Pearl (or Levi, it turns out) send fresh every so often.

 

Jesus reads through his language notebook.  The journal he had kept for Mrs. Acevedo’s Language class.  The whole thing written in code, including references to “his cousin, Jacob.”  (Jacob was the alias Isaac was forced to adopt in captivity, just like Jesus had been forced to take the name Josh.)

 

Looking at the old journal, Jesus is struck by just how innocent the old entries had seemed.  How normal, even. That was the idea. Since He saw everything and nothing was ever really private, Jesus had been forced to write in a way that made everything seem normal.  The name of the game Then had been fitting in. Not drawing any attention to himself.

 

And he had done it.  Jesus had done too good a job.

 

He flips a page, reading an undated entry that just says  _ After _ :

 

_ My cousin had to leave I am bummed. Don’t know what to do without him.  I keep checking his room in case he’s there but he’s not. So weird that after almost 6 months he is just gone. _

 

_ I am not doing to well. _

 

That had been an understatement.  Losing Isaac the way he had caused Jesus’s self harm to really become a thing.  It felt like he spent that whole summer sleeping. Jesus barely remembers any of it.

 

He shuts the notebook as he hears his phone chime with a Polo.  Jesus is glad for the distraction.

 

“Hey, it’s Pearl.  Oh my God, duh. You know that.  I’m right in front of your face. Anyway.  I’m checking in because I have a _ J _ on my calendar today.  Need anything? If you do, I’m here.” Pearl promises.

 

Jesus presses Start to send a video back: “The distraction was great.  Thanks. And thanks for remembering. So...I’m thinking of doing this thing today?  Half-memorial, half-celebration? Can I get your honest take? I need to know if it’s in terrible taste…”

 

Before Pearl can respond, another Polo comes through.  Jesus sees the small red NEW in the corner of Levi’s profile pic (Cleo.)

 

“I couldn’t help overhearing, since I’m in the kitchen and Pearl’s in the living room, that you need distractions today.  Thought seeing this beauty couldn’t hurt,” he aims the camera at a giant black dog that looks more like a horse. “This is Panther.  A birthday present from my mom...and my dad, technically. I think Pearl had more to do with it than she’s admitting,” Levi grins. “Just look at this face,” he croons as Panther licks him with her giant tongue.

 

Jesus actually finds himself smiling as he hits Start.  “Dude, Panther is one major distraction. She’s awesome.  You doing okay? Mari mentioned you were kinda having a hard time..”

 

Levi Facebook video chats, so there is no delay.  “Yeah, well, you know, maybe...how it is? When it’s a day you’re just used to having somebody there, and they’re just...not…”

 

Jesus sighs.  “That day’s today, man.  I remember every single thing about today up to a point.  And then I just don’t remember anything. For, like months.”

 

“Yeah, everything was kinda blurry for me afterward.  For, like, a long time.” Levi admits.

 

Jesus tells Levi he’ll be right back and then sends a Polo to Pearl, detailing his thoughts for today and if she and Levi would be up for being in on it.

 

“Definitely.  We’re free all day, so we’ll make sure we’re set and we’ll be here when you call.  I don’t think it’s in terrible taste at all, by the way. I know a bit about the bond you two shared.  And what you’re suggesting? Goes right along with that.”

 

“Thanks, Pearl.  Call you in a bit.”

 

\--

 

“I’m so excited to go to Isaac’s Ice Cream Celebration, aren’t you?” Fran asks, breathless, in the kitchen at home.

 

“So this thing at Avoidance?” Mariana begins.  “You know it’s not like a birthday party…” she ventures as she holds the freezer door ajar for Francesca to gather all four of the pints of Haagen Dazs.  (Mom’s in a rare good mood, and encourages them to “take it all away.” They don’t need to be told twice.)

 

“What to you mean?” Fran asks, stretching to reach the Banana Peanut Butter Chip and balance it with the Espresso Chocolate Cookie Crumble and the Caramel Cone and the Pineapple Coconut.  It’s a lot for her to juggle.

 

Mariana closes the freezer and offers a hand.  (Her right. Her left hates touching frozen stuff…)  She snags the Pineapple Coconut that’s about to fall.  “I mean...it’ll be fun because there’s ice cream...but it’s more serious.  Because it’s for Jesus to remember his friend.”

 

“Isaac,” Fran says, nodding.  “I know, because he was Jesus’s family when he couldn’t be with us.  It’s sad Isaac didn’t live.”

 

“It is,” Mariana confirms.  “So, this is more...regular Avoidance meeting but with ice cream...and extra support for Jesus,” Mariana clarifies.

 

“Got it,” Fran nods.  “I don’t wanna make Jesus feel bad today.  Or any day, but especially not today.”

 

Luckily, for their ice cream, Dominique’s waiting for them in the driveway.  She makes several trips. First for the ice cream and then to offer Fran and Mariana a hand down the steps.

 

“Still can’t be bothered to put in that railing?” Dominique remarks when they’re all in the car.  “Your moms. Not you.”

 

“We haven’t...really asked…” Mariana admits.

 

“You shouldn’t  _ have to _ ask,” Dominique remarks.  “It’s safety. It’s a basic need.”

 

“You okay?” Mariana asks as Fran studies each ice cream container in detail (having been told not to open them before the party starts.)

 

“Just one of those days…” Dominique remarks.  “Got asked what happened like twice at work today…  I work at a hospital. You’d think they’d have manners about that kind of thing.”

 

“Nobody has _ manners _ ,” Fran interjects from the back seat in a funny voice.  “What are those?!”

 

Mariana offers a small smile to Dominique, and finally, she smiles, too.

 

“You got that right, Fran,” Dominique manages.  “Needless to say? I’m really in the mood for some ice cream…”

 

\--

 

Dudley and Jesus are waiting when Francesca, Mariana and Dominique get to Avoidance.  He already has Levi and Pearl on Facebook video. His phone is propped up on the table like they’re right here in California.

 

“Hey guys!” Pearl greets.  “Wow! That’s a lot of ice cream!” she exclaims.

 

“Oh, no.  We forgot spoons…” Francesca objects.

 

“We got ‘em…” Levi says and he’s halfway off the couch before Jesus calls him back.

 

Everyone laughs because it is kind of funny that Levi forgot they weren’t all together like they used to be at the cabin.  But then the thought of that makes Fran a little bit sad.

 

“It’s cool.  I brought a bunch, just in case.  Jesus sets them out, with napkins.

 

“Jesus, what kind do you want?” Fran asks, trying to think of him extra since he’s sad today.  (Still, she hopes Jesus will see the heart she drew on the lid of the Banana Peanut Butter Chip.)

 

Luckily, he picks Caramel Cone.  Then, Fran can’t resist anymore and claims the best flavor.  Mariana takes the Espresso Chocolate one. And Dominique says she’s gonna love Pineapple Coconut, even though it sounds gross to Francesca.

 

They open their ice creams and start eating.  It’s quiet and delicious.

 

“What kind of ice cream do you and Levi have?” Fran asks Pearl, curious.

 

“We have...Moose Tracks...for me.” Pearl offers licking her spoon.

 

“And regular old strawberry for me.  I didn’t get the memo it was a fancy flavors thing…” Levi says, even though he seems to like strawberry ice cream, by the smile on his face.

 

“It’s not.  Just what we had on hand.  That Mom wanted us to get rid of,” Mariana passes along.

 

Francesca’s nervous to act too happy or relieved to be out of the house and at Avoidance.  Even with Mom in a good mood, it’s still more weird than it is good. Like, it just makes Fran more on-guard than relaxed.

 

But here, with her Avoiders, she  _ can _ relax.  

 

Fran can see by Jesus’s face that he’s sad.  And she doesn’t want to mess up and accidentally make him sadder.  She’s scared to mention Isaac’s name even. But it feels weird not to.

 

“Jesus, are you hanging in there?” Levi asks.

 

That’s such a good question.  It reminds Fran of one she asked Levi when she found out his dad had been his best friend, but then he’d died.

 

“Did you and Isaac have favorite things you did together?” Fran asks.

 

Jesus glances at her, and his eyes are so sad.  “It wasn’t really like that, buddy. Not a lot of fun stuff happened…”

 

“Oh…” Fran says, glancing down at the table.  She chops at her ice cream with her spoon. “Sorry.”  She feels so bad inside for accidentally hurting Jesus.  She tries to remember the thing Pearl taught her about consciences but it doesn’t help much right now.  She bites the inside of her lip.

 

“But I’m hanging in there, kind of.  It helps having you here. And doing this.  And we used to...I guess this might count as a favorite thing…  We did this thing where we’d ask each other questions about what we’d do or food we’d have, if we could ever get out of there.”

 

Dominique gets a funny look on her face.  Almost like she wants to say something. Only she asks, “Like what?”

 

“Well, a big one was going outside.  We really wanted to do that,” Jesus remembers.

 

“You couldn’t go outside, even?” Francesca asks, confused.  “But how did you go to school?”

 

“I think he means, to play,” Mariana says, soft.  “You know how you can pretty much go outside and play when you want to?”

 

“Recess at school?” Fran asks.

 

“Didn’t feel comfortable playing...and Isaac, he didn’t get to go out at all.  Not even to school,” Jesus shares sadly.

 

“Did he want to?  ‘Cause not to be rude, but I might like it if I didn’t have to go to school…” Fran ventures.

 

“Not as much as you think.  Home with Moms all day…” Mariana sighs.

 

“Oh, right,” Fran nods.  “When somebody takes something away from you without asking it’s different than choosing it for yourself, right?” 

 

“That’s right,” Jesus nods.  “On this day...well Before...we talked about food...and he talked about how he wanted a huge ice cream sundae more than anything else.  It’s one of the last things we talked about...so…”

 

“So, Isaac might think this was pretty cool…” Dominique raises her eyebrows.

 

“I think so.  Beats blaming myself every year.  Which is still a thing. But, you know…”

 

“Everything’s better with ice cream,” Levi offers.  “Hey, what do you guys think of Panther?”

 

“Scary,” Fran admits.  

 

“Aw, really?” Levi answers.  “I didn’t know you were afraid of dogs.”

 

“I’m not.  Usually. Just...Panther looks kind of like a wolf…” Fran says, unsure.  

 

“She’s not a wolf.  And wolves get a bad rep,” Levi reassures.  “She’s so sweet. She’d love you. She’s like Dudley.  But bigger.”

 

“Dudley’s hiding under the table,” Fran points out.  “He gets scared of other dogs, too, even Cleo, remember?”

 

“Yeah, I do,” Pearl says.  “It might take a little while to get used to Panther, for you and Dudley both, but I have confidence in you.”

 

“So, how’s everybody else doing?” Jesus asks.

 

“Work sucked,” Dominique offers.  “Got accosted by the new head of plastics at UCSD.  ‘ _ Burn scars?  Have you ever considered plastic surgery?  I could operate so you wouldn’t even see most of these _ …”

 

“Wow…” Levi breathes like he’s annoyed.  “Did you tell him where to shove his questions?”

 

Fran tries to keep listening but she can’t help but watch when she sees a boy her age with brownish curly hair and glasses.  He’s walking with lime green crutches and has who might be his dad with him.

 

Before she can think about it, Fran slides right under the table.  There’s not a lot of room under there, with all the feet, and Dudley, but Fran’s small.

 

“What’s up, babe?” Dominique checks, peeking under the table.

 

“I don’t want that boy to see me…” she admits in a whisper. 

 

Dominique glances around, but not in a super obvious way.  She ducks her head back under to check with Fran again. “Why not?”

 

“Because...it just makes me feel weird inside.  I don’t know. Moms always make comments, or, like, go up and talk to the parents of the other kid.  Or act like we should be best friends just because we both have disabilities.”

 

“Ah, well, we’re Avoiders.  We don’t do that. You wanna sit at the table again?” she tries.

 

“No.  What if he notices me?” Fran worries.

 

“What are you concerned about?” Dominique asks about the same time that Pearl wonders where Fran went.

 

“What if he sees how I walk and asks me about it?” Fran wonders.

 

“I think he probably knows a thing or two about how that feels. So he probably wouldn’t ask you about that.”

 

“Well, what if I wanted to talk to him?” Fran admits, quiet.

 

“I think that would make sense.” Dominique nods.

 

“What would you say?” Fran asks.

 

“Well, what do  _ you _ wanna say?” Dominique says back.

 

“That I like his crutches…” Fran admits.

 

“I think that’d be a good start,” Dominique encourages.

 

But by the time Fran comes out from under the table, the boy with the green crutches and his dad are gone.

 


	28. Jurassic Park Theme

They’re scraping the bottoms of their ice cream containers.  Jesus, and Mariana, Pearl and Levi. Fran has left about half of hers behind.  Jesus is working on Fran’s now. While Mariana offers to taste Dominique’s.

 

She willingly gives her carton up.  Only half-listening as Jesus brings up his ongoing inner-conflict about being in contact with his former teacher.  About the email from the school nurse.

 

It aggravates her that he has these kinds of problems.  And she could never admit as much to him. Not full scale.  Not if she wants to keep the friendship (which she does.)

 

Dominique knows, no matter how euphonic incidental music might be, it doesn’t change the fact that maybe dinosaurs are attacking children on screen.  (Maybe children are losing their friends. Maybe children are losing  _ their own children _ …)

 

It’s why Dominique can’t really taste the ice cream she’s eating.  Why she’d rather duck beneath the table right now and talk to Fran about how to make friends with a kid with a disability - maybe for the first time.

 

Dominique will never say as much to Jesus, but she can’t abide things like this: an ice cream party to honor a dead child.  She finds it pointless. An exercise in denial. And deeply painful.

 

So much so, that Dominique can’t help but think back to two weeks after they all got home.  To the rest of The Avoiders, it was just another day she couldn’t get out of bed. But for Dominique it was so, so much more than that.

 

It was ten years past her baby’s approximated due date.  April 26th. And of The Avoiders? Only Francesca even knows she was ever even pregnant.  It’s not something she knows how to even begin to bring up to the rest of them. The idea of celebrating that day had felt obscene.

 

Only Mom knows about the day.  (Okay, so Dad might, too) but it’s only Mom who she allows close.

 

_ She’s trying to sleep the entire day away.  But she only succeeds until 12:40 when Mom knocks.  When Lena asks if she wants her Mom to come in.  _

 

_ Dominique can’t say anything.  Can’t confirm or deny anything.  Can only feel the aching emptiness that no one else even knows exists.  The crushing guilt that - at the right moment - might eat her alive. _

 

_ She feels dead inside.  Had no idea that all these years later, it could still hurt this much. _

 

_ “Babe?” Mom asks. _

 

_ Dominique doesn’t move.  Can’t speak. But she thinks, “It’s my fault.”  Her inner twelve-year-old is strong today. Sure.  That it is actually all her fault. _

 

_ “I did this…” she croaks in a dry, flat voice.  “She’s not here, ‘cause of me.” _

 

_ Mom just listens.  She’s climbed the ladder again.  Always shocks Dominique when she does that.  She’s lying beside the lump in the covers that is Dom. _

 

_ “I know you wanted to save her,” Mom murmurs sympathetic.  “You did the best you could. The best anybody could’ve done.” _

 

_ “I thought the police were coming,” Dominique admits, soft.  “They were gonna hurt Roberta, and I thought. The cops will be there.  And if I do everything right, I can go home to you and Dad...but…” her voice breaks. _

 

_ “But you didn’t know,” Mom reassures.  “You didn’t know what that man was gonna do.  All you could do was trust you gut. And your gut led you to protect the woman who was protecting you.  That man is to blame, babe. Not you.” _

 

_ “Yes, I am!” Dominique insists, her voice thick, muffled under the blankets.  “When I didn’t come home after cheer practice that day, did you say “Oh, it’s a bad person’s fault?” _

 

_ “You’re right,” Mom sighs.  “I did blame myself. Of course, I did.  It’s my job to protect you.” _

 

_ “It was mine to protect  _ her,”  _ Dominique says, broken.  “And I didn’t do that.” _

 

_ “Dominique.  You saved yourself, babe.  If you had stayed? You’d both be gone, but you survived.” Mom tries, breathing deep to keep her own tears in check. _

 

_ “But I miss her…” Dominique sobs.  “And I get that it’s messed up and I shouldn’t ‘cause it’s terrible how I got her but..she saved me, Mommy.  She gave me the courage to try to escape. But I couldn’t…do it back…” _

 

_ It’s strange, the talking about it.  Because they never have. But right now?  It’s like Dominique has to. The words have to get out.  And luckily, Mom doesn’t insist she stuff them back in. _

 

_ Mom doesn’t say anything, actually.  ‘Cause there’s nothing to say. But she stays.  Like usual, she stays all day long. Tries to get Dominique to eat some of Jesus’s cookies, but Dominique doesn’t want anything.  Mom can barely get her to drink water, but she keeps trying. _

 

_ Stays all night and into the next day. _

 

_ No Avoiders came.  She couldn’t stand it if they came. _

 

_ Taylor grew inside her.  How can she explain a loss like that?  None of them are mothers. None are parents.  None would get it. Mom comes as close as anybody. _

 

_ And even then, there are moments when Dominique wants to push her away.  Hard. _

 

_ But Mom stays, because she says that’s what Moms do. _

 

_ It makes her wish she and Taylor could have stayed together. _

 

_ \-- _

 

After?  None of The Avoiders asked.  She would’ve been terrified if they had.  She’s always felt there’s more propensity for her to blamed for this.  It’s just how she feels - how she’s always felt. 

 

She can’t really comprehend Jesus claiming a strange kid he only knew about a few months as his brother. He has so little information about him.  Really couldn’t get to know him at all, given the conditions they were in.

 

Dominique gets it, a little.  She wasn’t the only girl. The rest were older.  Some of them didn’t make it. But Dominique couldn’t afford to cry over it when they died or got beat up.  

 

She can’t afford to crack herself open - to let them see when she’s at her most vulnerable.  Only Mariana’s ever seen her when she really struggled. Fran’s seen her with her guard lowered a handful of times.  But it’s not the same as how she is in April. In August. In October.

 

For the first time in months, Dominique finds herself struggling against real jealousy.  Jesus has ready support here. He’s been able to move on. Or through. Or whatever it is that’s expected.

 

Even though their losses happened at roughly the same time, Dominique feels stalled.  Stuck. Isaac had died only two months before Dominique first suspected her pregnancy and made a break for it.  (Only two months before Taylor died, too…) They’d both been twelve. And yet, Jesus seems so much further along than she is.

 

It’s easier to talk about the ass of a plastic surgeon.  To let them think that is what’s put her on edge today and not the reality that Jesus can take the space and time and grieve in the way he needs to over a boy he barely even knew.  When it’s ten-plus years after Dominique’s due date and she still feels like she can’t draw a deep breath.

 

\--

 

“No fair, I didn’t even get to talk to him,” Fran pouts.  She can’t see the boy with the green crutches anywhere now.

 

“Well, maybe he’ll be back,” Dominique offers, sounding distracted.

 

Francesca finally crawls out from under the table.  Offers her hand to Dominique. Maybe they can go somewhere, just them, and talk, without making Jesus sadder.

 

Luckily, Dominique takes her hand.  Walks with her over to a bench that’s at the edge of Avoidance.  They’ve sat here before. It still feels the same. Good. Private.  Someplace for just them.

 

“Michael Smith, in my class?  He called you stupid and ugly that day after you helped me talk to them about CP.” Fran can see Dominique wince at the words. Feels bad that she said them, but also has wanted Dominique to know the whole story.  It’s felt weird that she doesn’t. “I said  _ he _ was.  That’s how I got in trouble and grounded and all that…” Fran admits.

 

Dominique glances at Fran, surprised.  It covers up the wince mostly, but not all the way.

 

“That’s the day Mom said I’d go to jail…” Fran ventures.  “I still think about that sometimes. Just like I still think about Mom saying she didn’t want a sixth kid…”

 

“She said what?” Dominique asks, hurt.

 

“On her birthday,” Fran shrugs.  “I gave her the card that said I didn’t think she was a safe person, and she was all drunk.  Whatever…”

 

“Not whatever.  Those things are so hard to hear...especially from your mom.” Dominique offers.

 

“I’m used to it mostly...just…  You know how things scare you sometimes?  Like at the cabin a couple times you got scared, and I helped you?” Fran asks.

 

“I remember,” Dominique nods.

 

“Well...how long does it take before that stops?  Like...it’s been almost a month? And I still get fluttery inside when I think about what Mom said.  About going to jail.”

 

“Babe, I don’t know if that ever stops…” Dominique admits.  It’s quiet a second. And then she keeps going. “I feel like I should’ve been more clear with you when you asked me about trauma after you were grounded.”

 

Francesca pulls up the right side of her leggings so she can see her knee.  The scar is there just like Jesus said it would be. She touches it and shivers.  It feels different than the rest of her knee now. More sensitive.

 

“It does sound like trauma to me.  Your reaction to your mom? That did sound like trauma,” Dominique says.  “I’m still not a doctor. And I didn’t wanna scare you before by telling you I thought you had trauma on top of everything else...but..”

 

“But I was just trying to fit it…” Francesca ventures, still studying her scar.

 

“What do you mean, Fran?” Dominique asks.

 

“Well, Moms acted like I way overreacted?  You know like the next day? Mariana or Jesus must’ve mentioned something, because Mom came over and hugged me and kind of laughed.  And said, ‘ _ Honey, don’t read into everything, okay?  You overreact and work yourself up. Jail’s like a timeout for adults _ .   _ I meant to scare you a little, with the idea of a timeout, that’s all… _ ’  And I don’t think I  _ was  _ overreacting.  From what Mama told me and you and Jaimie and everybody else who tells me stuff about police…”

 

“So, you were trying to fit it?” Dominique asks again.

 

“Yeah, into the thing where a reaction makes sense if the situation is scary enough and all that.  Like trauma.”

 

“Ah, you were trying to fit it into a context that made sense,” Dominique realizes.  

 

“And to feel like I fit somewhere.  That I’m not just an overreacting kid who gets blamed for stuff I can’t help…”  Fran can’t stop staring at the scar on her knee. She touches it with her fingernail.  It makes her shiver.

 

“Let’s look somewhere else,” Dominique suggests.

 

Fran glances up at her.  “Why?”

 

“Because I don’t want you negative-coping when I could’ve helped you stop,” Dominique says honestly.

 

“I didn’t,” Fran objects.

 

“Right, and I wanna keep it that way.  Keep you safe. When you start to feel yourself super-focused in on an injury, and you’re talking about trauma, it’s a good time to be extra safe.”

 

Fran shrugs.  “I still don’t know where else to look.”

 

“Maybe the trees?” Dominique suggests.  “I like the pink ones best.”

 

Fran runs her fingers over her scar again  and again. Likes the smoothness of it even though she hates Michael for making her fall.

 

Dominique slips her own hand into Fran’s and squeezes.  She’s allowed when it’s for safety. Fran doesn’t feel unsafe, but she does trust Dominique.  And she likes holding hands. 

 

She squeezes back.

 

“Is Pearl still calling to talk to Stef?” Dominique asks.

 

“Not as much now.  Because I think they fought about the thing with the pictures on Jesus and Mariana’s birthday.”

 

“Ah…  Do you feel better when Pearl calls?” Dominique asks.

 

“Kind of?  It usually puts Mom in a better mood, but I think it’s good she’s not called as much lately.  Because I think any Avoider stuff makes Moms irritated. P.S. I’m not really that happy.”

 

“P.S.S.  Me, neither.  So, I’d say, we’re in good company,” Dominique says.

 

And somehow, Francesca feels a little better.


	29. Holding On And Letting Go

Truth?

 

Jesus is relieved when Dominique takes Fran off by themselves to talk.  

 

It’s not that he doesn’t love the hell out of his little sis.  (He does.) It’s that he can’t really be as honest as he can be with the rest of the grown Avoiders.  And he needs some truth time right now.

 

“Hey.  Where’d Fran go?” Pearl asks.

 

“And Dominique?” Levi wonders.

 

“Oh, Fran saw a little kid with crutches and kinda didn’t know what to do…” Jesus passes along.  “I think Dom just took her aside to talk.”

 

“What do you mean she didn’t know what to do?’ Pearl asks, confused.  “It’s just a kid like her.”

 

“Except it’s not…” Mariana puts in.  “I’ve known Frankie had CP since I was thirteen...and I don’t think I’ve ever seen another kid with it.”

 

“I never had heard of it before I met her,” Pearl admits.  “Back when she was four, I thought her walk was purposeful.” she explains to Levi, regretful.  “That she was being intentionally silly. Mocking someone.”

 

“Yeah, I remember that.” Jesus breathes.

 

“You didn’t tell her, did you?” Levi checks.

 

“No, but I told Jesus,” Pearl admits.  “You weren’t very happy with me,” she says, looking to Jesus.  “Rightly so. But I still don’t understand why she’d hide…”

 

“Maybe she wouldn’t if Moms didn’t insist they bring her up to any kid randomly out in public who’s disabled.  Insist they talk. Like, any kid, any age, any disability. It’s never CP. I think this kid...he maybe has it, too.  And maybe it was a lot? Anyway, Fran and Dom are over there. So, let’s not talk about them…” Mariana says. She focuses on him:  “Jesus?”

 

“What?” he asks, distracted.  Dudley nudges him.

 

“You look distant,” Pearl observes.

 

“Just thinking…” he admits knowing that Pearl probably knows the most about this anniversary.  She knows the gritty details. Mariana knows a bit less. Levi knows almost nothing, but Jesus feels more comfortable with him being here now that he’s of age.

 

“Not blaming?” Pearl checks.

 

“I mean, yeah...if I’m being honest…” Jesus says.  “I think I’m always gonna blame myself? Hard not to.  Even if I know, logically, it wasn’t really my fault? It’s always gonna feel like it.  Sorry, Levi, I don’t feel like going into massive detail right now…”

 

“Hey, I’m not asking,” Levi insists, serious.  “I’ll listen if you wanna tell me, but you don’t have to.  I get it.”

 

“It’s just...sometimes I hate being the one who made it?  Not that I wanna die, or I wish it had been me? Just...I wish he could’ve lived…”

 

“That makes sense.” Pearl says.

 

“Survivor’s guilt,” Mariana nods.

 

“Yeah…” Jesus nods.  “Like...sometimes it still feels wrong...to be here...when he’s not.  You know it’s the sounds that are the worst? The listening? The knowing exactly what he went through…”

 

Mariana, Pearl and Levi are quiet.  Just listening.

 

“It was a dumb idea to have ice cream today...I just...wanted it to mean something other than what it does.  I want him to know that I remember how much he wanted ice cream. And I wanted something that Fran could join in with.  Not just me telling horror stories, you know?”

 

“You don’t owe us an explanation,” Pearl reassures.

 

“No, but I think...it’s hard on Dominique?” he ventures, glancing at the bench where she and Francesca are still sitting.  “She’s acting triggered.”

 

“Then she probably is,” Mariana points out.  “Trauma...it doesn’t… It’s not perfect. It doesn’t stay where you put it, in a box, forever.  If you take the lid off the box, it spreads. It can bump into someone else’s trauma. Knock over their box.”

 

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Jesus mutters, irritated.

 

“We know that,” Pearl tells him.  “No one’s blaming you. I think Mariana’s just pointing out that trauma’s messy.  And that maybe it’s not a bad idea to look out for each other, especially if we suspect some of us are having trouble.”

 

“It matters.  What you’re going through, though.  Nobody’s saying to put it back in the box,” Levi adds.

 

“Definitely not,” Pearl insists.

 

Jesus looks at Mariana, expectant.

 

“Jesus, I never said you should.  I said that because you said she’s  _ acting _ triggered.  ...Which, sounds a lot like  _ acting out _ to me…  Sounded maybe like you were saying it wasn’t...like...whatever…”

 

“That Dominique being triggered wasn’t legitimate,” Levi fills in.  “‘Cause maybe she was just  _ acting _ triggered?” 

 

“Yeah,” Mariana nods.

 

“Well, that’s my bad.  I misspoke. It’s just hard that our stuff is so similar that she like, needs space from me…” Jesus remarks.  “I don’t need space from her.”

 

“To be fair, though, you don’t really know that for sure.  Because Dominique’s a different person than you. She’s more private,” Pearl points out.  “Chances are, if she shared details with you as freely as you do with her? You might need space from her.”

 

“So, what?  I should just shut up?” Jesus asks, hurt.

 

“No, I didn’t say that,” Pearl counters.  She pauses for a breath. Jesus takes one too.  “I’m saying it’s good to be aware of each other.  Maybe ask how everybody feels about a certain thing…if they’re open to it.”

 

“Like, Pearl always asks me before she talks about her mom…” Levi ventures.  “I appreciate that a lot. ‘Cause I know her mom was a big part of her life. And I do wanna hear from her and know if she’s having a hard time…  It just...means a lot that you think of me…” Levi tells Pearl.

 

“I do my best,” Pearl tells him, uncomfortable with the praise.

 

“She _ showed up _ , though,” Jesus objects softly, his mind still on Dominique.

 

“Maybe she didn’t wanna be alone?” Levi offers.  “We really don’t know.”

 

“I get that it’s consent, so I should totally be on board for that...but like...I really needed this today, and all of you...so what if I asked and everybody said no?  Then I’d be alone. And I don’t want that either.”

 

“It’s complicated…” Pearl ventures.  “But there are always going to be five of us here for you, seven, if you count Dominique’s parents.  Chances are good that someone will come through. That’s the beauty of having so many people to reach out to.”

 

“I just...don’t like being told that I’m too much for someone…” Jesus admits.  “‘Cause I’ve gotten used to that…”

 

“You’re never too much for me…” Mariana tells him.  “You can always share. I want you to.”

 

“But what about all your stuff?” Jesus asks.  “I mean, you don’t need mine on top of it?”

 

“How do you know?” Mariana objects lightly.  “Maybe I do need it. Maybe your sharing with me  _ is  _ what lets me know I’m not alone.”

 

“You can always share with me, too,” Jesus replies.  “About anything. I wanna listen.”

 

Mariana nods.  “We’re not...trying to reject each other...it’s just…  Everyone’s different. We all need different things. Accommodations.”

 

“That makes more sense,” Jesus nods.

 

Dominique and Francesca come walking back toward them just about then.  And Jesus takes the opportunity to apologize. “Hey, I’m sorry, Dominique.”

 

“What?  For what?” she asks, confused.

 

“Triggering you?” he asks.

 

“Wait.   _ You  _ were triggered?” Fran asks, incredulous.  “You seemed really good and fine.”

 

“That’s what it can look like…” Dominique admits.

 

“Anyway, I’ll ask next time…  To be sure we’re all cool...before I start in…” Jesus tell Dominique, and the rest of them.

 

Dominique nods and sits down opposite of Jesus and Mariana.  Francesca sits next to her.

 

“I was kinda holding back…” Francesca admits, putting her hand up, shyly.  It’s a thing she did back when Avoidance first became a thing. When she was first learning about it.

 

“What do you mean, buddy?” Jesus asks.

 

“‘Cause, like...I know you’re really sad today, and I didn’t wanna make you sadder so I was holding back on my real feelings and just...well..acting happy,” Fran admits.

 

“Isn’t the whole idea of Avoidance that we can be our true selves?” Levi asks.  “That we don’t have to play a role?”

 

“I guess I’ve just been used to it.  From being around Moms…” Fran admits.  “They want me to be happy all the time and if I’m not, they get mad.  Even if they’re mean to me. So it’s like...I’m faking it there. At school.  That’s most of the day.”

 

“What have you been holding back?  Do you wanna share?” Jesus asks.

 

“I mean...if you’re okay…” Francesca ventures looking at him and at Dominique in turn.  

 

They both nod.

 

“I feel sad, I guess.  Sad and scared. Like a lot of the time.  Like trauma feelings,” Fran admits not looking at them.  “And this...kinda feels like my first trauma thing. You know...all the things that happened at school last month?  Being pushed down, going to the principal, being handled--” 

 

“What do you mean,  _ being handled _ ?” Levi asks, his eyes dark.

 

“Like, you probably know, Pearl.  From your mom. See, I went to sit down one place, and Mama came and got me under the arms and walked me to the couch to sit there.  Made me walk. I cried when she did that. I didn’t like her in my space.”

 

Levi looks away from them.  Pets Panther. He doesn’t look back for a long time.

 

“I know…” Mariana nods, sympathetic.  “We don’t, either.”

 

“Anyway, it’s my first trauma thing?  That and like…Mom saying I’d go to jail...and I don’t really know what to do…” Francesca ventures, nervous.

 

“I think you’re doing it right now,” Pearl encourages.  “You’re sharing with safe people about how you really feel.  That’s an important step. And a hard one.”

 

“But I don’t know how to  _ have _ trauma…” Fran objects.  “Like. what do you  _ do _ ?”

 

“I think one major thing is to treat yourself really gently,” Jesus offers.  “Like, you know how you feel about baby sloths?”

 

Francesca grins.  “That they’re adorable and I love them so much?”

 

“Right.  So, you treat yourself the way you would a baby sloth.  Would you blame a baby sloth for making an honest mistake?  Or hurt it? Or call it names? Or ignore its feelings?” Jesus asks.

 

“No…” Francesca breathes, looking horrified at the idea.

 

“No,” Jesus confirms.  “So, do your best not to do those things to yourself.  Especially when you’re already having a hard time.”

 

“That’s really good advice,” Levi comments.

 

“Slothcesca!” Fran announces.  “That’s going to be my inner-sloth name!  What do you guys think?”

 

“Sounds perfect,” Jesus smiles.  “I just want you to know,” he says, looking at them all in turn, “that I really appreciate you showing up for me today.”

 

“You’re welcome, buddy,” Francesca smiles back.

 

Dominique nods a little.  Jesus feels like she’s still more than a little distant, but he tries to think of it in terms of accommodations she might need that she’s not been getting, instead of as a personal slight that she doesn’t want to tune into him.

 

“Still trying to figure out if…  Wait, is everybody cool if I talk about the whole teacher thing?  That came from the picture thing?” Jesus asks.

 

They all nod.

 

“So...Mrs. Smith has still been DMing me pretty consistently.  We’ve been in touch quite a bit. It’s cool to talk to her. Weird, but cool.  She lives around here now and has been asking about meeting up somewhere. She’s not exactly a stranger, but like…  What would you guys do? I’m not too big on public places since the news broke recently and with the recent pic out there everybody knows what I look like…but I also don’t feel one-hundred percent comfortable having her in my space.”

 

“Is there somewhere less public that you can meet?  Like a middle ground?” Pearl asks.

 

“And maybe take one of us with you,” Levi adds.

 

“Oh!  Jesus!  Take me!  Because I’m a fifth grader - well, I  _ was _ a fifth grader!  And she’s a fifth grade teacher!  So, I’d totally know if she’s still nice or not!” Francesca insists.

 

“Thanks for the offer, buddy.  I’ll keep that in mind. I still need a place to meet, though.  ‘Cause I would like to talk to her. To see her again. But I’m kinda nervous, too…”

 

“Don’t rush into anything,” Mariana advises.  “We’ve got your back, and there’s time. We can figure this out together.”


	30. Pretending

Laura Elizabeth Smith parks outside the Coffee Corner, a little hole in the wall coffee shop she’d never even known existed. She, her husband, and three kids had just moved out here earlier this month for her husband’s job, so she can’t be expected to know all the local spots.

 

Not as well as someone who has lived here all his life.

 

Well--almost.

 

It’s a little surreal that Laura Elizabeth is about to walk into a coffee shop and sit down with a former student. 

 

Yes, it happened, from time to time.  (The older they got, the older she felt.)  But this is different and Laura Elizabeth knows it.  She glances down at her phone screen for the ongoing list that she’s kept since May.  Of things to keep in mind. Some were obvious breaches of trust that she would never make.  Others, she might never have thought of on her own:

 

**_Leave phone in the car_ **

**_No hug / handshake_ **

**_No social media about meeting up_ **

**_No news interviews_ **

 

Then, she takes a deep breath, gets out of the car, and prepares to walk inside.

 

It’s late July.  And a surprisingly comfortable seventy-six degrees.  She could get used to this.

 

The place is cute, and nearly empty.  A couple girls sit at one of the tables.  But no one else. She’s beginning to think she’s in the wrong place when the younger one gets up and approaches her.

 

“Hi.  Um...are you Mrs. Smith?” she asks, shy.

 

Laura Elizabeth squats (because this kid is 4’2” if she’s an inch.)  “Yes, I am. Do I know you?” she asks, feeling more at ease. Kids are so much easier to talk to than adults.

 

“No.  Well, not  _ yet _ ,” she qualifies.  “But I think you knew my brother,” she says, walking Laura Elizabeth around to a little section of the coffee shop, mostly hidden behind a wall.

 

He’s sitting with his back to her.  A dog at his feet.

 

“Jesus?  I found Mrs. Smith.  She looked just like her profile pic with that bright lipstick and the thing in her hair,” the girl passes along.

 

Laura Elizabeth touches the orange bandana, a little self-conscious.  

 

Jesus turns in the chair.  “Hey, thanks.” 

 

He stands, and Laura Elizabeth is more than a little stunned at how tall he’s gotten.  He has to be over six feet. 

 

“Mrs. Smith this is my little sis, Francesca.  She wanted to meet you. ‘Cause, uh, she just finished fifth grade, and I told her you taught fifth grade.”

 

“I did,” Laura Elizabeth nods.  “Hey, are you reading anything good right now?” she asks, conspiratorially.  

 

“ Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets ,” Francesca admits, beaming.  God, she’s a sweet kid.

 

“ _ Great _ book.   _ Love _ that one,” Laura Elizabeth compliments.  “I loved the ending. You’ll have to see how you feel about it.” 

 

She’s caught for a moment, staring into Francesca’s fathomless brown eyes.  The girl seems to be searching her. Laura Elizabeth holds her gaze. 

 

“She’s good,” Francesca finally pronounces, over her shoulder.

 

“So glad I passed the test,” Laura Elizabeth says, only half-joking.

 

“Why don’t you go back out and hang with Mariana for a bit?” Jesus asks Francesca.  “We can all talk at the end, maybe. If Mrs. Smith wants.”

 

“Okay,” Francesca sighs.  She walks slowly away, and she watches as Jesus keeps an eyeline to her until she’s safely back at the table with their sister.

 

“It’s good to see you,” she tells him honestly.

 

“Yeah.  You...look the same,” he admits, glancing away.  “So, it’s a little weird.”

 

“Oh,” Laura Elizabeth nods, an apology caught behind her teeth.  “I have sunglasses,” she offers, taking out some Jackie O shades, and trying them on.  “Better?”

 

He laughs softly, and it strikes her that in an entire academic year, she had never heard it.  “Nah, listen. I’m okay. You gotta be able to see. Hey, you want anything to drink? They have really great frozen hot chocolate.”

 

“Maybe I’ll pick one up on my way out,” Laura Elizabeth nods, smiling.  It feels a little strange not to have greeted him with a hug. Or shaken his hand.  To have promised him she’d keep her phone in the car. But based on the news from a couple months ago, he has every reason to be wary of people’s motives.

 

“So, I don’t really know what to say.  Just that I appreciate you helping to get our statement out there.” Jesus says honestly.

 

“You’re welcome,” Laura Elizabeth nods.  “I’ve actually started teaching about consent and privacy in my class this year.”

 

“Really?” Jesus asks, intrigued.

 

“Yeah.  Some of the parents are bothered by it, but I feel like...those are the kids who probably need it the most, you know?”

 

“I do,” Jesus answers honestly.  He hesitates. “Did you ever…? I mean, I don’t wanna put you on the spot.”

 

“No, please,” Laura Elizabeth nods.

 

“Did you ever...suspect anything?” Jesus asks, his voice heavy.

 

Laura Elizabeth pauses.  She’s been expecting this.  She owes him the truth, even if it’s awful.  “Jesus...I couldn’t have lived with myself if I truly suspected what was happening to you and I did nothing.  I hate saying that, because it means that I - and so many others - were oblivious. But we were.”

 

“It would’ve been worse if you’d known, I think,” Jesus admits.  “Still...I always wondered. “Sometimes I used to dream about going to your house and having cookies…  Like, at night, during that school year, and even after…”

 

Laura Elizabeth stands.  

 

“What are you doing?” he asks, confused.

 

“Well, we’re not at my house, but no self-respecting coffee shop has a cookie shortage.  I’ll be right back.”

 

“Oh.  Okay…” Jesus manages.

 

Laura Elizabeth steps out from behind the wall, noticing for the first time, the small notice on the ledge that reads:  **RESERVED** .  It makes her think of all the planning and work Jesus must have gone to, in order to make this happen in a way that suited both of them.

 

She sends Francesca a wave.  Notices Mariana at the table with her, and sends a nod.  Laura Elizabeth orders two frozen hot chocolates and two delicious looking, large, warm chocolate chip cookies.  Then she heads back to the table.

 

“What’s your dog’s name?” Laura Elizabeth asks, offering Jesus a frozen hot chocolate and a cookie.

 

“Thanks.  His name’s Dudley,” Jesus says, glancing at her and then at the cookie.  “This is okay? I mean, I  _ have _ money.  I can pay you back.”

 

“No, no.  I offered,” Laura Elizabeth reassures.  

 

They eat in silence for a while.  It’s broken occasionally by rogue “Mmmm’s” and “Oh, my God’s,” that fly out of her own mouth at the decadence of this amazing cookie.

 

Jesus is quieter, clearly having enjoyed the cookies here before.

 

Laura Elizabeth sobers once the food is gone.  “I am genuinely sorry, Jesus. For not knowing you needed help.  I should have.”

 

“You told me already,” Jesus shrugs.  “I know.”

 

“But you deserve a proper apology, at least,” Laura Elizabeth insists, swallowing her own emotions.  

 

She thinks of the little boy in her class.  Easily the smallest. Dressed a little strangely.  Hair too long. Remembered how he had been the only kid who wrote his autobiography as a comic book, hand-drawing all of the illustrations.  About a boy, ripped away from his home planet and forced to live in another dimension.

 

“ _ Code Name Josh… _ ” Laura Elizabeth breathes.

 

“What?” Jesus asks, stiffening.

 

“Your autobiography.  You did a comic book and titled it  _ Code Name Josh _ .  I remember I gave you an A because it was so well done.  But...I should’ve known.”

 

“Didn’t have any pictures…” Jesus admits.  “Or a real story. So…” Jesus shivers. “Haven’t heard that name in a while.  I don’t really say it.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Laura Elizabeth tells him and means it.

 

“I thought I’d fail that assignment.  ‘Cause we were supposed to tell our own life story, and I hadn’t.”

 

“But even then - even though I didn’t catch on - I knew that sometimes the truth just sitting on the page the way I asked for it can be daunting.  You  _ did _ tell the life story of this boy.  You told his truth. The only way you could,” Laura Elizabeth tells him honestly

 

“Yeah…” Jesus nods.  “I tried…” he says, softly.  “I tried  _ not pretending _ ...but it was always way too intense.”

 

A memory rears up then - a horse on its hind legs - threatening to buck Laura Elizabeth.  She locks her ankles - in knee high boots - around the legs of the chair:

 

_ “Tonight, breaking news.  Los Angeles man, Christopher John Mitchell is in custody tonight on charges of kidnapping and murder.” _

 

_ “Honey?”  _ Laura Elizabeth remembered calling to her husband.   _ “This is creeping me out.  This guy they’ve got on the news right now, handcuffed?” _

 

_ “Yeah?  What about him?”  _ Mark had asked, putting down his book on the nightstand to tune in.

 

“ _ He looks like the school janitor, _ ” Laura had shivered.  She recalled vividly how her hand had gone to her stomach protectively, shielding her baby.  They’d only just found out she was pregnant.

 

“ _ Twelve-year-old Ethan Hall, kidnapped ten days ago, was found chained in the basement of this home.  And even more astonishing? The tip came from a youth who identified himself to LA police as Jesus Foster, who went missing out of San Diego, four years ago in September.  Foster, now thirteen, claims that the body of a third boy, twelve year old Isaac Martin, is buried on Mitchell’s land.” _

 

_ The clips play in fast succession:  _

 

_ Chris Mitchell, definitely the elementary school janitor, in handcuffs.   _

 

_ Ethan Hall, pale and thin, hugs his parents.   _

 

_ Jesus Foster glances over his shoulder, watchful, his long hair in a ponytail.  He’s only slightly bigger than he had been as a fifth grader. And Laura Elizabeth could never forget those eyes, as he stared into the lens of the camera, recording everything. _

 

_ Finally, a school photo of the little boy who had gone missing out of Santa Barbara at Christmas a couple years back. _

 

_ But Laura’s mind has snagged on the image before that.  On the boy the news anchor identified as Jesus. She rewinds the live broadcast.  Pauses on his face. _

 

_ (Definitely his face…) _

 

_ “Oh my God!  Josh! ” she’d exclaimed.  And Laura Elizabeth had fallen apart. _

 

_ It had taken Mark several attempts to figure out that Laura had taught one of those little boys on the news, three years ago… _

 

Yes, being faced with the truth could be much, much too intense…

 

“I get that,” Laura Elizabeth says, clearing her throat.  “It’s not your fault.”

 

“Thank you.  You know? For always being so nice to me?  Treating me well? That...it always meant a lot…”

 

“Jesus, I care about all my students.  That’s the truth. And the ones who had a harder time of it?  Well, they stick with me a little more than the ones who had it easy.”

 

“So, you didn’t forget me?’ Jesus wonders.

 

“Not for one second,” Laura Elizabeth wipes her eyes.

 

“Listen, I should get my little sis home.  You wanna come over? Meet Mariana?” Jesus asks.

 

“I’d love to,” Laura Elizabeth manages.

 

She’s about to walk out of the reserved area when Jesus calls her back.  “Uh, Mrs. Smith? Is it okay if I still call you that?”

 

“Sure,” Laura Elizabeth answers.

 

“Can I give you a hug?” Jesus questions, like he’s afraid she’ll say no.

 

“Of course…” Laura nods and opens her arms.  Waits for Jesus to come to her, and then wraps her arms around him gently.  “You were so small...I’m so glad you’ve grown…” 

 

Jesus laughs but it sounds thick with tears.  “I just...I feel like I needed that for a long time.  I hope it’s not selfish.”

 

“Not at all,” Laura Elizabeth reassures.

 

On her way out, as promised, Laura Elizabeth meets Mariana and says goodbye to Francesca.

 

“This is my twin sister, Mariana,” Jesus introduces.  “Mari, this is... _ was _ ...my teacher, Mrs. Smith.”

 

“Hey,” Mariana waves.  “Nice to meet you.”

 

“Nice to meet you.  You two look alike,” Laura Elizabeth compliments Jesus and Mariana.

 

“I love your style,” Mariana grins.

 

“Oh, this old thing?” Laura Elizabeth jokes, thinking of her home-state so obviously reflected in her dress.  “This is what we call Montana-chic.”

 

“Your lipstick is the best.  When can  _ I _ wear lipstick?” Francesca wonders, looking at Mariana.

 

“That would be a question for Moms…” she ventures.

 

“Anyway, good to see you,” Jesus says, “Guys, we should let Mrs. Smith go.  She’s got to get back to her family.”

 

Laura Elizabeth is about to excuse herself when she feels a tug on her sleeve.  “Yes?” she asks, bending down to accommodate Francesca’s height.

 

“Did you know?” Francesca asks, seriously.

 

“I’m sorry?” Laura Elizabeth asks.

 

“That we were Jesus’s real family?  When you had him in your class?” Francesca asks quizzically.

 

“Hey, Fran,” Jesus says, and she can feel his embarrassment.

 

“It’s okay,” Laura tells him.   She turns her attention to Francesca.  “I didn’t. And I am very sorry I didn’t know.  Just like I told Jesus, that’s my fault. He didn’t do anything wrong.  The adults around him...we should have known.”

 

“Why didn’t you know?” Fran asks.  “I mean, no offense, but you’re the grown up.  You should’ve known.”

 

Jesus bends down, too.  Mariana’s scooted out a chair for Francesca by now, and she’s sitting in it.  “She didn’t know because I got really good at pretending. You remember the Disney princess thing we talked about?  How we talked about Belle pretending to love The Beast so he’d let her go free? I had to do that. I had to act like everything was okay in order to be safe.  And I never felt totally safe enough to let her know any of the truth.”

 

“That sucks,” Francesca decides, crossing her arms.  

 

“It does, but we can’t go back,” Jesus tells her.  “We can only go from where we are now. And I’m happy I had a good teacher when so much of the rest of my life wasn’t good.”  His eyes flicker to Laura Elizabeth. “You really meant a lot to me. Treated me like a person.”

 

“It means a lot to me that you wanted to meet.  Thank you. I know this can’t have been easy.” Laura says standing again.

 

“No,” Jesus concedes.  “But I’m glad.” He steps ahead of her, holding the door.  “See you, Mrs. Smith.”

 

“Bye, Jesus,” Laura Elizabeth says, walking past him into the warm night.

 

She thinks of the Instagram post she’ll never make.  The giant warm cookie. The frozen hot chocolate, every bit as good as Jesus said it would be.

 

She captions the picture in her mind’s eye:

 

_ let ruin end here _

 

_ let him find honey _

 

_ where there was once a slaughter _

 

__ \- From “Little Prayer” by Danez Smith _ _

 

 


	31. When You Find Me

To be honest, Dominique’s kept a low profile around Jesus these last couple months.  Since June. 

 

She’s spent enough time as the object of gossip to know when she’s being talked about behind her back.  It’s in the unconscious things people don’t even know they’re doing. (Like the way Jesus’s eyes kept going to her, hurt.  His gestures, dismissive. And then there was the fact that voices carry. That she could clearly hear him say: “ _ She’s acting triggered _ …”)

 

Dominique was glad that Mariana was there to talk some sense into him.  But God, it hurt. No, he doesn’t know everything about her story, but does he need to, in order to be decent?

 

She knows that last month Mari and Fran went with Jesus to the Coffee Corner as backup while Jesus sat down with his fifth grade teacher from LA.  Dominique’s not sorry she had to work that day. She doesn’t need more salt in her wounds.

 

On top of all that?  It’s her traumaversary, as Fran calls it. The fact that it comes around every twelve months feels brutal and too quick.  Always feels like Dominique has just barely started to get herself together when it comes around again. Plus, she was remembering it damn vividly two months ago...and two months before that.  This year, it seems, she just can’t catch a break.

 

Pearl actually is the one person so far who has remembered she’s got an awful day this month.  She checked in weeks ago, to ask when “the day in August” was, so she could make a note of it. Be sure to check in.

 

And sure enough, Dominique has a Polo from her, as soon as she opens her eyes and checks her phone.  

 

“ _ Hey, Dominique, it’s me.  I just wanna say I’m here if you need me today.  You were such a big help this last spring when I was struggling.  I want you to know if you’re feeling guilt or sadness or grief, it’s normal.  And I’m sorry. And it won’t last forever. I promise. _ ”

 

Dominique takes a deep breath and sends one back.  Not dressed. Not even out of bed. She thinks ruefully of Pearl.  All she needs right now are some brownies:

 

“ _ Thanks. That means a lot.  Really. It’s not a good day.  I have all those feelings and more.  I’m angry? It’s not cute, I know, but I am.  I’m so bitter that Jesus is so evolved that he can tell his friends and have them rally around him.  And I wait to be checked in with. And feel terrible when people forget. Doesn’t make much sense, does it? _ ”

 

Pearl’s right there to respond:

 

“ _ So, feel that.  Anger’s healthy.  And know it’s okay for you and Jesus to be different people.  You have different personalities, and you need different things.  I gotta take a shower, but I wanted you to know that I’m with you today.  Bye. _ ”

 

She sees the date: 

 

Friday, August 27, 2021.  

 

Friday.

 

It had been a Friday that day, too.  Chills rise all over her body. She’s about to pull the covers back over her head, grateful to be off, when there’s a knock at the door.

 

Sighing, Dominique climbs down the ladder and goes to it, checking to see who it is.  Stunned to see Mariana there.

 

“Hey.  Bad day?” she asks, soft.

 

Dominique holds the door wide and lets Mariana in.  Locks it behind them.

 

“Only the worst ever…” Dominique says flatly.  “What are you doing here?”

 

“Saw a thing on Jesus’s calendar about today for you…” Mariana admits.

 

Dominique flops on the couch.  Mariana disappears in the kitchen and comes out with bottles of water and nectarines from the bowl of fruit on the counter.  She tosses Dominique one. And even though her mind is nowhere near here, her reflexes are still intact.

 

She takes a bite of the fruit, grabbing a tissue from the box near her to catch the juice.  “Did his calendar say,  _ Will be a hot mess? _  She questions.

 

“No,” Mariana answers.

 

“What’s Fran doing?”  Dominique checks.

 

“Art or something?” Mariana passes along.  “With Jesus. She’s okay.”

 

“Yeah?  How’s home?” she asks, feeling so much better talking about something else - anything else - than what this day actually means.

 

“I’m barely there.  But Lena’s getting more stressed about school being back in session soon.  Stef, too. It’s kind of one of those days. Fran got her, like, school notice thing in the mail?  She’s got sixth grade open house tonight. First day is next Tuesday...which is…”

 

“The day Jesus went missing. Shit,” Dominique breathes.  “If you guys need anything, let me know okay?”

 

“What do _ you _ need?” Mariana asks, point blank.

 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about…” Dominique denies.

 

“You said once...this happened to you...getting away,” Mariana gestures to Dominique’s scars.  “Because what happened to my brother...kinda happened to you. Jesus’s calendar said something about your accident.  I _ do _ know what that’s like…”

 

“I know,” Dominique sighs, irritated that her personal business is displayed on Jesus’s calendar, for anybody to see.  “But not everybody knows everything about that, Mariana. Only Fran knows the main part of this...and she doesn’t know any of the rest.  So, you’ve all got pieces. But nobody’s got the whole picture. Just my parents.”

 

“So, do you need to talk to them?” Mariana wonders.

 

Dominique shrugs.  “Dad bakes. Mom told me last year they don’t talk to me about it because they were advised not to…’

 

“At least they don’t blame you or ignore you, depending on the day…” Mariana manages.

 

“How are you doing with that?” Dominique wonders.

 

“Still sucks,” Mariana chuckles wryly.  “And the whole world has seen me at my absolute worst.  So that’s awesome… I still get people coming up to me, who never even knew my name before.”

 

It takes Dominique a minute to connect that Mariana’s talking  about the pictures. She winces.

 

“Yeah, Tomas, my PT?  He loves to tell anybody who asks all about me,” Mariana manages.

 

“What the hell?” Dominique exclaims.

 

“Oh yeah,  _ ‘Should’ve seen her when she came in.  She couldn’t do this, this and this. Her injury is blah.  Her diagnosis is whatever. Her prognosis depends on..her...determination...for the day… _ ’” Mariana relays.

 

“Wow, has he ever heard of HIPAA?” Dominique asks.  “And I suppose nobody’s there to tell him to shut up about your private info?”

 

“No.  If I try, he just tells me to focus…” Mariana frowns.

 

“Yeah, well, trust that if I ever see him, I’ll let him know where he can shove it,” Dominique promises.

 

“Are you okay, though?  I’ve...barely seen you since the ice cream thing…” Mariana points  out.

 

“Yeah, well, not everybody sees fit to celebrate dead children with ice cream parties…” Dominique remarks bitterly before she remembers who she’s talking to.  “I’m sorry, I just… I have a loss...too...and I would never…”

 

Mariana’s silent for a bit.  “But your dad bakes. You said you have cake,” she points out.  “Is that different?”

 

“It’s about me coming back…” Dominique manages, wiping her eyes.

 

“And having ice cream wasn’t about...celebrating a loss...it was about...honoring what Isaac wanted.  The last thing he told Jesus,” Mariana explains.

 

“Still,” Dominique crosses her arms.  “I know he thinks I was just acting triggered, but things getting blurry is real.  Just ‘cause I don’t break down over it in a way he can recognize doesn’t mean it’s not real…”

 

Mariana looks at Dominique sympathetic.  

 

“Look, I know he’s your brother and I...I do care about him...as a friend…  This is just an awful day and I’m in an awful headspace,” she admits. She opens the water and drinks a little.

 

Mariana’s quiet.  Dominique likes that she doesn’t feel the need to fill every silence.

 

She thinks about what she told Mariana about all of them having pieces of her trauma, but none having the whole picture.  She’s not ready to share it all with them, but she might be ready to share one more thing:

 

“You ever watch _ High School Musical _ ?” Dominique asks.

 

“Wore out the DVD,” Mariana nods smiling.  “Gabriella was my favorite. Yours?”

 

“I loved Taylor,” Dominique admits seriously.  She knows Mariana doesn’t have all the information to realize that Dominique’s speaking on a dual level right now.

 

She just really needed to say it out loud today.

 

\--

 

It’s just after 5:30 that evening, when  _ Williams Family Chat _ pings.  

 

Mariana’s hung out with Dominique all day today.  They’ve marathoned all three  _ High School Musicals _ .  (Dominique sobbed watching Taylor graduate.  One glance at Mariana revealed that she was crying, too.)

 

Dominique glances down at her phone.  “I gotta take this,” she says. 

 

“And I should get going,” Mariana groans, standing up from the couch.

 

“Thank you, for hanging out with me today, and for not pushing.  This was the nicest traumaversary I’ve had yet.” Dominique says honestly, picking up their dishes.

 

“Maybe we can make it a thing?” Mariana asks.  “Every year, we get together, watch these movies and cry together?”

 

“That’d be cool.  Hey, can this just stay between us?” Dominique checks, coming back from the kitchen, having put them in the sink.

 

“Yeah,” Mariana nods.  “I get...that there’s more...or whatever...to your story.  But I also get...being changed by something. How we were changed.  If you need someone who gets that. I’m just saying, I’m here.”

 

“I’m here, too,” Dominique promises watching Mariana walk back across the hall and then shutting the door.

 

\--

 

_ Michael: _

_ This is when I got the call.  Sorry, Mom said you might wanna talk. _

 

_ Dominique: _

_ I didn’t know that. _

 

_ Michael: _

_ We’d waited 10 months and heard nothing.  I hung flyers. _

 

_ Dominique: _

_ I saw. _

 

_ Michael:  _

_ You did? _

 

_ Dominique: _

_ The first time, I looked close, and it got ripped up in front of me.  So I learned not to look close. But I knew what yours looked like at a glance.  Made me know you hadn’t gave up. _

 

_ Michael: _

_ Never.  And Mom was on Twitter every day. _

 

_ Dominique: _

_ Where is Mom? _

 

_ Jaimie: _

_ Here, listening. _

 

_ Dominique: _

_ How are you? _

 

_ Jaimie: _

_ I’m fine… _

 

_ Dominique: _

_ You hate it when I say that. _

 

_ Jaimie: _

_ This is your day, babe.  I don’t wanna reroute all the care to me.  How are you? Talk to us. _

 

_ Dominique: _

_ It’s been hard.  But Mariana came and we spent most of the day here together watching movies.  Now you. _

 

_ Jaimie: _

_ Can’’t stop crying. :(  Don’t wanna be too intense but I need to see you.  Is it okay if I stop by. Just to make sure you’re good? _

 

_ Dominique: _

_ Mom, yes.  Dad, too. (P.S. Mariana asked me something today: Is the lemon cake, like, in bad taste?  Celebrating sadness? Loss?) _

 

_ Michael: _

_ I would never wanna celebrate losing you, Dom.  That’s why we never have cake on the other date. _

 

_ Dominique: _

_ Mom, you got me back, but I lost.  Is it bad to wanna have cake still? _

 

_ Jaimie: _

_ I don’t think it’s bad at all, babe.  And Dad made it, same as usual. Want us both there?  Should we bring it by? _

 

_ Dominique: _

_ Can you? _

 

_ Michael: _

_ Be there in 15. _

 

_ \-- _

 

When they walk in, as soon as the door is closed behind them, Dominique is there.

 

It’s the first time in eleven years that she’s run to them like this.  Fallen apart like this. Dad barely has time to set the cake down on an end table before she’s in their arms.  

 

All three are crying.

 

When she’d been young, and first talked through the possibility of this happening to her, Dominique always naively had imagined a happy ending.

 

Running into her parents’ arms.  Feeling relieved. Safe. Loved.

 

But it feels like, after all this time, maybe this was the piece that was missing.  

 

\--

 

Once their tears are dried (mostly for Mom) they find plates and hang out on the couch eating cake.  Her and Mom share a blanket. They watch  _ Disney’s The Princess and the Frog  _ together.  Dad tries to train Roberta to speak if she wants cake.  Roberta, of course, catches on immediately and is livid when Dad won’t hold up his end of the bargain.

 

It’s perfect.  And painful. 

 

Dominique can still feel the ache of emptiness within her.  Catches flashes of the smash of metal. The searing heat. 

 

(The soundtrack of this movie was the soundtrack of Dominique’s recovery.  She sang to cope.)

 

And now, even though she’s still shy around Dad, she mouths the words as her parents both sing along.

 

It’s as close as she can come.

 

And it’s enough.

 

She has her people.

 

Her cake.

 

And her music, still here, to comfort her.

 


	32. What I've Done

Mariana’s just about to leave with Jesus to go back home and wait for Fran to be done with her Open House when Dominique’s door opens across the hall.

 

“Hey…  Can you come in for a sec?” Dominique asks, motioning to Mariana.

 

“I’ll go pull the car up,” Jesus tells Mariana and goes to the stairs.  She knows he usually takes the elevator. She also knows Dudley doesn’t like it.

 

“What’s up?” Mariana asks, bracing herself on the closest wall for balance.

 

“You can sit,” Dominique invites and waits until Mari does.  Mariana’s wondering what’s going on right now. Does Dominique need to talk some more?  But she just waits.

 

“Listen, I…  I know words and talking aren’t the easiest for you...so I don’t want you to think I don’t care about that when I tell you this…” Dominique ventures, deliberate.

 

“When you tell me what?” Mariana wonders.

 

“Earlier...when I said I had a loss too?  That I would never...celebrate a dead child...with ice cream.  You immediately asked about my dad baking the cake… I need you to know that really hurt my feelings.”

 

Mariana opens her mouth.  Closes it. Something about the pacing of the words are making them land differently now.  Making Mariana realize Dominique’s loss was also a child. That it wasn’t the time to ask clarifying questions about decisions to celebrate moments that were traumatic.

 

Exhaling a breath, Mariana extends a hand to Dominique and just waits.

 

Dominique eventually takes it.

 

“I’m sorry.” Mariana says, looking Dominique in the eyes.  She hopes Dominique is getting that Mari means it on multiple levels: for hurting her, and for the loss, both.

 

“I wanted you to know, because I respect you.  Not because I don’t. Because this friendship matters to me,” Dominique tells Mariana seriously.

 

“It matters to me, too.  Can I hug you?” Mariana asks.

 

Dominique nods.

 

Mariana scoots across the distance between them and wraps her arms around her friend.  “I’m sorry,” she says again, squeezing gently. “This is what I should have done.”

 

“Thank you,” Dominique manages, through tears.

 

Mariana’s phone rings and the ringtone tells her it’s Jesus.  “I should go. But thanks. For telling me.”

 

“I’ll walk you out,” Dominique offers,

 

They ride the elevator together in silence.  Dominique walks Mariana all the way to the car.  Opens the passenger door for her, as Dudley’s in back, and closes it when she’s safely inside.

 

She watches Dominique walk back in as Jesus pulls away.

 

“What was that about?” Jesus wonders.

 

“Just friend stuff,” Mariana tells him, taking a deep breath.

 

\--

 

She expects to find Fran and Moms here when she gets home, but they’re not yet.  Mariana reassures Jesus that he can go. That she’ll be fine. And then she goes into her room and video chats Levi.

 

“Hey.  So, I’m a horrible person…”

 

“Oh no.  What happened?  Is it your moms?” he asks, the screen showing both Levi’s face and his new Great Dane’s giant head.

 

“Dominique. I said something...that hurt her.  Something I shouldn’t have,” Mariana admits.

 

Levi just listens.

 

“We were talking...and it was like...everything was happening so fast…”

 

“Everything?” Levi wonders.

 

“The conversation?” Mariana clarifies.  “That it felt like my brain was rushing to...like...catch up, I guess.  Plus, a lot of emotion. And I just...ended up responding to the last thing I heard...and kind of…” she shrugs.

 

“So...the conversation was going by too fast...and things were emotional...so it was extra hard to keep up with?  So you just ended up responding to the last thing Dominique said? And that was wrong?” Levi guesses.

 

“She ended by saying that  _ she would never _ , and it’s like...,my brain just filled it in and I asked like, ‘But wait, what about whatever?’  So it was like I was questioning her…”

 

“Instead of what?” Levi asks.

 

“Believing her?” Mariana says back, like a question.  “I mean, she told me it hurt her feelings and I apologized...but I still feel terrible.”

 

“I’m glad you apologized,” Levi tells her sincerely.

 

“Me, too, but like...this thing...me and words?  I don’t really talk about it?” Mariana admits. “Like, what would you say if I told you I spent...a lot of time...every day, doing flashcards?”

 

( _ What would you say if you knew that my brain injury is my fault? _ )

 

“What kind of flashcards?” Levi asks, curious.

 

“Like...with stuff on them.”

 

Levi smiles.  “Okay.”

 

“Don’t laugh,” Mariana objects, even though she’s laughing now, too.  “And I have to be able to say the name for the stuff. But it’s hard?”

 

“I’d say that makes sense.  Flashcards are a good way to review stuff,” Levi nods.

 

“No, but these are like...for a five year old…  What do you think now?” Mariana insists. 

 

Levi pauses.  “Well, I don’t think you’re a five year old…” Levi objects, matter of fact.

 

“My parents think it means I’m stupid.  Even Jesus figured I didn’t know the names of the things.”

 

“But you do,” Levi surmises.

 

“It’s saying the names.  Finding it and saying it.”  She sighs. “But they assume because I can’t say it...I must not know it.  And Moms treat me like I don’t know anything. It makes it worse.”

 

“So, if you’re feeling bad about yourself, it probably makes finding the words even harder…” Levi guesses.

 

“It does.” Mariana nods.  “Nobody really knows about this...I mean, Fran does, obviously, and Jesus.  But the rest of The Avoiders...nobody gets that this is a thing. Like, all the time.  And I didn’t wanna bring it up with Dominique just now. I didn’t want her to think I was trying to excuse...what I said…”

 

“But your...what is it called?” Levi wonders.

 

“Aphasia?” Mariana admits, feeling heat flood her face.

 

“Right.  Your aphasia.  It’s not an excuse but it is a factor.  And I do think if you ever wanted to talk about it with Dom, she’d listen.”

 

“Hey!  We’re home!” Fran calls from downstairs.

 

“Levi, I gotta go.  Thanks. Bye,” Mariana says abruptly, ending the call.

 

Mariana can feel herself breathing in all of her honesty, all her real feelings about what’s happened to her. Securing them someplace untouchable.

 

It’s seamless and it’s quick.  By the time Fran’s in the doorway, Mariana has a smile in place for her.

 

\--

 

Francesca comes in and flops on her bed.  “That was long…” she complains, closing the door behind her.  

 

Her red  _ Code Like a Girl _ shirt is all sweaty.  She doesn’t really like that one because it makes her seem math-smart when she’s so not that.  And also it makes her think of the mean book Moms got for Mariana for her birthday. She likes her leggings that look like actual jeans though, without the annoying button or zipper.

 

She wants to go change right now, but she has to talk to Mariana first.  None of her other brothers or sisters are here to ask about school stuff.  Plus, Mariana will tell her the truth about if a teacher is nice or if they’re mean.

 

(Not like Mama, who said, “ _ They’re all nice _ …”)

 

The smile falls off Mariana’s face.  “Yeah, I thought you’d be home a while ago, what happened?”

 

“Mama was acting so embarrassing,” Francesca lowers her voice, just in case Moms are listening.  “She was like, ‘ _ We have to change your Language teacher!’   _ And I asked why and she’s like ‘ _ Don’t ask questions, Frankie… _ ’  Anyway, we had to take forever getting that fixed for no reason… So, have you had any of these teachers?” Fran wonders, coming over and lying on Mariana’s bed with her.  She shows Mari her schedule.

 

Mariana blinks and squints a bunch.  “Can you tell me?” she asks.

 

“Okay, sure.  For gym I have Denise, for choir I have Kari, for art, I have Jenny.  That’s all my first period classes through the week.”

 

“Denise…” Mariana makes a face.  “Kari’s the best. And Jenny...she’s good.” Mariana says.

 

“Oh no…” Fran complains.  “I have Denise first thing on Mondays!”

 

“But school starts Tuesday, so you’re safe…” Mariana reassures.  “Choir with Kari will be a good way to start.”

 

Francesca goes through the rest of her schedule, listing off teachers.  Mariana has had almost all of them. “Oh no again!” Francesca moans. “I have that Craig teacher who gave me detention for three classes in a row!”

 

“Craig’s good,” Mariana reassures.

 

“No, but he’s going to remember he had me in detention three days in a row.  He’s gonna think I’m a bad kid!”

 

“Craig knows kids make mistakes... _ and he knows adults make mistakes _ …” Mariana adds under her breath.

 

“Like punishing kids for no reason, and threatening them with jail..” Fran adds, miserable.  

 

Mariana rubs her back.  “Right. He knows you’re my sister, and I know him.  So if you have any questions, just ask.”

 

“Him or you?” Fran wonders.

 

“Well, probably him first…” Mariana admits.  “But if he’s not around you can ask me, or the other Avoiders.”

 

“That’s true.  Pearl probably knows every single thing about sixth grade homework.  She’s the oldest.”

 

Finally they get to the end of the day.  “And, last but not least, Language - Timothy!” Francesca announces.  She frowns at the line through the name, and the rewrite underneath. “No, just kidding.  That’s the one Mama freaked out about and looked into switching right there. Somebody did her a favor and fixed it right then, so I wouldn’t have to go to his class even once.”

 

\--

 

Mariana pulls Fran’s schedule closer.  “Which one did Mama want changed?” she asks.

 

“Right there,” Fran points to where a red line strikes out the teacher  Hasani, Timothy.

 

A memory plays through Mariana’s mind.  From the night Lena told first told them she was pregnant with Francesca.  When sixth grade had just started for her. When Jesus was still gone:

 

_ “I’m going to have a baby…” Lena says, hesitating. _

 

_ “How?” Callie blurts.  “I mean, don’t you need a man for that?” _

 

_ “She means adopting, right?  That’s how all the kids come into this family,” Brandon remarks, dryly. _

 

_ “Two girls can’t have a baby, right, Callie?” Jude asks. _

 

_ “No,” Callie shakes her head.  “I think Brandon’s right. I think they’re adopting.” _

 

_ “Are you?” Mariana presses.  “Adopting? Or what do you mean?” _

 

_ “I mean…  There are ways that two mommies can have a baby if they want to.  There are nice men out there who want to help.” _

 

_ Brandon coughs.  “...Timothy…” _

 

_ “Excuse me?” Stef asks. _

 

_ “What?  He was in your bathroom.  Not exactly subtle, Moms…” _

 

She thinks about how Moms didn’t deny it.  Other memories crowd in. Not so out of place anymore.  Mama inviting Timothy over for dinner the previous summer.  Him showing up at Callie and Jude’s adoption party that August.  And the other memory that had first surfaced at the cabin. The one she almost shared with the other Avoiders before she shared it with Fran.  Moms fighting about making Timothy sign some papers. So he couldn’t just one day decide to come and be a part of the baby’s life. Or have legal rights to take her.

 

At the time, Mariana had felt glad. Anything that prevented her from losing another sibling was a good thing, but she hadn’t been thinking big picture then.

 

She hadn’t been thinking about what that baby was gonna think and wonder about growing up in a family where all her siblings were adopted.  Where she was the only one actively kept in the dark about her bio parent.

 

Mariana knows she promised to tell Frankie first thing when she remembered.  But it’s too big a risk with Moms in the house. She’ll have to wait until they’re out.

 

“Who do you have instead?” Mariana asks, curious.

 

“Somebody named Liv.  She seems new,” Francesca wrinkles her nose.  “Did you have her?”

 

“No.”  Mariana shakes her head.  “I actually had Timothy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part I


	33. Issues

When Francesca wakes up on the first day of school, she is so nervous she has a stomachache.  She’s not even sure why. Mariana says most of her teachers are nice. 

 

Speaking of Mariana, guess who doesn’t move and just keeps sleeping?  She was up late, like usual. 

 

Francesca’s still trying to figure out her weird stomachache thing.  She got to see where her classes were. She’s still at Anchor Beach. The switching classes makes her nervous (what if she gets lost?) but Fran didn’t think she’d be this nervous.

 

She finally gets out of bed at 6:35 to get dressed. Today, it’s Fran’s green shirt from Grams with a tree on the front, that says  _ Grow Your Mind _ with some yellow leggings.  Mama does her hair and she keeps pulling and saying she doesn’t have time for this.

 

“Well, maybe Jesus can take me…” Fran ventures.  She likes it way better when Jesus takes her to school anyway.

 

“No, Frankie,” Mom snaps from the kitchen and Fran tenses.  “Don’t bother Jesus today, understand?”

 

Fran knows Jesus would say it’s not bothering him, but she knows better than to say that to Mom.  Mama keeps dropping the brush and Fran hears a sniffle behind her.

 

“Mama?  Are you crying?” Fran asks, incredulous.  “It’s okay if you can’t do my hair…”

 

“Frankie, you need to face forward or this is going to be crooked,” Mama snaps, too.

 

“Ouch…” Fran exclaims as Mama pulls again.  (Seriously. Mari told her about the IVs she had in her head even when she was a preemie in the NICU.  They make her head super sensitive, but it’s like Mama doesn’t even care about that.)

 

She can’t eat breakfast because of her stomach hurting.  She thinks about asking if she can stay home. But she doesn’t want to make Moms even madder.  Plus, what would happen if she missed the first day?

 

Before she goes out the door, Mom stops her, with hands on her shoulders.  “Francesca, if anything comes up today, I want you to call me.”

 

“Anything, like what?” Fran asks.

 

“Like if you need me,” Mom says, squatting in front of her.  Her voice sounds funny. And there are tears in her eyes.

 

“Okay,” Fran says warily.  The hug Mom gives feels strange, because Fran’s the one doing the comforting, it seems like, not the other way around.

 

When she gets in the car with Mama, it’s weird-tense.

 

“Now, Mom meant what she said…” Mama begins.  “Do not bother Jesus today. You wait for me after school.  Do not walk home by yourself. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes, Mama…  You told me this already, like a million times…” Fran complains.

 

“Francesca, your brother was kidnapped today!” Mama snaps.

 

Fran feels a shock go through her.  (Somebody couldn’t get kidnapped twice in one life, could they?)

 

“Not...today…” Mama breathes.  “Years ago, before you were born, but it was on this day, okay?  September 7th. So I need you to listen to me and please do what I say.  No walking home alone. No rides from strangers. Got it?”

 

Fran’s stomach hurts again.  “Can I stay home?” she winces.

 

“Are you serious?  Frankie, I just told you this is a very hard day for Mom and me.  I don’t need this right now. Especially when  _ you know _ that Jesus left school that day because he felt sick.”

 

(Francesca actually didn’t know that.  Now, she feels really bad.) “Sorry,” she says, taking her black backpack with pink and green on the pocket to remind her of her and Mariana and gets ready to get out of the car.

 

“Wait for me.  Wait, please,” Mama says, her voice tight.

 

And then, Fran is embarrassed to the moon because guess what Mama does?  Walks her inside of Anchor Beach  _ holding her hand _ .  Once the door to school closes at her back, Fran pulls away.

 

“Bye,” she says, and starts walking to find the choir room.  Nobody’s here yet. It’s dark. So Fran stands in the hall and checks her phone.

 

She thinks about Moms’ warnings.  Don’t bother Jesus today. That means no Poloing all The Avoiders at once.  So she picks Mariana.

 

“Hey, I’m at school,” she says in the noisy hall.  “Mama told me on the way that-- She told me what day it is…” Fran corrects.  School isn’t the right place to talk all about Jesus’s private stuff. “And my stomach hurts…” she admits, blinking back tears.  “I don’t wanna be here, and they told me I can’t bother Jesus today either, but I just wanna check in with him… I really hope you wake up soon because I need to talk to you.  I hope you can go see Jesus today and tell me if he’s okay. Are you? Oh, PS. I’m outside of Kari’s class right now, see?” Fran aims the camera. “Look familiar?” Fran tries to smile, and sends the Polo.

 

\--

 

Mariana gets up at 10:30 AM.  Her head throbs and an old pain is back in her stomach.  Guilt gut, she and Jesus had called it. At first, Mariana’s sure it’s because she’s kept Timothy a secret from Fran for two weeks (because Moms never leave the house leading up to this traumaversary, and Mari hasn’t been able to get Francesca alone to tell her.)

 

But then she checks her Polos.  Sees Fran saying that Mama told her “what day it is.”  And that makes Mariana double check. Oh shit. Usually, Jesus is here at like, 8 AM to pick her up.  How did she sleep so late? Is he okay?

 

Nothing in Avoiders Chat.  Nothing in her Polos from him.  No texts.

 

She takes a deep breath and calls.  

 

“Hey…” Jesus says.

 

“Hey, are you okay?” Mariana wonders.

 

“I mean, other than staring at the clock and thinking about what I was doing every single minute, yeah, I’m great.”  (He doesn’t sound great, for the record.)

 

“Fran says Moms told her not to bug you today, but she’s really worried about you,” Mariana passes along.

 

“You okay?” he checks.

 

“Guilt gut,” she says softly.  “And my head’s like, so pissed at me…”

 

“I’m sorry,” he says.  “If you wanna just hang there and sleep, it’s cool.”

 

“Do you want me to?  Is it...like Moms said…  Do you wanna be alone? Because that sounds like...concerning.”

 

“No, I mean, I’d always rather hang out with you, but if you’re down for the count, I understand.  I can come over, get you some Tylenol or whatever. You can take it easy til you feel like heading over here?”

 

“You don’t have to do that…” Mariana denies.

 

“I want to,” Jesus objects, his voice heavy with feeling.  “I need to be with you today. Is that cool?”

 

“Yeah…” Mariana confirms.  “And same.”

 

\--

 

Math with Craig is the actual worst because if he taught Mari how to build robots he probably thinks Fran is just as smart.  And in math, she’s just not. Plus, it’s kind of boring being in the same room for hours now that she’s used to switching. 

 

Fran wishes she could just have choir and sing all day long.  At the end of every class, they will have listening time, where somebody shares music they like and they all listen to the song together.  Fran thinks about what song she’d choose. But she knows she’ll never share during listening time. Too big of a chance she’ll get made fun of.

 

Her stomachache is still there.  Plus she’s hungry. They had snack before math and Fran didn’t bring one because she didn’t know about it.  Finally Math is over. Six minutes until Science in the same class.

 

Francesca checks her Polos.

 

First Mariana:

 

“ _ Hey.  I have a stomachache, too.  I think it’s just a thing...from being nervous.  I used to get nervous to go to school, too. It’s normal.  We can pick you up, if you want _ .”

 

She goes to Avoider Chat and types:

 

_ Yes pick me up pls after school but make sure to tell Mama bc she made me promise to wait for her. _

 

She has another Polo from Jesus and listens to that one:

 

“ _ Hey, Fran.  You get to bother me.  That’s the deal. I heard you were worried about me.  I’m okay, Dudley’s here, and I’m gonna hang out with Mariana like usual and maybe we can come and get you after school and hang out?  Seeing my little sis would really help _ .”

 

Jesus’s Polo ends just in time for Science to start.  Science is almost as bad as Math but at least she has something to look forward to now.

 

\--

 

For most of the day, Mariana and Jesus just hang out in his apartment together.  At first, he’d say, “ _ Now is the last time I saw you in the hall _ ,” and “ _ Now, I left school _ .” And “ _ Now, I got in That Car _ …”

 

But those updates stopped a while ago.

 

“What about now?” Mariana checks around 1 PM.

 

“Now, I don’t know…” Jesus admits.  “It was a long time ‘til I saw a clock or a calendar again…”

 

So, Mariana takes over.  “ _ Well, now is when I was getting in trouble and having to stand in the hall _ …”

 

When they’re parked in front of Anchor Beach:  “ _ Now is when I got home with Brandon.  When I realized you weren’t home and Lena realized you weren’t with us _ .”

 

Jesus nods.  Mariana thinks he probably appreciates having a way to mark time for the rest of today, instead of with whatever was happening to him.  

 

There’s a tap on Mariana’s window, startling them both.

 

Jesus glances over and hits the button to open it once they both see it’s Lena, holding Fran’s hand.  Fran looks like she wants to melt into the sidewalk.

 

“I told her not to bother you today, honey.  I’m sorry,” Lena apologizes to Jesus.

 

“It’s okay.  We offered,” Jesus nods, as Fran happily gets in the back seat.  

 

Lena lowers her voice and leans in a bit, which means she’s right next to Mariana’s face.  It’s way too close, but there’s nowhere to go. Besides, she might as well not even be here.  Lena’s totally focused on Jesus.

 

“You did or she did?” Lena asks, indicating Mariana, just barely.

 

“We both did,” Jesus manages, stressed.

 

“Or did Frankie manage to convince you?  You know, you don’t have to protect her.”

 

“Don’t you and Mom make decisions together?” Jesus challenges quietly and Mariana raises her eyebrows, making eye contact with Fran in the rearview mirror.

 

“Of course, but we’re married.  And we’ve been together for twenty years.  It’s different than your sister pressuring you.”

 

“It’s not, though, because she didn’t pressure me.  And you and Mom have been married, for, like, seven years.  Together for twenty, but guess what? Mariana and I have been twins for our entire lives.  Twenty-three years, plus seven months or something of womb time.” 

 

“Jesus, I--” Lena’s mouth has dropped open.  But Jesus isn’t done:

 

“I think that qualifies us to be really good at making decisions together and respecting each other in the process.  Fran didn’t ask. She steered clear of me. Because you said to. Which, by the way, is the last thing I want…” Jesus manages, putting the window back up and pulling away.

 

\--

 

“Wow,” Francesca manages, from the backseat.  It’s the first time all day her stomachache is fading.  She maybe could even eat a snack when she gets to Jesus’s.  

 

“Wow, what?” Jesus asks, like he’s still talking to Mama in that quiet, tight way.

 

“You just told Mama that twins are better than being married…” Francesca says, in awe.

 

“Not better...just different,” Mariana speaks up.  “How was school?”

 

“I’m so hungry,” Francesca admits.

 

“Where should we go?” Jesus asks Mari.  It’s like he’s nervous. He probably is, since the bad guy got him today and everything.

 

Mariana’s thinking, so Francesca speaks up.  “Wherever we go, I’ll protect you, okay buddy?”

 

“Thanks, buddy.  We’ll protect you, too.  Always. No matter what Mama says,” he promises.

 

“That makes me feel better.  I thought maybe you’d believe her.  Maybe think I was too big for protecting now that I’m in sixth grade.”

 

“You’re never too big for protecting,” Jesus reassures.  In the end, they go to Jesus’s apartment. When she tells them she couldn’t eat breakfast or lunch, Jesus gives her a turkey salami sandwich and some carrots and some puffy Cheetos.  And a glass of milk.

 

Francesca eats the bread first, smelling the smooth crust until her nose has flour on it from the bread.  Then she saves that piece of crust for very last of the bread, because it tastes the best. Then she eats the piece of turkey salami with the milk.  Then the carrots. Then the Cheetos.

 

They don’t really talk.  But Fran feels the safest here that she’s felt all day.  Just sitting at the table with her brother and sister.

 

It’s still the day it is - hard and scary - but at least they get to be together.


	34. You Will Be Found

On Wednesday, the second day of school, Moms still don’t want Francesca to go to Jesus’s, even though Jesus said it was okay.  So, Fran is stuck at home with Mariana while Mom works late and Mama’s grocery shopping.

 

Fran is so jealous.  She wishes she got to go grocery shopping.

 

“I had gym today,” Fran tells Mari, wrinkling her nose.  “You’re right. Denise is not my favorite teacher at all.  Plus, I don’t like changing for gym. It takes too long.”

 

She tries to concentrate on homework but she can’t.  She keeps getting distracted, thinking about what Jesus or the other Avoiders are doing.

 

Mariana helps her with some Social Studies.  Fran writes in her Language journal for Liv, her replacement teacher and homeroom teacher.  She’s so nice. Fran really does like her and wants to do her best job in that class.

 

“I wish Michael 2 went to a different school,” Fran complains.  

 

“Michael who?” Mariana asks, distracted.

 

“Michael Smith, my mortal enemy.  But I’m calling him Michael 2, so I don’t just call him Michael and get him confused with Dominique’s dad.  He’s way worse than that…because Dominique’s dad is the nicest.”

 

It takes Francesca a long time to finish her homework.  Mari has to remind her to stay on task a bunch. Finally, she says:

 

“Listen, I have something really important to tell you, okay?  And I’ve been waiting until we were alone, because it’s private.  But I don’t know how long Lena will be out, so…”

 

“Oh, gosh, so I should hurry up!” Francesca insists.

 

“I just mean...try not to get distracted?” Mariana encourages.

 

Fran does manage to finish with time to spare, thank goodness.  Mama’s still not home when Fran answers her last question for Reading.  She closes her book and rechecks her assignment book to be sure she got to all her homework.  Repacks her backpack.

 

“Okay, so what’s the thing?” Fran asks.

 

“So…”  Mariana starts, but then, she stops.  She looks like when you wanna say something but no words will come out.

 

“Are you okay?” Francesca wonders, putting a hand on her shoulder.

 

“I feel like...it’s a lot of pressure…” Mari manages.  “To tell you this...talking’s harder…”

 

“Oh, it’s okay,” Fran reassures, trying to calm down her excitement.  “You know Mama loves to grocery shop all alone. She’ll probably be gone a whole bunch longer.”

 

It takes a few minutes, and Fran talking about why she hates the gym uniforms before Mari feels like she can say whatever it is.

 

“So...remember at the cabin...when you were asking about your bio dad?  And I promised if I remembered his name, I’d tell you?”

 

“Yeah?” Fran asks, not getting where she’s going with this.  By now, Fran has given up finding out anything about him ever, especially after the last time she tried to talk to Mama about it.

 

“Well, I remembered...after your Open House…” Mariana admits.

 

“You did?” Fran asks, incredulous.

 

“And I know...it’s been a while...but like I said...I’ve kinda been waiting...for us to be alone...and…”

 

“I’m not mad…” Fran reassures.  She glances around the room, happy that Mariana unplugged the intercom and that Mama finally decided to take it out of their room all the way.

 

“Okay,” Mariana breathes.  “I just...I don’t want you to think I was...keeping it from you...you know, on purpose?”

 

“You weren’t,” Fran says.  “Right?”

 

“Right, I wasn’t.”  Mariana reassures.

 

“So...not to be rude but...can I know his name?” Fran asks, timid.

 

“Right, sorry.  Your bio dad...he’s actually Timothy…  You know, from school?” Mariana asks.

 

“What?” Fran asks, confused.  “I just thought he was a stranger we didn’t even know.  So, like, even if you knew his name, it wouldn’t be one I’d know…”

 

“Who said that?” Mariana wonders.

 

“Nobody.  I just decided in my mind.  Like, that must be the reason?  Why nobody wants to tell me? Maybe it was because nobody really knew?”  Fran pauses. “Is it really Timothy?”

 

“Yeah,” Mari nods.  “He’s been a teacher at Anchor Beach for a while.  He and Lena have known each other...a long time. He taught high school English for a while.  He was my teacher. And Callie’s, Brandon’s and Jude’s, too.”

 

“What’s his last name?” Fran asks, curious, leaning toward Mariana.

 

“Hasani,” Mariana says.

 

Francesca mouths the word.  “What country is that from?”

 

“India.  Like, Indian from India,” Mariana says.

 

“So, that means I’m half Indian from India…” Francesca breathes.  “Do I look like him?”

 

“I think so, a little bit.  I think you have his personality, too.  He’s smart and fair. He’s kind like you.”

 

Francesca smiles.  She can’t believe her luck.  After all this time wondering and wondering, she really finally knows who her bio dad is, just like her brothers and sisters do.

 

Timothy is a good name, and Hasani…  Francesca loves the last name the most.  How it sounds. How it just flows out of your mouth like a river of sounds.  She tries it out with her own name, just inside her mind: Francesca Hasani. And it’s like something clicks.

 

It feels like she finally found who she is.  She also has a million questions. 

 

“I didn’t know my bio dad would be a teacher,” Fran admits, shocked.  “I don’t know what I thought, I just...I didn’t think that.”

 

“Yeah, it’s like that.  We wonder a lot, but don’t always know...how to fill in the gaps.” Mariana admits.  

 

“It’s not fair that everybody in the family, practically, knows who he is, but I didn’t.  You got to be taught by him. Mama got to work with him.”

 

“I don’t think it’s fair either…” Mari admits.  “Moms...they used to be more...whatever...about letting us know about our birth parents.  Seeing them and all that.”

 

“Like, more what?” Fran asks.

 

“Like, they let us do it,” Mariana explains.  “Now, they seem really closed off about it. But I think you do deserve to know.”

 

“Because it’s my identity.  Dominique said. There’s no shame in knowing who I am,” Fran remembers.

 

“She’s right.  And it’s not a secret, exactly.  Like...it shouldn’t be? But Moms...they’re really sensitive about it.  So, that’s why I waited...to tell you until we were alone. So, maybe don’t mention it to them...just to be safe.”

 

“Okay.  Wait…” Francesca says, the wheels turning in her brain too fast to keep up.  “That’s why Mama switched me out of Timothy’s class…” she says, glancing up at Mariana.

 

“Probably,” Mariana admits.

 

“But that’s not fair!  He could’ve been my teacher!  I could’ve known who he was, not just by other people, but for real!”

 

“It’s  _ not _ fair,” Mariana agrees.  

 

“He’s teaching sixth grade now, not even high school!  He probably did that ‘cause he knew I’d be in sixth grade!  There’s only two classes of us - and Mama switched me!”

 

Mariana’s lips get thin, like she’s mad, too.

 

“This is kinda like what Pearl’s mom did to her...keeping her dad a secret from her…  Can I call Pearl? She said I could talk to her about bio dad stuff anytime I wanted. She even gave me her phone number, and I’m done with my homework.”

 

“Yeah, just don’t let Lena catch you talking about him…” Mariana cautions.

 

\--

 

“Hello?” Pearl asks, surprised to be getting a call from Francesca at 9 PM, and then remembering they’re two hours behind in California. 

 

She’s been slowly renewing her efforts to stay up to date on Stef and Lena’s frame of mind, sending them articles she’s come across about different issues facing the disabled community - including parental abuse. 

 

When she tags them, they always respond with how terrible the story is.  How unbelievable it is that any parent would mistreat their ‘defenseless child’ that way.  But they seem willfully ignorant and / or oblivious to how damaging their own actions are to Mariana and Fran.

 

It’s why Pearl’s hackles are up at a late-night call from the youngest Avoider.

 

“Francesca?  What’s up?”

 

“I have super ginormous news,” Fran announces, breathless.  “Mariana remembered my bio dad’s name. And it’s a teacher from my school.   _ And _ Mama switched me out of his class!  Hey, do you know where India is?”

 

“Wow, okay, slow down a minute.  So Mariana told you his name?” Pearl asks.

 

“Yes!” Francesca almost shouts.  She sounds so happy.

 

“That’s awesome!  Do you wanna share it?” Pearl asks.

 

“Timothy Hasani,” Francesca says, proud.  “What was yours and Levi’s dad’s name? If you wanna say?” Fran asks.

 

“Paris West,” Pearl relays.

 

“So cool,” Fran gushes.  

 

“So, your bio dad’s a teacher at Anchor Beach, you said?  That’s incredible!” Pearl exclaims.

 

“Yeah, but not incredible that Mama knew I was gonna be in his class and then switched me to the other sixth grade Language teacher on purpose…”

 

“Ouch…” Pearl winces, feeling Lena’s actions on a personal level.  

 

“Yeah,” Francesca sighs.  “I would’ve gotten to have him for my teacher but I can’t now…  Mariana says the name Hasani’s Indian. Like, the country. But where even  _ is _ that?”

 

“India is in South Asia.  You’ve heard of China, right?” Pearl asks.

 

“Yes,” Fran laughs.  

 

“So, China’s near India,” Pearl tells Fran.

 

“It feels weird that I’m Asian…” Fran admits.  “And I didn’t know. I kind of always thought I was more Black.  You know, like you and Levi? More like half and half? But I’m half Asian.  Like my friend Shane at school.”

 

“It’ll probably be a bit of an adjustment,” Pearl tells her, knowing.  “It can help to find out other things about that part of your identity, though.  So, it doesn’t feel so apart from you.”

 

“Like what?  Do you know more things about India?” Fran wonders.

 

“Let’s see...I know that…  Cows are seen as sacred in India.  No one eats beef there and most are vegetarians--”

 

“Like Mariana!” Fran interjects.

 

“Right!  You don’t have to be vegetarian if you don’t want to be, but it’s not that strange.  Let’s see, I know that India has a large film industry called Bollywood.”

 

“I saw that style on  _ So You Think You Can Dance _ !” Fran insists.  

 

“Good!  See, so you know about more Asian stuff than you thought, right?  Also, I know you love animals. They have interesting animals in India like Bengal tigers, elephants, flying foxes and lions…”

 

“Sloths?” Francesca wonders.

 

“I don’t think so...sorry,” Pearl apologizes.  “I think they’re indigenous to North America.”

 

“Huh?” Francesca wonders, lost.

 

“I mean, sloths are originally from here.  Where we live. But now they’re mostly found in Central America and South America.”

 

“Aw, man!” Francesca exclaims.  “But at least I live where sloths came from originally…”

 

“How’s school going?” Pearl wonders.

 

“It’s okay.  I hate gym.” Francesca passes along.  “And math. And I was nervous going to school yesterday because of…  Do you know what day yesterday was?”

 

“I do,” Pearl nods, thinking of the card she sent in the mail.  

 

“I was nervous because of that. But then I got to hang out at Jesus’s after school and he drew me this picture of all The Avoiders as sloths and all the Avoider-sloths were protecting me on the way to school.  I wanna be a sloth for Halloween, but I haven’t figured out how to tell Moms yet. Slothcesca,” Fran says, and Pearl can hear her grinning.

 

“Aw, that’s amazing,” Pearl yawns.  “Well, it’s getting late here. I gotta head to bed.  But I’m really happy you found out who your bio dad is, Francesca.  Thanks for calling and telling me that.”

 

“You’re welcome.” Fran says.

 

\--

 

When Mama comes home, it’s super hard to act like everything is normal.  Like Fran isn’t half about to explode from happiness and half super mad at Mama for keeping Timothy away from her.

 

But Francesca manages to keep it to herself.

 

That night, as she and Mariana are lying in bed, Mari whispers:

 

“If you wanna meet him tomorrow, I can take you…”

 

“What?  Seriously?” Francesca asks.

 

“Yeah.  I stop in every once in a while anyway, to say hey to teachers.  It wouldn’t be weird. Just set your alarm a little earlier so I can have enough time to get ready.”

 

“You’re the best sister ever,” Francesca whispers in the dark.

 

“I mean...I’m just giving you info you should have always had…” Mariana says.

 

“But everybody else kept it a secret, and you didn’t,” Fran points out.  “That makes you the best.”

 

“Thanks.  Try to get some sleep, okay?’ Mari encourages.

 

“You, too,” Fran says back.  “You know, if you’re going with me.”

 

“...Will you come over then?” Mari asks.

 

“I need a light so I don’t trip…” Fran ventures.  

 

The light stabs her eyes, but she goes quickly over to Mariana’s side and crawls into her bed, too.

 

“There.  Now we can both sleep, right?” Fran asks.

 

“That’s the plan…” Mariana sighs, and puts an arm around Francesca.  “Love you, Fran.”

 

“Love you more…” Francesca sighs.  

 

She shuts her eyes, and hopes she’ll dream of Timothy.


	35. Father's Eyes

The next morning, Francesca is about to burst from being so excited.  She can’t wait to meet Timothy. She’s been drawing sloth pictures of them both, with their sloth names - his is Slothothy.  And the sloth version of him loves the sloth version of her. Fran hopes it’s the same in real life. 

 

Mariana wants to get to school by 7:45, so that means they are up way earlier than usual.  Mom’s sleeping in because it’s her day off, thank goodness, and Mama’s got a zillion things to do and is happy that Mariana’s offering to walk Fran to school.  

 

They leave with plenty of time, so she and Mari don’t have to rush.  They can just take their time and talk on the way.

 

“Do you think I look okay?” Fran asks.  

 

Today is the first day in a long time that she hasn’t worn one of Grams’ shirts.  Her phone is tucked inside her backpack for safe-keeping. She wore an outfit that went together.  A black shirt that looks kinda like a skirt on the bottom and leggings. Both are printed with colorful confetti.  It’s not Fran’s favorite outfit, but it’s one Moms always say she looks cute in.

 

She also put on a little bit of makeup.  (Mama says makeup makes you look your best - but for it to do that you should look like you’re not wearing any.  She’s been putting pressure on Fran to start wearing foundation and lipstick.) She compromised today, wearing foundation and her favorite Lip Smackers that tastes like Mountain Dew and makes her lips shiny.  Mom doesn’t care about makeup.

 

“What about my hair?” Fran wonders, touching it.

 

“You look great,” Mariana reassures.  “Don’t worry.”

 

“What if he doesn’t like me?” Fran worries.

 

“Then...I’ll help you through it…” Mari reassures, scanning the sidewalk and the street ahead of them.

 

“Still nervous about bad guys?” Fran asks, walking closer to Mari, and slipping a hand in hers.

 

“Yeah,” Mari admits.  “But we’re okay. We have each other,” she says.  

 

Fran isn’t sure if Mariana’s telling her or reassuring herself.

 

“Makeup feels gross on my face…” Fran admits.

 

“You didn’t have to wear that…” Mariana tells her.  She sighs. “But I do remember when Ana came back… When I saw her for the first time…  I did the same thing. Dressed up. Makeup.”

 

“Did it work?” Fran wonders.  “Did she like you?”

 

“She said I looked pretty,” Mariana remembers.

 

“How old were you?” Fran asks.

 

“Fourteen.  And it didn’t exactly go like I hoped it would,” Mariana cautions, squinting behind her sunglasses.

 

“What do you mean?” Francesca asks, worried.

 

“Well...I just mean…  It might not be what you expect.  And if it’s not, know that it’ll suck.  But I’ll be here. And I know what it’s like.  And if it goes well, then that’ll be awesome. And I’ll be so happy for you.”

 

“What if he doesn’t like me because I have CP?” Fran wonders.

 

“I hope that doesn’t happen,” Mariana tells her honestly.  “But if it does, we already know how it feels to have parents treat us differently, right?  Because of...that stuff? So, we know it sucks, but we also know that we can get through it, right?”

 

“Yeah, but I just really want one parent to love me all the way,” Fran admits, sighing.

 

“I want that for you, too,” Mariana says squeezing her hand.

 

It reminds Francesca of dinner after Mama released the bad pictures of Jesus and Mariana.  Of Brandon’s thing he told the news about her being special needs and about Mama not getting it at all.

 

“Remember, at dinner that one night when Mama was talking about that Brandon’s thing he told the news was nice to me, and I said it wasn’t?” Fran asks.

 

Mariana nods.

 

“How come you squeezed my hand not to talk?” Fran asks.  

 

“Because it was dangerous,” Mariana admits.  “And I was protecting you.”

 

“Because I thought you wanted me to talk about what’s bothering me, and tell the truth about my feelings…” Fran ventures.

 

“I do.  But sometimes, we have to wait until we’re somewhere safer.  Somewhere just us, like now, or just The Avoiders, before we tell the truth about our feelings.  I’m sorry. I just...didn’t want you to get hurt…”

 

“Like when I ended up talking back and Mom threatened me,” Fran says knowingly.  “That probably wouldn’t have happened if you or Jesus was there to squeeze my hand…” Fran ventures.

 

“I wish we were,” Mariana says sadly.

 

“It’s okay.  I learned not to do that anymore,” Francesca admits.

 

“But you’re still nervous around Stef,” Mariana points out.

 

“Yeah, aren’t you?” Fran asks.

 

Mariana nods.  

 

They’re in front of Anchor Beach now and Fran isn’t sure she’s ready for this, but it’s happening.  She takes a deep breath.

 

\--

 

They walk into school.  It’s 7:40. Twenty minutes before school even starts.  They even have five extra minutes than Mariana wanted. They walk up to the office and the secretary just waves them on.

 

“Mariana, go on ahead,” she says.

 

“It’s like they feel bad for you,” Fran whispers, wrinkling her nose.  “You never have to sign in. Do they think you can’t write or something?”

 

Mariana shrugs.  “I don’t care. I’ll take it.  If I don’t sign in, Lena won’t know I was ever here.”

 

“Oh, good,” Fran nods, and they walk the long way around, avoiding Mama’s office.

 

They stop outside a class that Fran just walks past normally.  Doesn’t go in. Mariana asks, “Are you ready?”

 

To be honest, Francesca doesn’t think she’ll ever be ready, but she nods anyway.  They only have a little bit of time before school starts and Fran doesn’t wanna miss her chance to see her bio dad for real.  To see what he looks like. His face. His eyes. Hear how he talks. If he recognizes her.

 

Fran gulps and nods.  “Stay with me?” she asks.

 

“I won’t leave you here,” Mari promises.  She walks into the doorway and knocks on the open door.  A man with longish dark hair is writing on the board and turns around.

 

Fran doesn’t feel anything.  She doesn’t feel connected automatically and feel like that’s somebody she shares DNA with.  It just feels like a teacher from school. She has seen him before, which is even weirder.

 

“Hey, Timothy,” Mariana greets, like it’s no big deal, and she comes here all the time.

 

“Hey, Mariana.  Good to see you,” Timothy greets.  He has an accent. Kind of talks British.  Another thing Fran didn’t expect. 

 

“This is my sister, Francesca,” Mariana introduces.

 

And Fran smiles, and steps forward a little.  “Hi,” she offers, feeling shy.

 

But Timothy doesn’t say anything back.  Doesn’t even look at her. “So, how’s, uh, everything going? Looks like you’re coming back stronger than ever.  I’m glad.”

 

He’s just talking to Mariana, not Francesca at all.  Not even looking at her.

 

What’s going on?  Doesn’t he know it’s rude to ignore people?

 

“Thanks,” Mariana says, uncomfortable, like she always is when people bring up what happened to her.

 

“Well, I hate to rush you off, but I have a lot to do today.  We’ll have to catch up sometime when I’m less busy. Sixth graders, you know?” he jokes, smiling at Mariana.

 

It doesn’t really even look like Francesca’s smile.

 

“I’m in sixth grade,” Francesca offers, her voice super quiet.

 

But then other kids start coming in the room.  And she and Mariana have to leave. Timothy never talks to Fran once.  Never even looks her in the eyes.

 

\--

 

“Why did he do that?” Fran asks, at her locker.  It’s super noisy and Fran can barely hear herself think with all the kids talking and lockers slamming.

 

“Sometimes bio parents can be jerks.  But I am sorry,” Mariana reassures. She reaches down to give Fran a hug.  “You deserve to have parents who love you all the way. But you do have a sister who loves you all the way.  And a brother and lots of Avoiders, too.”

 

“It’s not the same,” Fran pouts.

 

“I know.  Listen, I gotta go now, okay?  But you have choir again this morning, right?  So put it in there.”

 

Fran cocks her head.

 

“Put your feelings in the songs, or whatever,” Mari encourages, turning to walk away.

 

“Wait!” Fran yells, running after Mariana.  “Don’t walk home alone,” she insists.

 

Mariana smiles and puts an arm around her.  “I’m not. I’m calling Jesus for a ride. I’ll be okay.  Promise.”

 

\--

 

Mariana might be okay but Francesca isn’t.  

 

She kinda thought about what if Timothy didn’t like her, but she thought more about him smiling and saying hi and that it was nice to meet her.  Maybe that they looked alike or something.

 

But like it is right now?  It feels like Timothy hates her and doesn’t want anything to do with her.  

 

She tries to do what Mariana said for choir and put all her feelings into the songs but it doesn’t really help much.  To sing songs about how good it is to have music doesn’t really change how bad it is to have your bio dad not want you.

 

Fran has the hardest time concentrating the rest of the day.  She can’t stop thinking about how it’s because she’s her that Timothy ignored her.  Fran’s seen Mama do that sometimes with Mari. It always felt rude, but it never happened to her, personally.  It never happened like this.

 

Maybe he wants a perfect daughter with no CP.  Maybe he ignored her because he wished he had a different daughter.  Maybe he doesn’t even want a daughter at all.

 

It’s so confusing because Francesca still really loves knowing that she’s half-Asian.  The only time she focuses at all that day is to tell Shane that, because he is half-Asian, too, but from a different country.

 

“Cool,” he says and smiles, like it really is.

 

She still loves the last name Hasani and doodles it in her notebook on pages she isn’t using.  

 

It’s confusing to love somebody because of who they are, even though they don’t love you back.  Maybe he just needs time to get used to her, like the kids in her class. Most of them are respectful now and stand up for her against Michael 2 and the others who have parents with bad opinions about people with disabilities.  Maybe Timothy just needs more time.

 

She draws Slothcesca giving Slothothy a watch, like from the olden days.  Slothcesca says, “Take all the time you need.”

 

\--

 

Francesca finally talks to Dominique after school.  It feels like it’s been a long time since they’ve talked.

 

She tells Dominique about the information she found out about her bio dad.  His name and how he looks. Last, she tells Dominique how he acted.

 

“I don’t think that was right, do you?” Fran wonders, petting Roberta.

 

“I don’t either,” Dominique agrees.  “But now at least you know who he is.”

 

“And I know my other 50 cents is Asian,” Fran adds thinking about her conversation with Dominique before they left the cabin, about how half of who she was felt like a ginormous mystery.

 

“That’s true,” Dominique nods.  “That’s awesome.”

 

“Do you still wanna be my friend?” Francesca asks suddenly.  “I mean, none of the other Avoiders are Asian…”

 

“Babe, of course I wanna be your friend.  You’ve always been half-Asian, and I’ve always loved you.  It’s just now  _ we know  _ you are.”

 

“Timothy doesn’t love me,” Fran observes, picking at a thread in the carpet.  “I thought maybe he just needed more time...but your parents didn’t need more time to love you…  They just did it. I think it’s because I have CP. Maybe he doesn’t want me because of that.”

 

“You said that before to me,” Dominique remembers.  “With the peon at Levi’s store? That’s something that’s on your mind a lot, huh?”

 

“Yeah, because Moms wish I didn’t.  And I know that for a fact,” Fran nods to herself.

 

“They wish you didn’t have CP?” Dominique asks.

 

“Yeah.  They want normal kids.  Every time I say something is CP they say don’t make excuses.  Or they say Mari and me both have brain damage, like they hate it.”

 

“And you guys don’t deserve that,” Dominique tells Fran.  “You are enough, Francesca. Me, and all the other Avoiders and my parents?  We love you just the way you are... _ because _ you are the way you are.  We love your CP and all the parts of your identity, even the ones you just found out.”

 

“Okay,” Fran says, even though seven people who love you all the way doesn’t feel like very much.  “Is it weird to love him if he doesn’t love me?”

 

“It makes sense you feel a strong connection to him,” Dominique remarks.

 

“And I still really do like Hasani, don’t you?” Francesca asks, sidling up to Dominique.

 

“I do,” Dominique nods.  “Like I said, I like all the parts of you.  Hey, not to side-track the bio dad conversation but my favorite holiday is coming up…” Dominique says like she has a secret.

 

“Your birthday?” Fran asks, wide eyed.

 

“No, silly.  What holiday does everybody get to wear costumes?” Dominique quizzes.

 

“Halloween!” Fran cheers.

 

“Halloween,” Dominique echoes, really happy.  “I might be Maleficent this year with my mom. Do you know what you’ll be?”

 

“I really wanna be a sloth,” Francesca confesses.  She hadn’t really been thinking about it or even knew she was going to say it.  It just popped out of her mouth. Probably from telling Pearl earlier.

 

“Aw, that’s amazing.  Hey,” Dominique says, lightly.

 

“Hey, what?” Fran asks, back to petting Roberta.

 

“Look at me in the eyes?” Dominique asks.

 

Fran glances up.  “What?”

 

“I love you.  Every single thing about you.  Okay? It’s okay to grow and change.  It’s okay to stay the same. It’s okay to wanna be a sloth,” Dominique laughs.

 

Fran does, too.

 

“Okay?” Dominique asks, offering her arms for a hug.

 

“Okay,” Fran agrees, going into them.

 

It’s not the same as Fran imagines a Dad hug, but then again, nothing is the same as a hug from Dominique.


	36. Notice Me

_ Mari hears the click of the handcuffs as they let go of her wrist.  Sees the hand reach toward her. Not Mom. She’s sleeping on the couch, sort of.  Here, but not here. _

 

_ Jesus is still stuck on the railing by the handcuffs.  “Mari!” he yells, pulling. _

 

_ The man ignores Jesus. _

 

_ But he doesn’t ignore her.   _

 

_ He says sorry for doing that. _

 

_ “Sorry, honey.  But you and your brother...you’re safer outside.  We got bad stuff in here. You want a snack?” he asks. _

 

_ Mari nods her head, biting her lip, and rubbing her wrist.  The man acts like he’s going to give her a graham cracker to take back to Jesus.  Then holds it out of her reach.  _

 

_ She reaches high, but he’s too tall.  He tickles her. But it doesn’t take away her hungry.  “Please,” she begs, reaching again, between giggles. _

 

_ “You’ve got the best laugh,” he says, and tickles her more.  But it’s too hard. And Mari can’t breathe. “Stop,” she begs, feeling scared.  He tickles her longer, laughing, too.  _

 

_ “Stop!  Mom!” Mari manages, feeling like she might really run out of air.  Humans need air to breathe to stay alive. If she couldn’t do that, she’d die. _

 

_ Mom doesn’t even see care hear anything.  But it does stop the tickling, and Mari gets the graham cracker. _

 

_ “Okay!  Jeez!” he says like she hurt his feelings.   _

 

_ She turns away, graham cracker in two halves.   _

 

_ She feels a pinch.  Jumps. _

 

_ He says, “Sweet ass,” as she goes outside to share the food with Jesus. _

 

_ Mari is still trying to breathe, tears on her face.  Her face feels hot. _

 

_ “What’s so funny?” Jesus pouts, pulling on his handcuffs. _

 

_ Mari doesn’t even know she’s smiling.  It’s an accident. The wrong feeling stuck on her face.   _

 

_ (But what’s the right feeling?) _

 

_ “Here,” she says, giving him half of the graham cracker.. _

 

_ Mari’s still breathing a lot when she sits down and tries to use an old screw she found to stick in the little hole of the handcuffs like a key. _

 

_ It doesn’t work, but Mari keeps trying.  Keeps breathing, feeling - for the first time - like air might run out.  She breathes as much as she can. Feeling more alive and more scared. A smile still frozen on her face. _

 

\--

 

“Hey, are you okay?” Jesus asks, and Mariana blinks.  Finds herself in the passenger seat of Jesus’s car. “You’re breathing hard.”

 

“Yeah…” Mari manages, still unable to stop herself from breathing more deeply than necessary.

 

“Are you sure?  Why were you at Anchor Beach?  Did something happen?” Jesus asks.

 

“I walked Fran to school,” Mariana says, remembering the way Timothy flat out ignored Francesca.  

 

Mariana knows that feeling so well.

 

“You’re, like, gonna hyperventilate,” Jesus says, concerned.  “Do we need to pull over?”

 

“I’m fine,” Mariana manages, but she still can’t stop pulling in air like she might never breathe again.

 

\--

 

It takes a little while to convince Jesus that she’s fine.  He gets her coffee and a couple of his latest baking inventions - lemon poppyseed protein squares - apparently healthier than a muffin.

 

“I kinda need some quiet.  Can you bring this stuff out to the patio in back?  The little table?” Mariana asks.

 

“Oh, sure,” Jesus agrees.  “Come on, Dudley.”

 

He makes sure Mariana gets safely there first and then doubles back for breakfast, dropping it off at the table with her.

 

“So...I’ll just be upstairs, then?” he asks.  “I mean, unless you want me to be here…”

 

“No.  I mean…  No,” Mariana insists.  “Sorry.”

 

“No problem.  I just didn’t wanna...like...leave you if you needed me.” Jesus says.  Mariana can see in his eyes that he is still more than a little concerned.

 

“I’m good,” Mariana insists.  She smiles that old smile. The one that still feels entirely out of place.  

 

Jesus takes a step back, wary.  “Alright. Call if you need something, otherwise…” he offers her the key fob for the back door.  “So you can get in. Just knock when you get to the apartment? Let me let you in?”

 

“Yeah,” Mariana nods, knowing his apartment key is with the mail key and the fob for the main doors on the keychain.

 

Finally, Jesus leaves.

 

Mariana looks at the food on the table.  Looks at the time. Decides that after 10:30 AM Minnesota time is late enough to be considered decent on a weekday morning and calls.

 

\--

 

“Hey,” Levi says, surprised.

 

“Did I…  I mean, were you sleeping?” Mariana asks.

 

“No, I just woke up.  I’ve got work at noon.  So…” he stretches.

 

“So, I just dropped Fran off at school,” Mariana starts, knowing she can’t say a ton without compromising her sister’s privacy.

 

“Yeah?  How was it?” Levi wonders.

 

“Weird,” Mariana decides.  “Driving back here I had this...vivid...memory, I guess?  I don’t know if you wanna hear it. It’s kinda support group related,” Mariana says, referencing the sexual abuse survivors group that she and Levi are both a part of.

 

“Yeah, I’m here to listen…” he insists, gentle.

 

“I guess...the thing that came through most is that...my mom...Ana...whatever.  My bio mom? She didn’t notice? Didn’t...care what was going on…”

 

“What  _ was _ going on?  Do you wanna share?” Levi asks.

 

“This guy...was…  God, this sounds so stupid, Levi.  Compared to what other people have gone through, and I’m gonna make a big deal about this?” Mariana insists, frustrated.

 

“Listen, if you’re not ready to share, you don’t have to.  But you don’t have to minimize your stuff.”

 

“Can you ask me questions?” she asks, sounding timid.

 

“Sure, if that’s what you need.  So, how old were you?” he wonders.

 

“Four, I think?” Mariana ventures.  “Three or four…”

 

“Okay, and there was a guy.  Did you know him?” Levi wonders.

 

“No.  I mean, he was always around.  But I didn’t really know him.” Mariana relays.

 

“Okay.  If you’re ever not cool a question, or anymore questions, you just don’t have to answer.”

 

“I know.” Mariana says, and she seems more at ease.  Barely.

 

“So, you didn’t really know the guy?” Levi reviews.

 

“No...just...he used to keep me and Jesus out of the way.  When Mom and her friends were in the house. Except this one time he came and got me?  Said he’d give me a snack? But he held it up too high for me to reach and...tickled me.  Like, until I couldn’t breathe. And even after I said stop. It felt like...I could never breathe again?  Like panic? Even though I was laughing, it wasn’t funny. I called for my mom...but she didn’t even…”

 

“She didn’t notice,” Levi nods to himself, remembering her earlier words.  “I’m so sorry, Mariana.”

 

“Then, he gave me the food, and I walked away from him...and he...pinched me.  Said ‘sweet ass…’”

 

“God, you were a baby, though…” Levi mutters, horrified.  “You were three or four, you said?”

 

“We were hungry a lot back then, so I just cared I had the food that I could share with my brother.”

 

“Yeah, of course…” Levi nods.  He’s thinking of peanut butter star cookies.  But shakes his head. This is Mariana’s time. Not the right moment to just go sharing his own memories.  “I hate that that happened to you. I’m so sorry it did.”

 

“It’s nothing,” Mariana says, and Levi can practically hear her shrugging.

 

“It’s not,” Levi counters softly.

 

“I need it...to be nothing…” Mariana manages.

 

\--

 

For a long time after she hangs up with Levi, Mariana just sits outside and watches the sun through the trees.  She can hear kids playing out, most of the time. Remembers when running and screaming and laughing were just kid things she did.

 

There were windows of time when she could do that.  Just be a kid. At six. (Between being bounced back and forth from being reunited with Ana.)  At eight (when the adoption was finalized.)

 

She thinks again of earlier this morning.  Of bringing Francesca to meet Timothy. As much as she warned Fran that the meeting might not go the way she hoped, Mariana had been sure that Timothy would be at least cordial.  At least polite. Screw whatever papers he signed, you know? He’d at least acknowledge her. At least make eye contact.

 

But it was like she might as well not even have been in the room.

 

And witnessing that, she’s sure, has opened the door to Mariana’s past.  The memory of that graham cracker. Of calling for Ana and her not getting up.  Not coming to see what was wrong.

 

It brings out Mariana’s protective nature even more, because some small part of Mari knows that if a child is ignored by their parent, they are in danger.  And if they cannot count on their parents, who the hell can they trust?

 

Mariana will have to redouble her efforts.  Work twice as hard at keeping her sister safe.

 

She takes the keys.  Swipes the fob to open the back door and rides the elevator up to the third floor, empty coffee cup and crumby napkin in hand.  She didn’t remember eating, but she must have.

 

Mariana’s got the key poised to fit in Jesus’s lock before she remembers his words and knocks instead.

 

He pulls open the door.  “Hey. Feel better?” he asks.

 

“Do you remember when I gave you a graham cracker?” she asks, coming in and sitting on the futon.  Dudley smells the coffee cup.

 

“Like...any specific time…or?” Jesus asks.

 

“When we lived with Ana.  The first time. We were little, and I brought you a graham cracker…  Do you remember that?” Mariana asks.

 

“I mean, I remember…  We brought each other food a lot, then…” Jesus admits.  “But I don’t remember a graham cracker. Sorry.”

 

“We shared it,” Mariana adds, hoping this detail might help jog his memory.  (She knows better than to mention the handcuffs to Jesus. He has enough triggers around those from being kidnapped.)

 

“Ah.  Okay…” Jesus adds.  “Are you sure nothing happened today with Francesca?” he asks.

 

“I never said nothing happened,” Mariana insists, looking at him straight on.

 

“Okay, well, you wanna talk to me about it?” Jesus tries again.

 

“I’m trying to, Jesus!  God! What do you think I’m doing right now?!” Mariana exclaims, feeling raw.  Desperate.

 

“Sorry, last time I checked us living with Ana had, like, zero bearing on our life with Francesca…” Jesus snaps, eyes dark.

 

“Except when  _ it does _ ,” Mariana insists.

 

“So, you giving me a graham cracker when we were kids...somehow has something to do with you hyperventilating in my car?” Jesus asks, skeptical.

 

Mariana opens her mouth.  Closes it. When he says it like that, it all sounds dumb.

 

“Never mind,” Mariana breathes.

 

“No, I won’t  _ never mind _ , Mariana.  You’re acting weird.  Tell me what this is about.”

 

“You think I’m ridiculous!” Mariana exclaims.  “And instead of...trying to get it...you’re commenting like...whatever!  You’re just like them…” she trails off. “I thought we believed each other,” she says in a quiet, defeated voice.  “I thought we didn’t...go out of our way...to make the other one feel...stupid…”

 

“Mariana, I’m sorry,” Jesus apologizes.  He pulls a chair up across from her. “I’m just…  I’m freaked out. I never meant to make you feel stupid.  Okay? I didn’t. And I’m sorry I did that. I just...I don’t understand.  I want to, but I don’t.”

 

“Whatever.  It doesn’t matter anyway.  It’s from a million years ago.  Like you said, it has nothing to do with now,” Mariana says, feeling drained.  Feeling humiliated. Feeling small.

 

“It does.  You matter,” Jesus insists.

 

“So, take me fucking seriously…” Mariana manages, frustrated.  “Please. This is important, and you’re just…” she gestures tossing something over her shoulder.

 

“The memory of us as kids…” Jesus starts.  “Did it come up because of something with Fran?” he tries again after a pause.

 

Mariana nods.

 

“Is she safe?” Jesus tries again.

 

Mariana looks at Jesus, like,  _ Really? _ because none of them are safe.  He knows that. Not living where they live.  Not with the parents that they have.

 

“I mean...I don’t know what else to ask…” he admits.  “I wish I could remember the thing with the graham cracker but I just...I don’t.  I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s fine.  It’s not important anyway,” Mariana decides.

 

“Mari, you just said it was,” Jesus points out.

 

“And I changed my mind.  Let’s just forget I said anything, okay?  Please?”

 

( _ “Please?” _ )  

 

( _ Please, don’t push me.  Please, accept my no. Please… _ )

 

“If it’s what you want…” Jesus ventures, still troubled.

 

Mariana nods, relieved.  “It’s what I want.”

 

The silence between them is heavy the rest of the morning, with all the words they’re not saying.


	37. Daughter

On Friday, Fran can hardly wait to be done with school so the weekend can be here - and so she can talk to The Avoiders.

 

She’s back to wearing her usual Grams shirts.  Her usual leggings that don’t always match exactly.  Back to no gross foundation on her face and her coconut pear chapstick.  It feels better to be herself...and also worse. Because Timothy didn’t even like her when she was dressed up, so how could he ever like her when she looked regular?

 

Mariana has been with to pick up Fran yesterday and today, no matter who’s driving - Mom, or Mama, or Jesus.  Francesca likes that. She’s glad she has Mariana to talk to about Timothy stuff. She’s said sorry a bunch for how Timothy ignored her, but Fran knows that’s not even Mari’s fault.  Even told her so. But Mariana still is acting worried.

 

During lunch, Fran escapes to the bathroom when no one’s there, and sends a Polo to all of The Avoiders, telling them about what has been going on:

 

“ _ So, this is for Jesus and Levi mostly, since everybody else knows…  I know who my bio dad is now. Mari remembered his name and even took me to meet him yesterday before school…”   _ She sighs. _ “It didn’t go the greatest, guys… He didn’t talk to me, or even look at me. Just Mariana… I know all of you Avoiders love me a lot...and I’m trying to remember that and do good coping.  So...that’s it, I guess. Oh! No, it’s not! Mari, do you have any stories...you know...of Timothy? Since he taught you? Okay. Bye for real _ .”

 

Even though there’s still time left in lunch, Fran hangs out in the bathroom, just in case one of the Avoiders sees this, and Polos her back.

 

\--

 

“Hold up,” Jesus exclaims, just after noon on Friday.  “Fran’s bio dad is Timothy? Like, high school English teacher Timothy?” 

 

Mariana glances at him.  She’s been quiet since their fight yesterday morning, but they just watched Fran’s Avoider Polo together.

 

“Yeah,” Mari nods.  

 

“That’s...kinda gross, right?  Lena and Timothy?” Jesus insists, and then backtracks.  “I mean...not that Fran’s gross, just...it feels weird.  _ Knowing _ him.  I always figured he was some rando.  I mean, we had less of an idea who our own bio dad was...but Timothy actually taught you.  Most of you, right?”

 

“Except you and Fran.  Lena made sure to switch her out of his class.  That’s what made me remember who he was.” Mariana sighs.  “He was a total ass to her… I would’ve never brought her if I knew he was gonna be like that…”

 

“You didn’t do it on purpose,” Jesus reassures, sitting down near her.  “Besides, she still seems glad she knows. That you were honest with her.  Are you gonna, you know, tell her any Timothy stories?”

 

“I don’t really have any…” Mariana admits.  “Literally the only thing I remember about his class was from before I was even  _ in _ it.  Callie had him sophomore year.  We were - I mean -  _ I _ ...was a freshman.”

 

“No,  _ we _ were,” Jesus reminds her, soft.  “I was home by then. Just not at Anchor Beach…”

 

“So, Callie was a sophomore...Frankie was around two.  And she had this notebook she’d had to write in...for Timothy’s class.  She set it somewhere...specific...and then she came back and saw someone moved it.  Since I was the only other one in the room, she assumed...that it was me.”

 

“Who moved it?  Not Frankie…” Jesus muses.

 

“No, not Frankie.  She couldn’t reach.  It was Talya...you know, back when we hated Talya?”

 

Jesus raises his eyebrows.  He can’t remember any of this.  Even hating Talya.

 

“Anyway, I asked Callie about it after…  Like, what’s the big deal? You know? So, Talya moved your notebook?  Turns out Timothy was having her and another kid write about guilt. Whatever she wrote, was like, super personal…  To this day, she’s pretty sure Talya read it.”

 

“Damn…” Jesus breathes.

 

“Yeah...so...it’s not really my story to share?  The only other ones I have, are, like, boring. English-related.  High school level. I’m trying to remember if Brandon or Jude ever said anything.”

 

“But I mean...you could maybe tell her that Timothy gives his students topics to journal about?  You know, in case she wants to do that? For coping, or whatever?”

 

“I guess…” Mari manages.  She looks exhausted. “I still feel like I shouldn’t have said anything.”

 

“Hey...even though Gabe’s in jail...aren’t you glad you at least know?” Jesus asks.

 

“That he told Ana to get rid of us?  Oh yeah, Jesus, I’m so glad…” Mari says, sarcastic.

 

“Not that part.  Just...the knowing.  Isn’t it better than not knowing?  ‘Cause I think, that even with everything?  Fran sounds glad that she knows…”

 

“I hope so…” Mari comments softly.

 

\--

 

The rest of the day crawls by, sloth-speed, and Fran can’t wait to go home and watch Netflix for hours to forget about Timothy.  And art class.

 

Francesca has always loved art.  Wanted to be an artist when she was younger, even.  But sixth grade art is hard. They have to do things Fran struggles to do, like etching into real actual metal.  She wants to make Dudley, because they have to all pick animals to etch (and Jenny, the teacher, doesn’t have a good sloth picture to choose, but they can bring one from home.)  But already, she tried to get the hang of etching by doing a heart, and already, hers looks all messed up.

 

It’s why she really needs some Netflixing to get her mind off school.  She thought art would be a class where she could get an A or a B, easy.  Now, Fran feels like she’ll be lucky if she passes at all.

 

When Jesus picks Fran up, Mariana’s in the car, too.

 

“Did you hear about my bio dad, Jesus?” Fran asks, getting in.

 

“I did, yeah,” he glances around, kinda nervous.  “Put your seatbelt on, okay?”

 

“Can we stay over tonight?” Fran asks.

 

“I don’t think so.  I have a thing tonight, and so does Mari.  But maybe another night?” he asks.

 

“Okay,” she sighs.  Jesus drops them off at home, because he’s feeling triggery and needs to be in his own space without a lot going on.  Mariana says it’s because it’s still the week he got kidnapped. That actually, it happened on a Friday, and it’s Friday now.

 

Francesca knows if Moms catch her watching Netflix before her homework is done she’ll be in trouble, so she gets right to work.  She does homework until dinner and then she’s finally done. The only thing she’ll have to do is help clean up. 

 

“I’m so excited to Netflix and chill…” she sings, rinsing dishes to put in the dishwasher.

 

“Francesca Rose,” Mama warns.

 

“What?” Fran says.

 

Mama’s out here now with her hands on her hips.  

 

( _ Uh-oh _ .)

 

“What did you say?” she warns.

 

“I’m so excited to Netflix and chill?” Fran asks.

 

“Why would you say that?” Mama demands.

 

“Because I wanna watch Netflix...and chill…” Fran explains, in case Mama doesn’t get it.  “Why are you so mad?” 

 

“Because I don’t like hearing my  _ eleven-year-old daughter _ talk about sex!” Mama exclaims.

 

Francesca’s face gets hot.  “Oh, my gosh! I’m not!”

 

“That’s what it means, Frankie.  You need to be aware of these things before you go around saying them.”

 

“This is so embarrassing.  It’s not about that when I say it.  Gosh,” Fran mutters, as Mariana walks over with the last of the dishes from the table and gestures.

 

“Can I have the…?”

 

“The what?” Fran wonders.

 

“The thing.  Right there.”  Except it looks to Francesca like Mariana could be pointing to the whole sink.  The dishwasher. And Francesca herself.

 

Mama throws up her hands and goes back to the living room.

 

Fran tries to look where Mari’s looking.  She points to a sponge. “This?”

 

“No.”

 

“This?” Fran moves aside and opens the cupboard where the garbage is hiding.

 

“No.”

 

“This…” Fran holds up a fork from the dishwasher in case Mari needs to scrape a plate.

 

“No!  Just back up…” she snaps and Fran steps away from the sink.  Watches Mari take the dishcloth from the divider in the sink and run water on it.  

 

Mari’s quick at wiping the table.  She’s done and going upstairs before Fran is even done.  

 

She doesn’t notice Mom going upstairs, too.

 

\--

 

“Miss Thang, what do you think you’re doing?” Stef asks.

 

Mariana rolls over and stares at her. 

 

“Now is not the time for taking naps and being sad.  Get up,” she swats Mariana on the hip with something lightly.  It doesn’t hurt, but it sends tingles over half of Mariana’s body.  

 

What Stef did just now feels uncomfortably close to the memory of the guy back at Ana’s, pinching her butt out of nowhere.  She sits up, if only to protect that part of herself.

 

“After dinner, it’s rehab.  You know that. Now, how do you expect to ever go back to school if you don’t know what this is?” Stef tosses the dishcloth at Mari.  It lands in her lap.

 

Mariana’s mind spins.  What is Stef even saying?  Six months ago, Moms told her she couldn’t go back to school.  And now it’s suddenly expected?

 

“What is it, Mariana?” Stef asks, impatient, gesturing to the dishcloth.

 

“Crap,” Mariana responds.

 

“I am trying to help you right now!  I don’t need your attitude! Now, what is this I’m holding?”  She grabs the dishcloth off of Mariana’s lap.

 

“Leave!” Mariana insists, swiping her own pillow off her bed and onto the floor.

 

“Fine.  I will leave,” Stef says.  She bends down, picking up Mariana’s pillow and tucking it under an arm.  “Maybe losing this will teach you not to throw it.”

 

“Stop!” Mariana insists.

 

“No, Mariana,  _ you _ stop!  You act like a child and you’ll get treated like one!” Stef snaps, slamming the door.

 

The damn dishcloth is still on the floor.  Mariana opens the bedroom door and pelts it out into the hall.

 

“I’m leaving that right there for you to pick up when you’re done having your tantrum,” Stef insists.

 

Alone, and overloaded, Mariana sobs.  She screams. Her head is splitting. She tips their smaller bookcase, books spill out all over the floor.  She rips all the blankets off her bed. Then she sinks down into the blankets, feeling powerlessly small.

 

\--

 

“What are you doing?” Fran asks, quietly.

 

Mom’s walking down the hall with Mariana’s pillow.  She doesn’t answer so Fran follows her downstairs, where Mom finds Mari’s laptop on the kitchen counter and her phone left behind on the table.  Then, Mom walks upstairs. Locks everything in hers and Mama’s bedroom.

 

“Don’t touch that,” she warns, pointing to the dishcloth on the floor in the hall.  “Mariana is picking that up.”

 

Fran can hear Mariana, so upset about whatever Mom said.  Things are tipping over. She’s crying. Screaming. Fran wants to help.  But she doesn’t know what to do. She wishes she could Polo her, but Mari doesn’t have her phone.

 

Bravely, Francesca knocks.

 

“It’s me,” Fran tells Mariana from outside the door.  She bends down to pick up the dishcloth. If it stays on the slippery wood floor, she or Mari is going to fall over it, for sure.  She balls it up and shoves it in her shirt pocket, taking out her phone, so there’ll be room for it.

 

More noise.  Crying. Stuff shattering.  Fran’s heart races and breaks all at the same time.  She hates Mom a lot for making Mariana’s feelings be too much.

 

Fran feels tears falling down her own face.  She knows it’s better to wait for the noise to stop before she goes in.  So she stays outside, even though she wants to go check on her sister more than anything.  When she doesn’t hear any extra sounds with the crying, Francesca eases the door open.

 

Sees Mariana on a bunch of her blankets on the floor.  Crying. Francesca shuts the door behind them. Locks it with the key she’s had in her hand ever since Mom walked away.  Tucks the key in her shirt pocket with the dishcloth.

 

Fran just waits.  And tears fall some more.  She doesn’t try to touch Mariana because she’s shaking.  And she has her old baby blanket that looks like a rag all balled up in one hand.

 

After a while, Fran’s leg can’t hold her up anymore and she goes down on her knees next to Mari.  “You can have my pillow…” she offers softly. “I don’t even like pillows…”

 

Mariana sniffs and keeps breathing very deep.

 

Francesca thinks about the giant scar Mariana has on her head.  Of how much her scars can hurt even now if she bumps them wrong.  Fran thinks of how much it will hurt Mari to sleep without a pillow.

 

“Here,” Francesca offers, her own voice wobbly from tears.  She stands up and gets her pillow. In the same  _ Frozen _ pillowcase she’s had forever.  Fran puts it on the floor next to Mariana, and Mariana just leans forward and lays her forehead down on it.  Still shaking. Still breathing hard.

 

“Did Mom hurt you?” Fran asks, in a whisper.

 

Mariana nods.  Shakes her head.  Shrugs.

 

“If you think she did, then she did,” Fran encourages.  “And I believe you.”

 

Mariana looks up at Francesca with the saddest eyes, and an expression that says she can’t believe anybody ever would.

 

“Sorry,” Mariana chokes out.  “Sorry,” she says again, through tears.  “Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.”

 

“I’m okay.  You didn’t hurt me at all.  You don’t have to say sorry if you don’t want to…” Fran manages.

 

Mariana goes quiet.

 

Avoider Polos keep going off but Fran’s ignoring them.  Because this is more important. Mariana is more important.  “You want me to get Levi for you? Or Jesus? Or Dominique? Or Pearl?” Fran asks, listing them slowly.

 

“No…” Mariana manages, her voice hoarse.  “You.”

 

“Okay…” Fran says, still crying.  She tries to breathe her tears in.

 

After a long time, Mariana can move again.  And Francesca watches her go to lie down on her pretty much bare mattress with just a white thing on the bottom.

 

“You can sleep here tonight,” Fran says, offering her own bed.

 

Mariana turns and looks a little unsteady, like she’s dizzy.  But Fran still doesn’t touch her because Mariana looks like she’s scared right now, under all the sadness.

 

“Just go sloth-speed,” Francesca encourages.

 

When Mariana gets in Fran’s bed, Fran does, too, after she turns out the light.  She doesn’t care it’s early. She doesn’t care what Moms will say whenever they eventually find them here.

 

She just cares about Mariana.

 

When her big sister’s arm comes around her, Francesca snuggles closer.


	38. Fix a Heart

Mariana closes her eyes against the bright glare of Fran’s phone screen.  Even though she has the volume down, it shines like an angry sunbeam targeted at her very soul, and Mari just needs to shut everything out.

 

“ _ Fran, is Mari there _ ?” Jesus asks on Marco Polo.  “ _ We both had a thing and she’s not here…  Is everything cool? Polo me back, alright _ ?”

 

“What should I say back?” Fran whispers.

 

Mariana covers her head with Fran’s comforter.

 

“Okay, I won’t do anything now,” Fran says, patting Mari awkwardly though the blanket.  “But just so you know all The Avoiders are worried about you.” She’s dropped her voice to a whisper.  “Including me.”

 

Mariana doesn’t know how she has tears left to cry but she does.

 

“Are you sure I shouldn’t tell them something?” Fran asks.

 

But Mariana can’t answer, except to keep crying.  It feels like she might never stop.

 

\--

 

Jesus finds the spare house key hidden in one of Lena’s hanging potted plants.  He unlocks the door soundlessly. Walks in and up the stairs, praying Mom doesn’t come out here wielding a bat or scissors, like she has in the past, when she doesn’t know who’s at the door.  It’s after eleven. Everyone’s definitely in bed. But Mari’s never no-showed support group before. And never not responded to repeated attempts to check in, without sending some word back that she was okay.

 

Jesus has to make sure she’s okay.

 

Dudley’s tags clink together super loud in the dark.  Jesus wishes he thought to take his whole collar off before coming in.  

 

Oh well.  Too late for that now.

 

Jesus is outside his sisters’ bedroom door now.  He knows he’s not about to just walk in this late at night (or ever.)  

 

He takes his phone out, makes sure the volume’s down and Polos his group with just Mari and Fran.  Types a message on the screen silently:

 

_ I’m outside your bedroom door in the hall.  Don’t be scared. Just came to check in. _

 

\--

 

Fran jumps as a new Polo comes in and chimes the phone right next to her face.  She looks at it. Jesus...outside their bedroom door...right now…

 

Mariana groans.

 

“Jesus is here,” Fran whispers.  “I wanna let him in so Moms don’t find him and think he’s a robber…  Is that okay?”

 

“Don’t care…” Mariana whimpers.  It sounds like she’s still crying.

 

Fran turns on the bedside light and it stabs her eyes.  “Stay under there,” she tells Mari. Fran winces, rubbing her chest where she’d slept with the dishcloth wadded up in the front pocket of her shirt, squishing it against her skin.

 

She tries to walk carefully to the door without making any noise, dropping off the dishcloth in their dirty clothes hamper by the door.  Fran tries to unlock it super quietly, but the little  _ pop _ still sounds loud enough that it might wake up the entire house.

 

Fran sees just Jesus’s shadow.  Dudley smells her, and nudges her with his big, giant head.  She gulps. If she hadn’t seen Jesus’s face barely lit up by his phone’s lightning she would be super scared right now.

 

“Mari says come in if you want,” Fran whispers.

 

\--

 

Jesus walks hesitantly into the room, eyes wide.  All Mariana’s bedding has been torn off her bed and is all over the floor.  A bookcase is tipped with all the books spilling off. Little figurines they had are busted, too.  He’s never seen it like this before. Has no idea what happened.

 

“Are you guys okay?” he asks lowly.

 

“Can I tell Jesus anything?” Fran asks the lump under the covers, which has got to be Mari.  He wonders how often they end up sleeping in the same bed like this. He can remember being two, three, four years old and sleeping right next to Mari all the time.  For safety.

 

“Don’t care…” Mariana’s reply comes back, muffled.  She doesn’t even stick her head out. Jesus is more worried now than ever.

 

Wordlessly, he starts remaking Mariana’s bed.  He’s almost through when he realizes he can’t find Mari’s pillow.  He glances around. Even lifts the bookcase in case it got trapped under there.  But it’s like it’s disappeared.

 

“Mariana…  Where’s your pillow?” Jesus whispers.

 

“Don’t care,” she says again.  This time, Jesus can tell she’s been crying.

 

“I gave her mine to use,” Fran shares.

 

Jesus nods, tipping their bookcase right-side up again and he and Fran shove books back where they go.  Fran puts all the little figurines back on the shelves. Luckily none broke too badly.  But there are broken shards of something in the corner, which he goes and picks up carefully.

 

When he’s done, Jesus pulls out a chair and sits.

 

“Mariana, can you talk?” Jesus asks, remembering from somewhere that yes or no questions are easiest for her when she’s upset.

 

“No…”

 

“Can Fran tell me?” he asks.

 

No answer.

 

“Sorry, she doesn’t want any other Avoiders.  Just me,” Francesca explains. “I asked.”

 

“Ah…  You need anything?” Jesus asks.

 

Fran casts a worried look over her shoulder at Mariana.  “I need Mom to stop being mean to her…” Fran says, her voice breaking.

 

“Okay.  Hey… Okay, buddy.  I need that, too,” Jesus reassures, holding onto Francesca and patting her back.  “Is that why you locked the door?” he wonders.

 

Fran nods against his shoulder.

 

“Okay.  I want you to listen to me.  Can you listen and hug?” he asks gently.  

 

Fran nods, her breath catching.  Her crying all but silent. (Jesus knows it started out normal-volume, but she’s learned to do it softer, first for him.  And now, he guesses, it’s so Moms won’t overhear.)

 

“I am so proud of you.  You’re doing so great right now.  I know this sucks, and it’s a bad situation, okay?  I know that. And I wish I could just come here and take you both away from here, but I can’t.  So in the meantime, we have to keep doing exactly what we’re doing: taking care of each other.”

 

“But that doesn’t do anything,” Fran insists, her voice shaking.

 

“Francesca, that does everything.  Having people in our corner who respect us and love us for all of what makes us who we are?  That’s everything. You respecting Mariana’s privacy right now? That’s awesome. I am so proud of you.”

 

His phone vibrates in his hand.  “Oh, hold on. That’s Dom. She wanted me to let her know how you guys are.”

 

“Can I?” Fran asks, tentative.

 

_ Jesus: _

_ Hi this is Fran.  I am crying, and sad :(  Can we may be come over to your house tomorow w/ u & ur mom & dad plz? :( _

 

_ Dominique: _

_ Oh, babe.  I’m so sorry you’re crying and sad.  I’ll check with my parents now and see if it’s fine if we stop over tomorrow when everyone’s ready.  Is Mariana sad, too? _

 

_ Jesus: _

_ Hi this is Fran.  IDK if she wants me to say :(  I hope we can go to ur house. _

 

_ Dominique: _

_ I’ll let you know ASAP.  Love you both, okay, Fran?  You and Mari. _

 

_ Jesus: _

_ Hi this is Fran.  We love you to. _

 

\--

 

Mariana wakes, sleep-drunk and feelings-drunk.  She vaguely remembers Jesus stopping by, but she knows he must have when she wakes up and sees the state of their room.  Like it got cleaned by some kind of magic. Even her bed looks damn near perfect, except no pillow. 

 

Mari climbs out of bed over top of Fran to go to the bathroom.  It’s while she’s there that she realizes she doesn’t have her phone.  

 

It wasn’t in the bedroom, so it’s probably downstairs.  It’s 9:30 AM, but no one’s up so Mariana scoots down, as fast as she dares, hoping Moms don’t wake up and catch her.  She glances around the kitchen. Her phone is nowhere. It’s when she can’t find her laptop either (which she knows she left on the kitchen island) that Mari knows Mom probably has them locked in her room.  With her pillow.

 

Typical.

 

She sighs.  Needs coffee, and wishes Moms had the timer set to brew even when they didn’t work.

 

“Hey, Miss Thang. Morning,” Stef says, like it’s any other day.  

 

Mariana’s standing in the kitchen and finds a chair.  Sits. She can’t do more than that right now. She watches Stef put the coffee on and then come and sit down across from her.

 

“Listen, I am sorry if I came down a little hard on you last night.  I just care about you, you know?”

 

Mariana nods, mutely, studying the grain of the table.

 

“And I know you’re sorry, too, yes?” Stef prompts.  “For the yelling and the destroying and the throwing things at your mother?”

 

Mariana thinks back to the old habit she and Jesus had as kids, back with Ana.  When she’d make them agree to something they didn’t fully believe, they’d cross their fingers behind their backs.  

 

She shifts her right hand behind her, crosses her fingers and nods.  “Yeah. Sorry,” she says, not looking at Stef at all.

 

“We’ve got to work on those inappropriate outbursts, huh?” Stef says it almost affectionately.  Mariana’s afraid Stef might ruffle her hair or something equally invasive. Mariana has to do something, say something, turn this somehow...

 

Mariana draws a deep breath.  “I...can’t find my phone…” she manages.

 

“That is in my room.  A consequence from last night.  But listen, I’ll give your pillow back tonight, and if you can keep it together today, behavior-wise, you can earn your electronics back, too.  How’s that sound?” Stef asks, like she really wants to know. Like she’s doing Mari a favor.

 

Mariana can’t even speak, she’s so angry.

 

Fran bounds into the kitchen then, wearing her  _ Love My Hair  _ shirt with white leggings and a woven headband in her hair.  “Hey!” She skids to a stop, catching herself on Mariana’s chair, catching sight of Stef.  She’s quieter when she asks: “Can we go to Dominique’s please? I asked last night and she said we could.  All I have to do is call and she can give us a ride…”

 

“Homework done?” Stef asks.

 

“Yesterday before dinner,” Fran tells her.

 

“Good girl,” Stef says shortly.  “Well, Mariana has to pick up the mess she made and then you can go.”

 

“She picked up already,” Fran lies seamlessly.  Mari definitely catches sight of Fran’s fingers crossed behind her.  To account for the fact that it was Jesus - not Mariana - that did the cleaning.

 

“Really?  Let’s see…” Stef says skeptically and disappears upstairs with Fran on her heels.

 

\--

 

“Did you help her with this?” Mom asks Fran, hands on her hips, looking around the spotless room.  Only Francesca’s bed still has wrinkly spots, because she can’t make a bed as good as Jesus. “This was her mess, Frankie.”

 

“I didn’t help.  I promise,” Fran says.

 

“Okay, I don’t have the energy to figure out which one of you lied.  But you can go. Home for dinner.”

 

“Thank you,” Fran says, turning to go downstairs.

 

“Frankie, hold on.” Mom says, calling her back.

 

“Yes?” Francesca says, biting her lip.  Her heart speeds up a little inside her chest.

 

“Keep an eye on Mariana today for me.” Mom insists bending down to Francesca’s height.

 

“Why?” Fran asks, wary.  “She’s the big sister.  _  She _ keeps an eye on  _ me _ …”

 

“Well, right.  She  _ used to _ .  But now you have to step up and be the big sister.  I need you to be my detective, okay?”

 

Fran feels weird feelings uncurling inside her.  “Spy on her?” Fran asks.

 

“Oh, my baby, no.  Not  _ spy _ .  Just...Mariana needs some extra watching now.”

 

“What am I watching for?” Fran asks, suspicious.

 

“Outbursts,” Mom says, serious.  “Anything that would get you grounded.  If she does it? I want to know. Yelling.  Breaking things. Destroying property.”

 

“Mom..I…” Francesca hesitates.

 

“Frankie, your sister just needs some extra help.  You wanna help her, don’t you?” Mom says, holding both her hands and looking into her eyes.  (It’s so uncomfortable.)

 

“Yeah…” Francesca ventures, but she’s not feeling one-hundred percent about this.

 

“That’s my good girl,” Mom says, kissing her forehead.  

 

It feels awkward.  Like how the librarian stamps a book so Fran can take it home.   Fran feels like property, Not like a real human. 

 

\--

 

They’re on their way out the door a half hour later.  Stef looks disappointed to be letting Mariana go, but their room is clean.

 

It’s the biggest relief to walk into Jaimie and Michael’s in time for Michael’s quiche and fresh coffee.

 

(A good thing, as neither she, nor Fran, had eaten breakfast before they left.)

 

“Where’s Jesus today?  Does he wanna join us?” Michael asks.

 

“At home,” Francesca shrugs.  “But I can call and see if he wants to come for brunch.”

 

It’s nice. Relaxing.  Except that Mariana can’t relax.  They’re partway through the meal when Fran leans over and whispers to Dominique.  Dominique nods.

 

“Mari,” Francesca whispers.  “Can you come?”

 

Confused, Mariana stands up.  She follows Fran to Dominique’s room.  Mariana sits on the bed as Fran closes the door behind them.

 

“I can’t tell anybody else about this and it’s making me feel terrible!” Francesca exclaims in a rushed whisper.

 

“Okay.  Slow down?” Mariana asks.  She waits for Fran to take a breath.  “What can’t you tell?”

 

“Mom said I should watch you…” Fran mumbles.

 

“Watch me?” Mari wonders.  Her insides sink. “How?”

 

“Like a detective?  To see if you do any bad stuff…” Fran admits.  “She said I have to be the big sister now and watch you.  She tricked me into saying yes, Mariana, I didn’t mean to…” Fran worries.  “She said it was helping you and asked said ‘ _ You wanna help her, right _ ?’  So I said yes, but it was just an accident.  I won’t really tell her, even if your feelings get too much…”

 

There is no way Mariana can process all of this right now.  She’s feeling so much - hurt, angry, overwhelmed- that she just takes a deep breath and tries to lock everything inside.  (She definitely can’t afford any Elsa moments with Stef recruiting Fran for spying duty…) It’s better to keep the feelings buried if she can.  Safer.

“I’m sorry,” Mariana sighs.  “You don’t deserve that.”

 

“You still are my big sister, right?  It didn’t get reversed?” Fran asks, worried.

 

“It didn’t get reversed.  You okay? Wanna go finish?” Mariana wonders. 

 

“I guess,” Francesca admits, taking Mariana’s hand.  “No offense to Michael, but I really don’t like quiche.  I like regular eggs…”

 

\--

 

“So, did Dominique tell you?” Fran asks, after brunch.  She and Jesus are sitting at the table with Michael. (He got there when Fran was in Dominique’s room with Mari.)

 

“Tell me what?” Michael asks.

 

“That I found out who my biological dad is.  Did you ever?” Francesca asks.

 

“I did.  My mom had already passed.  My biological mother. But my biological father was still alive.  I found him as an adult, before I got married or had Dominique.”

 

“Oh.  I found mine when I was eleven.  Just on Thursday morning I got to meet him.”

 

“How’d that go?” Michael asks, curious.

 

“Eh, half and half,” Fran shrugs.  “Half good because I know stuff about him and myself.  But half bad because of his reaction.”

 

“What was his reaction?” Michael asks, concerned.

 

“He kinda ignored me?” Fran asks.  “I thought that was rude. So did Mari.”

 

“Definitely doesn’t seem polite…” Michael remarks.  “How are you doing with that?”

 

“Mixed up…” Fran ventures.  “Like, I feel like I have to love him?  Because he’s tied to me, kind of? But then I feel kind of mad at him for treating me like that?”

 

“I really understand those feelings,” Michael nods.

 

“‘Cause your bio dad was rude to you?” Fran wonders.

 

“Because...I think it’s hard...feeling like we ought to love somebody out of obligation.”

 

Francesca cocks her head.

 

“Well, let me put it to you like this…  If he wasn’t your bio dad...would you feel like you had to love this person?”

 

“No,” Fran says, sure.

 

“We love, in the best and purest way, when we choose it.  It’s at its most special and amazing concentration when two people both choose to love each other.”

 

“Like getting married?” Fran wonders.

 

“That’s one kind of love.  There’s also a sibling love, like what you have with Jesus and Mariana and Dom.  Y’all chose to care about each other, right?”

 

“Because we’re the same, and it’s hard being like us,” Fran shares.

 

“Right, so you rely on each other for support.  That’s a good thing. But your bio dad? Right now?  He’s just a guy. He’s not in your life. He hasn’t chosen to love you…”

 

( _ Neither did Mom _ , Fran thinks.   _ She just got a sixth kid when Mama wanted to have her, and Mom loved Mama, so _ …)

 

“So, I don’t think you have to feel obligated to love him.  Maybe as time goes by and you grow up, you’ll get closer. But there’s no rush right now.  Am I losing you?”

 

“Huh?” Fran asks, blinking.

 

“Buddy?  You okay?” Jesus asks.

 

“I’m here,” Fran insists, but really, she feels a million miles away.  

 

\--

 

Somehow, Mariana, Dominique and Jaimie have all managed to sneak away from brunch and are hanging out in Dominique’s room with Roberta.

 

It’s quiet in here, with Dom and Jaimie just sitting with her.  It helps that they don’t pressure her.

 

“Stef, like...made Francesca agree to watch me…” Mariana admits.  “‘Cause I freaked out last night…”

 

“Were you okay?” Jaimie asks.

 

“No…” Mariana admits, wiping her eyes.  “They make me feel stupid...all the time…”

 

Dominique looks at Mariana, sympathetic.  “Is that what happened? Stef made you feel stupid?”

 

Mariana nods.  “ _ How are you supposed to go to school if you don’t know what this thing is?” _ she quotes.  “She already told me I couldn’t go before.  Now she’s like…”

 

She can’t tell them about Stef swatting her with the dishcloth and how that felt.  About all the toddler-memories it brought back up. It’s too raw. Too much. She can’t say that.

 

She can’t say anything...about that.

 

“That’s not fair,” Jaimie offers.  “Sounds like they don’t really talk to you on a regular basis and get your feelings about things.”

 

“Tell me,” Mariana mutters.

 

“They what, babe?” Jaimie asks, patient.

 

“They  _ tell me _ ...how to feel…  _  Now’s not the time to be sad.  Keep it together. You don’t get to quit right now _ …” she remembers.

 

“Mariana…” Jaimie says gently.  “You have every right to feel sad.  You’ve got a lot to grieve…”

 

“--Y’all have terrible parents, for one thing…” Dominique mutters under her breath.

 

An unexpected laugh bubbles out of Mariana.  “Oh, my God…”

 

“Dominique,” Jaimie reprimands lightly, a smile fighting its way to her face.

 

“Tell me you didn’t mean their parents when you said that…” Dominique challenges, laughing.

 

“I’m saying...it does feel sad...to not be able to talk to the people you should be able to trust…and they’re treating you in a way that it…  It’s just not right.”

 

“I wanna leave…” Mariana admits.  “I wanna get out of there...but… Fran keeps asking me not to leave her.  And I just couldn’t. I couldn’t leave and know she was back there…”

 

“It sucks,” Dominique remarks.

 

“It does,” Jaimie echoes.  “But if you two ever need a break from home?  You’re always welcome over here, if it’s something like...they’re putting limits on y’all going to Gateway…”

 

“Took my pillow…” Mariana confesses.  Jaimie’s talk of limits letting that piece of the story have an out.

 

“Your mom took your pillow?” Jaimie asks, like she couldn’t possibly have heard right.”

 

Mariana nods.  “Locked it in her room…”

 

“Why?” Jaimie asks, horrified.

 

“Pushed it off my bed…” Mariana admits.

 

“Oh, your poor head…” Dominique winces.  “Is it okay?”

 

Mariana shrugs.  “Fran shared. But it...like, made me think of...when Jesus and I were little?  When we didn’t have pillows. Had to sleep on the floor,” she confesses, getting dangerously close to the rest of it.  The stuff she can’t ever say.

 

“I’m so sorry, Mariana.  They shouldn’t have ever done that,” Jaimie insists, offering to put an arm around her shoulders.  Mariana has her own arms crossed but she leans into it.

 

“ _ You _ don’t do that,” Mariana remarks, matter of fact.

 

“No, ma’am, we do not.  Michael and I have never taken Dominique’s pillow away from her.  And we never would.”

 

Mariana sighs, relieved for Dominique’s sake.

 

Then, incrementally, she leans away from Jaimie.

 

“Sorry I missed last night,” she tells Dom.

 

“It’s not mandatory...but we were worried…” Dominique tells her.  “Need to talk about anything? You know, related?” Dominique offers.  “Mom’s trustworthy, if so.”

 

Mariana risks a glance at Jaimie, hoping Dominique hasn’t suddenly decided to be super open with her mom about the fact that Mariana is in a sexual abuse support group.  Jaimie looks just confused enough to give Mariana reassurance.

 

“No.  I’m good.  I can deal,” Mariana insists.

 

It’s for how long that Mariana’s not so sure of.


	39. Bird Set Free

Pearl has just come back inside, after walking Cleo, when her Messenger app pings.  She settles on the couch with her phone, and very quickly switches over to her laptop when she sees what has come through.

 

She finds herself glad that Levi is at work right now, because Pearl highly doubts she would be able to keep confidences in this moment.

 

She reads:

 

**_Mariana, Pearl_ **

 

_ 2:56 PM _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ Hey. At Dominique’s parents’ right now.  Could not sleep last night so I was thinking...and I remembered that you shared with me about what happened to you when you were sixteen.  So, I thought it might be okay if I shared, too. Some support group stuff. Some life stuff. If you’re up for it… _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ Yes, I’m here.  Just came in w/ Cleo.  Levi is at work until tonight.  I’m all yours. Share away… _

 

_ Mariana:   _

_ So...you know I took Fran to meet her bio dad?  The way he treated her (ignoring) really...IDK… IDK how to say this… _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ Was it difficult? _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ That’s one word for it, yeah.  It’s like...that was a doorway?  One I didn’t know I was walking through...and on the other side are all these old memories.  I’m in our Fri night thing w/ you, so I know you know I have...experience w/ that kind of abuse. _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ I do. _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ I just always thought it was from when I was a little older?  Like 8? But these memories - I’m 3 years old. Maybe 4? And it’s…  IDK.  _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ I can’t talk to Jesus about it bc he wasn’t there when it happened, plus he doesn’t remember some of the specific details around it.  I don’t want to tell him, bc it relates to a trigger for him, and we don’t trigger each other on purpose… Anyway, I tried to talk to him about it and he was acting all weird..and like what I was saying was ridiculous… _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ I bet that was hard.  I know you’re close. Anything you wanna share about the memories? _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ This guy...at Ana’s...he offered to give me food...and instead he…  (Well, not instead, he did give me the food eventually) but....it went from tickling until I couldn’t breathe...to pinching me...to more...he took me in a bedroom...on a mattress...and he...did more. _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ Mariana, I’m sorry.  I’m here. I’m listening. _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ I called out for Ana.  But she was high, so...obviously she didn’t hear me. Or didn’t care.   _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ But like, seeing Timothy ignore Fran like that just...opened up the floodgates, I guess?  Because now I keep feeling like I have to be there for her. Protect her. Because if a parent ignores their child, isn’t that child in a lot of danger? _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ I think it makes a lot of sense that you feel like that.  Especially, given what happened to you as a toddler [sad emoji] _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ But is it...some word here… (real / fair / legitimate?) _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ Are you asking if Fran is at risk for danger like you experienced as a toddler...and later? _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ Kind of? _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ Well, I’ve kind of become a bit of a disability news nerd.  And I know you probably already know this, but I’ve picked up that Fran’s community (and yours) are at a higher risk for that.   _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ Yeah, it’s kinda why I’m freaking out… _

 

_ Pearl _

_ But, that risk doesn’t exist BECAUSE Fran was ignored by her bio-dad.  Your trauma’s equating the two, because similar feelings were evoked. _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ Fran’s bio-dad isn’t responsible for her.  His job isn’t to protect her. So his ignoring her really doesn’t tip the scales one way or another here.  Another important piece to remember is that Fran did have you when Timothy ignored her. So she was not totally vulnerable.  You were there for her. You were making sure she was safe. I don’t know if knowing this helps. (P.S. I’m not trying to talk down to you.  I hope it does not feel that way…) _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ You’re just explaining.  It does help, kind of. Trauma’s annoying, though… _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ That it is.  Did you have more you wanted to share?  I’ve been trying to keep up with your Moms…but I really only get a response from them when I share disability news stories of other parents being awful to their kids w/ disabilities.  _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ What do they say? _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ Oh, they recognize it’s terrible.  Just on the other hand...I know what they’re like at home, from what you and Fran have shared...so it’s like...how much do you really recognize? (@ your Moms) _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ Right...so speaking of Moms...and the other stuff…  Do you wanna hear what happened last night? I kinda need to talk about it, but it’s a lot. _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ I’m here.  I want to listen.   _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ So...this is embarrassing because I still can’t find the word...for something this has to do with.  _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ I’m glad to help if I can.  I won’t embarrass you. _

 

_ Mariana:  _

_ So, it was after dinner.  And we were cleaning up. I’d brought all the dishes over to Fran, and then I needed…something...for the table. _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ Where did you go to get it? _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ The sink. _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ So, maybe you needed a dishcloth to wipe the table down, after dinner? _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ Yes.  That. So, I pointed and asked Fran, but the word for it just wasn’t there.  So, I’m standing there asking her for “the thing” and she’s confused. Because she’s not good with, like, ambiguous directions?  But I couldn’t be more clear?  _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ And I was still raw as hell from the previous day.  With Timothy and the memories. _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ Right. [sad emoji] _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ Eventually I got it...kinda snapped at Fran to move back so I could reach it.  Wiped the table and went up to my room...and Stef followed me… _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ Of course. [unamused emoji] _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ WITH THE THING - THE DISHCLOTH… _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ Why???? OMG… _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ She came in and like..swatted me with it?  Kind of on my hip? Kind of not? But after the memory of the guy pinching me and saying “sweet ass” (because he did that too), it just felt like too much? _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ Yeah.  Yeah, of course it would… _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ I felt...small.   _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ [broken heart emoji] _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ And there she is telling me I can’t expect to go back to school if I don’t know what “this” (dishcloth) is. (Wouldn’t name it. Because that would not teach me anything.)   _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ I told Levi earlier...Stef was pretty clear that I wasn’t ready to go back to school when I talked about it months ago...so it was just kind of like, “What?” _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ Yeah, where is this coming from, Stef? _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ Right!  So she starts in about how I have to do therapy after dinner and I should know that and then asking me what the damn dishcloth is...like I’m stupid.   _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ So, you’re already triggered, and she’s demeaning you on top of it. _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ Yeah.  So, I snapped at her.  Told her to leave. Pushed the pillow off the bed and onto the floor...and she picks it up and leaves with it.  Says it will teach me not to throw it. _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ OMG you don’t take someone’s pillow! _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ My head hurts bad enough WITH a pillow.  Plus, she just brought the memories out MORE because obviously Jesus and I never had pillows.  We never even had beds. We went from sleeping in a crib, to sleeping on the floor on blankets. _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ I’m so disappointed in her…  How dare she? Especially knowing your background.  Knowing you just had surgery. _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ Of course, she left the damn dishcloth there.  And I was just overwhelmed by then. Humiliated. Ashamed. Angry. Because of my limitations. The memories. Knowing what Stef (and Lena) think of me. That they have absolutely no respect for me.   _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ So, I followed Stef and threw the damn dishcloth at her out into the hall.   _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ She said, “I’m leaving that there for you to pick up when you’re done with your tantrum…” _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ [angry emojis]  I can’t with her.  So, what happened then, if you wanna share?  You weren’t okay, obviously? _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ Remember, at the cabin, I kinda shared about how feelings are for me? _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ The cotton they’re under?   _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ The other thing. _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ Oh!  You’re like Elsa!  You can’t control your powers when emotions get too strong. _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ I mean… I did say that. I wanted Fran to be able to relate to what I was going through by using something accessible to her that hopefully wasn’t too scary. _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ Okay.  Yeah, that makes sense. _

 

_ Mariana:  _

_ But it’s less about losing control. It’s...more about feeling impotent? Living in a world where NOTHING you say is even worth consideration. Living in a state of constantly being demeaned, dismissed and misunderstood.  _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ I feel so damn powerless all the time. Speaking about control? I HAVE NONE. Every moment of my day is scheduled. Everything I feel is policed. Everything I say is brushed off, misunderstood or corrected. _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ That sounds so demeaning.  Humiliating. Awful. To have such a big change in your life already, and to need to adjust to that...and then...to have your parents actively policing you, silencing you, constantly correcting you…  No wonder you’re feeling powerless. _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ So, I was shaking. Screaming.  Crying. Feeling.  _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ Because those feelings have to come out.  It’s understandable. _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ Ripped everything off my bed.   _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ Knocked over the bookcase.   _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ Threw a coffee cup at the wall.  But even after… _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ Even after? _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ I still felt used?  Scared? Like I couldn’t breathe?  _

 

_ Mariana:  _

_ But IMO, it’s not so much that I “lost control.” It’s that I crave it. I need it.  _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ That’s a really important distinction.  Thank you for trusting me with it. _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ And if destroying things makes S&L sit up and take notice FOR ONCE, then hey. It’s just stuff. And honestly, destruction matches how I feel. So. Bonus. _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ Right. _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ I’m so sorry that happened.  I wish I could think of more to say that would convey how much I feel about this… _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ But I know you get it. _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ To an extent, yes. _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ So, Francesca eventually came in.  She gave me her pillow and let me sleep in her bed with her.  (It’s the only way I can get any sleep now...) But like I said it wasn’t a very restful night.  Jesus came and I guess he picked up and checked in with us. Then this morning, Stef gave me this line of crap about how she’s sorry but she did it because she cares. _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ My mother’s favorite line, too… [unamused face]  Probably just an excuse to get you to apologize… _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ It was.  So, I did, because… _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ You had to.  You had no choice, I know. _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ And then she told me I could have my pillow back tonight and that she’d give me my phone and laptop back (didn’t even know she had them) tonight if I could “keep myself together” and get “a handle on my inappropriate outbursts.” _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ SHE violated YOU and somehow you’re in the wrong… _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ She even tricked Fran into spying on me.  To let Stef know if I step a toe out of line when I’m not around her.   _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ She’s not gonna do it, is she?  Fran? _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ No, I don’t think so.  She came to me and told me about it right away.  She was confused and worried. Stef told her some crap that she has to be the big sister now because I need “extra watching” and “extra help.” _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ Wow…   _

 

_ Mariana:  _

_ Yeah…  Luckily they let us come over to Dominique’s parents for a while…  and Michael let me use his laptop. _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ If you ever need to talk to me..about anything...I’m here.  If messaging is easier for you than talking, let’s do that. You need to have an outlet.  A way to let all this out. _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ Well, it’s still hard.  The right words still go wherever they go.  And it takes time to find what I mean, and how to articulate it.  But the meaning...I think it does come through a little clearer like this. _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ I see.  I just want you to know that I’m here.  I wish there was more I could do than just interact with your Moms from a distance.  A lot of good it’s doing. _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ I’m glad you’re talking to them.  It helps knowing. _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ Knowing? _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ That someone has our back, I guess. _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ I do.  And I know Levi does, too. _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ How are you doing that he’s still at SuperOne? _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ It’s not ideal...but he’s struggling a bit to get the gumption up to talk to the manager.  To put in his two weeks. _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ Doesn’t want to let anyone down / be a disappointment. _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ That could be… _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ I was a perfectionist like that.  It makes sense to me. Just support him.  Give him time. Let him know you have confidence in him and it will be okay.  That he’ll be happier at the other store… _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ Thank you.  I’ll try. I’m gonna check in with you more, okay? _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ I mean, you don’t have to… _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ Mariana, I know I don’t have to.  But you and Francesca need support.  And you’re sure not getting it from Stef or Lena… _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ So…? _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ So, I’m saying I want to be there.  Can I? _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ If you really want to, I guess.  If we’re not too much sadness and depression. _

 

_ Pearl:  _

_ I love both of you.  Your sadness and depression are valid.  I want to be there. Message me anytime. And I am going to mark down some Ms in my calendar so I can check in more frequently. _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ Because checking in with me is too much… _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ No, because I’m 38 now, and the older you get, the more stuff you have to hold in your head at a time.  It’s a comment on me, not you. I promise. _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ Thanks for listening.  I have to go, though. Gotta be home for dinner.  [awkward face] _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ Oh, boy… _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ Right???  So send us good thoughts or energy or whatever.  We need it, going back there. _

 

_ Pearl: _

_ You got it.  Thanks, Mariana.  For opening up. I won’t share this with anyone. _

 

_ Mariana: _

_ [heart emojis] Bye, Pearl.  Love you. Thank you for being here. _


	40. Story of My Life

It doesn’t matter how much Mariana talks to Pearl.  She’s never going to be ready for Moms picking her and Fran up from Jesus’s (because they only wanna drive as far as they have to, and five minutes is better than fifteen…) and go out to eat.

 

She’s never particularly liked pizza.  Fran does, but not the kind served at Cucina, where Moms have insisted on going, for forever.

 

“Why couldn’t Jesus come?” Fran whines.  “And then we could go somewhere else besides pizza…”

 

“Because, Jesus is busy,” Lena insists, even though he wasn’t.  

 

Saturday nights, their only plan was Avoider time from 6:00 to 7:00.  It’s already after five. Mariana’s already preparing herself to miss it.  Glad that she had the chance to really connect with Pearl. 

 

“You know, most kids would be glad for the opportunity to go out and eat,” Stef points out.

 

Fran looks at Mariana guiltily.  “Sorry…” she apologizes.

 

For the rest of the drive, Moms talk.  Mariana and Francesca are quiet in the back.

 

Mari flinches when Lena slams on the brakes, hard.  Avoiding someone who pulls in front of them suddenly.

 

“Seriously?!” Lena exclaims.

 

“Oh, my love, are you okay? Stef asks, concerned.

 

“Some people need to learn to drive…” Lena seethes.  “That’s all I’m saying…”

 

Mariana’s hand is still on Francesca’s chest.  She can feel her sister’s heart beating hard and fast.  It had been instinct, to thrust her arm out. To try and shield Fran from whatever came next.

 

Fran’s eyes are wide.  “I’m okay,” she reassures Mariana softly.

 

“Okay,” Mariana nods, but she’s tense, and watchful the whole rest of the way to the restaurant.

 

\--

 

It’s packed.  Just the way it always is, especially on a weekend. 

 

Mariana’s not sure how much of this she can take.  The sounds are overwhelming. People talking, laughing, distant sounds from the kitchen.  Strong smells of greasy pizza, and harsh lighting. Not to mention the fact that she feels Stef’s eyes on her.

 

When Stef nudges Fran, and she jumps, Mariana offers a hand, though her balance is not the best anymore either.

 

Stef drops her voice, but not low enough: “So, how’d she do?”

 

Fran bites her lip.  “Fine.”

 

“Fine.  You’re sure?” Stef presses.

 

“Nothing happened.  We just hung out,” Fran insists, shifting her weight.

 

“Good to hear,” Stef inclines her head to speak into Mariana’s ear:  “See? You can control it when you want to.”

 

“Mama, can me and Mari please go wait outside where there’s benches?” Fran asks.

 

“Here,” an unfamiliar woman says, getting up with her husband and two boys.  “Please, sit. We can stand.”

 

“Thank you so much,” Lena says, nodding at Mari and Fran.

 

“Thank you,” they echo, sitting down.

 

“I wanted to tell you that I just think you two are doing a wonderful job,” the lady says to Lena.  “With everything you’ve had to deal with? Well, I can’t even imagine. I can barely manage with the two I’ve got, and they’re fine!” she laughs.

 

“Well, we appreciate the support,” Lena says.

 

“Mariana looks good,” the woman compliments, continuing to speak to Lena, even though Mariana is literally right there.  

 

Mari can’t stop the scowl that crosses her face.  She knows exactly how she looks.

 

“How’s the recovery going?” the woman asks, as if it’s Lena’s recovery they’re discussing.

 

“Uh, we’re taking it a day at a time,” Lena manages.  “I think she’s--”

 

“Mama, I’m hungry,” Fran speaks up.

 

Mariana could hug her.  Knows Fran hates it when strangers, especially, ask personal questions about their medical info.  Since telling them off won’t work in front of Moms, she’s trying to distract them from the point.

 

“Frankie, don’t interrupt,” Stef reprimands, frustrated by the wait.

 

“Well, it’s like the doctor said...two steps forward, one step back, and four to the side…” Lena jokes.

 

“Well, you’d never know it.  She doesn’t look handicapped at all,” the woman says, like she’s impressed.

 

Mariana’s face burns.  She doesn’t hear what Lena says back, because the husband has just knelt down in front of Fran.  Mariana scoots closer to Francesca, putting an arm around her, protectively. She stares down the man, even though just the thought of it makes her heart race.

 

“Boy, you sure are lucky...having parents like you do who love you and take care of you…” he says.

 

Mariana rolls her eyes.

 

Fran is equally unimpressed and levels a gaze at him.  “I’m a girl,” she says bluntly, gesturing to her  _ Black Girl Magic _ shirt, and magenta leggings, in case it isn’t clear how she identifies.  “You said ‘ _ Boy, are you lucky _ …’  I’m not a boy, I’m a girl.”

 

“I’m so sorry,” Stef apologizes.  “I don’t know what’s gotten into her.  Frankie, what do you say?” she prompts.

 

“Thank you,” Francesca moans like this is torture.  (Which, it is.)

 

\--

 

Finally, they get a booth.  Hard for both Mari and Fran to manage, because it’s a tight space, and not firm enough seating to be supportive.  Fran looks tinier than usual at the this table the right height for adults. Not small eleven-year-olds. 

 

Mariana scoots in next to Fran, but Moms make them spread out.  One “child” and one adult on each side. Mariana braces herself and slides in next to Stef, before she can decide to sit by Francesca.

 

Hot, now that she’s going to be wedged in here, with all the body heat and pizza, Mariana shrugs out of her sweater.

 

“Miss Thang.  Hey. Did you forget you had another arm?” Stef ribs.

 

“Honey, just because you can’t feel it doesn’t mean it’s not there.  You need to pay attention. What if we weren’t here? Would you just walk around like that? With your sweater just hanging off one arm?” Lena asks. 

 

Mariana jerks the sweater off her left shoulder, where it somehow remained, half-on.  She balls it in her lap. Fran busies herself looking at the menu.

 

Once Stef orders, she and Lena get down to business.  “Now, we want to have a nice meal out. That means none of this eye-rolling,” she pins Mariana with a look, “or rude comments,” (Fran, this time.)

 

The pizza arrives and Francesca picks.  Mariana also barely eats. She can see Stef’s phone - that it’s already 6:15.  Her heart breaks a little. Another chance to see the Avoiders missed.

 

She sits and eats silently, keeping the time to herself, so that Fran can keep it together.

 

Moms talk to each other, and Mari just sits.  Francesca is doing her best to pick every single mushroom, and fried onion off the pizza.  She’s not a fan of goat cheese either, so soon, Fran just has a piece of crust she’s scraped clean with her fork.

 

“You’re gonna be hungry later,” Lena warns them both.  “And this is dinner. We’re not short order cooks.”

 

Mariana doesn’t add that they didn’t make  _ this _ dinner.  And she shakes her head slightly at Fran (even though it makes her headache worse) to stop her from saying anything and getting in trouble.

 

“You know, part of having a nice dinner is talking to your family,” Lena points out.  Her voice is light, but there’s an undercurrent of tension. “So, talk to us,” she urges, and waits.

 

“So I decided what I wanna be for Halloween…” Francesca offers.  

 

“Halloween’s over a month away,” Lena points out smiling.  

 

“I know.  But I already know what I wanna be,” Fran says, chewing her crust for a long time.

 

“Which is?” Stef asks, impatient.

 

“A sloth!” Fran announces happily.

 

“Of course, a  _ sloth _ …” Stef remarks an edge of mocking to her voice, taking a long drink of her wine.  “You know, I think you’re getting too old to Trick-or-Treat, honestly.”

 

“What?” Fran glances up from her pizza, alarmed.

 

“Honey, you’re eleven now.  All Mom is saying is that it’s a good idea to start thinking about celebrating a different way.  Like handing out candy,” Lena adds gentler than Stef. It doesn’t take the sting out of the words.

 

“Great, I get to hand out candy to all the kids who get to Trick or Treat like  _ I don’t _ …” Fran pouts, burying her face in her arms.

 

Mariana Trick or Treated until she was eighteen, dressing up with Fran when she was little and taking her around the neighborhood.  She wonders if that’s not really the issue. That there’s no one to take her this year. They got a taste of taking her last year, after Jude moved out and probably are over it this year.

 

But Fran is still a child.  She should still get to Trick or Treat if she wants to.  But of course, Mari can’t tell Moms this. First because aphasia, and second because she needs her phone back.  And her laptop. And her pillow. So she can’t afford to risk pissing them off again.

 

“What about you, Miss Thang.  You’re awfully quiet?” Stef nudges her.

 

Mariana shrugs, not knowing what to say.

 

“This is a good time to practice being social,” Lena says.

 

“No offense, but she already knows how to do that,” Fran points out from her position with her head down.  Her voice is flat. Bored. Covering for the heartbreak Mari knows she feels.

 

“Both of you,” Lena encourages.  “Sit up, please, and stop pouting, Frankie.”

 

Grudgingly, Francesca sits up.  She takes a piece of bread and starts poking out all the olives.

 

“How’s rehab?” Stef asks.

 

Mariana shrugs.  (Can she honestly not think of another question to ask right now?)

 

“That’s not an answer,” Lena points out.  “Talk to us. Use your words.”

 

Mariana strangles the sweater in her lap, in an attempt to keep control.  “I don’t know…”

 

“Well, you’re there every day, aren’t you?” Stef insists.

 

“Yes.”

 

“You’re not skipping?” she presses.

 

“No.”

 

“So, how is it?” Lena persists.

 

The stress of this conversation, not to mention all of the other overwhelming sensory stuff going on is making talking nearly impossible.  “I don’t know,” she says again, because those words  _ are _ there.

 

“Well, as scintillating as this conversation is,” Stef interjects sarcastically.  “I want to get the bill and head home.” She signals the waiter.

 

Mariana feels relief collide with her total humiliation.  Stef seems unable to hold herself back from insulting Mariana.

 

She puts her sweater back on, double-checking that there’s nothing Moms could notice and critique.

 

\--

 

When they get to the car, Francesca sees the time...and she loses it.

 

“No…” she whines.  She breaks into tears.  Losing Avoider time on top of losing Trick or Treating is too much for her.  Mariana offers a hug, but Fran retreats hard against the back passenger door.

 

“What happened?  Are you hurt?” Lena asks, turning from putting the key in the ignition.  She kills the radio, so she can hear.

 

“It’s 7:45…” Fran sobs.

 

“So?  Honey, it’s the weekend.  What’s the problem?” Lena asks, clueless.

 

“We usually talk to our friends.  On Saturdays…” Mariana fills in, studiously avoiding the word  _ Avoider _ for Stef, who seems to especially despise it.

 

“Well, I’m sorry, Frankie, but this was family time.  You can talk to your friends anytime. It’s family first.”

 

“No, I can’t…” Fran sobs.  “I only can for one hour on weekends!  And now I can’t see them for a whole week…”

 

“Calm down, please.  You’re giving me a headache…” Stef moans.

 

Mariana watches as Francesca swallows a sob and pinches her arm.  She’s got too much going on right now. Between Timothy and everything else?  It’s no wonder she’s breaking down now. She reaches for Fran’s hand and Francesca pulls away.

 

“Hold my hand,” Mariana whispers, knowing how Fran looks when her coping runs out.  She looks like this.

 

Fran keeps pinching. Lena turns the radio back up, her eyes on the road.  Stef’s checking her phone.

 

“Safety,” Mariana says and reaches out, capturing Fran’s left hand in both of hers.  She holds on tight. She knows they don’t touch each other without consent, but she can’t just keep watching Fran self-destruct, and she doesn’t have her own phone to text her, or anything else to distract her.

 

She’d normally text fireworks right now, but she doesn’t have a phone, and Moms are right there, if she asks to use Fran’s.  She’ll get caught, and lose hers for even longer.

 

Fran slams her head back against the seat, but stays silent.  Shutting down.

 

“We can still talk to them, okay?” Mariana says softly.  But she can’t tell if Fran is even listening.

 

Her face is totally blank.


	41. Ants Marching / Ode to Joy

It’s Sunday, and for the first time in a while, Levi does not have to work.  Pearl is committed to enjoying the day. That means no cleaning (which can put stress on Levi, especially if Pearl’s particularly outspoken about a mess.)  So, this morning she sets out for a relaxing day. She writes in the journal from Dominique and swings for a while, after taking Cleo out.

 

Pearl can hardly believe that in just under three weeks, her baby brother will have been living with her for an entire year.  Pearl, who had lived a completely solitary life for thirteen years previously, had somehow, defied expectation, and let someone in.

 

Not only into her life, but into her heart.  She genuinely loves Levi, when she had thought - not so long ago - that it might be impossible for her to love anyone.

 

She curls up on the couch under their Dad-blanket and sends Mariana a Polo, just between the two of them.  It’s just after 5 AM, which means it’s basically a middle-of-the-night message for Mariana. If she has her phone back, she might receive it.

 

“ _ Good morning.  I know it’s early but I wanted to tell you we missed you and Fran last night.  How was dinner? Hope everything is okay. Let me know when you can, if you want to _ .   _ I’ll message this to you, too, and you can respond either place.  Love you. _ ”

 

Mariana responds immediately via Messenger.

 

_ 5:12 AM _

 

_ Mariana:  Are you and Levi busy tonight?  Can we reschedule Avoider-time? Fran’s having a really hard time with missing it.  I am, too…  _

 

_ Pearl: Of course we can reschedule.  You think the same time? _

 

_ Mariana: If we can...I haven’t checked with Jesus or Dominique yet… _

 

_ Pearl: I take it dinner wasn’t good? _

 

_ Mariana: On so many levels....  (The pizza had goat cheese on it…  Poor goats [sad emoji] Plus...gross...like...other stuff? _

 

_ Pearl: Oh, no, not the goats. [sad emoji]  _

 

_ Pearl:  What did the other stuff relate to? _

 

_ Mariana:  People. Moms.  Strangers. _

 

_ Pearl:  Moms AND strangers… [afraid emoji] _

 

_ Mariana: Yes.  Lena almost ran into someone.  In the car. On the way. So Fran and I were both...pretty shot.  Like, our nerves… _

 

_ Pearl: I can imagine… _

 

_ Mariana: Then, it was so busy when we got there.  Like...tons of people. We had to stand, and Fran asked if we could go outside and sit.  And these people...a whole family...stood and offered us the seats inside to wait. But… _

 

_ Pearl: Uh-oh… _

 

_ Mariana: The woman knew of us.  Talked to Lena about how amazing Moms are [awkward emoji] _

 

_ Mariana: Then she started to comment on me. _

 

_ Pearl: What do you mean? _

 

_ Mariana: Like, how I don’t look disabled?  When I am. When I’m trying. So hard. All the time.   _

 

_ Pearl: Right. [sad emoji] _

 

_ Mariana: She asked how my recovery was going.  The strange woman. And Lena was like 1 step forward, 2 steps back, 4 to the side… [angry emoji] _

 

_ Pearl:  No. Way.  Oh, God… That’s so rude. _

 

_ Mariana:  Then, we got to the table.  Moms made fun of me. And then were pissed I was too quiet… _

 

_ Pearl: Gee, I wonder why… _

 

_ Mariana: So, Lena asked about rehab. _

 

_ Pearl: Because that’s obviously what you’d want to discuss having dinner… [angry emoji] _

 

_ Mariana: She told me to “Use my words” and I wanted to punch her.   _

 

_ Mariana: (It was loud.  I had shrugged. Like, sorry not sorry I was too overwhelmed to share the details of one humiliating experience with people who do it even more…) _

 

_ Pearl: You don’t owe me an explanation, Mariana.  (I’d want to punch her, too…) _

 

_ Mariana: Anyway, I got my phone back, obviously, but Fran is really… _

 

_ Mariana: Sorry, feelings.  Can’t see the screen. [sad emoji] _

 

_ Pearl: I wish I was there.  To help. Is there anything I can do?  Does Fran still have her phone? _

 

_ Mariana: Yes. _

 

_ Pearl: Okay.  I’ll make sure to touch base with her, too.  Let her know she can talk to at least Levi and I tonight on video. _

 

_ Mariana: Thank you. _

 

_ Pearl: Are you gonna be able to sleep? _

 

_ Mariana: I mean, hopefully?  Thanks for this. For following through. _

 

_ Pearl: Of course.  Love you guys. SoCal Candle is still sitting on our table.  Smells so good and we always think of you when we smell it. _

 

_ Mariana: Oh, yay.  Night. Or, morning, I guess.  Love you too. _

 

_ \-- _

 

Panther doesn’t care about Levi’s work schedule.  She’s used to eating her breakfast at 7:30 AM and if she can’t?  Then she makes sure Levi knows she will probably starve in the next five minutes.

 

She’s whining at the door of Levi’s room, because she insists on sleeping with Levi (in his bed) and Levi prefers the door closed.

 

“Oh, my God, you big baby…” Levi moans.  He drags himself out of bed and pulls on jeans and a clean shirt.  Then he opens the bedroom door and lets the dog thump her way upstairs.  Levi follows at a slower pace. Finds Panther with her face being cradled between Pearl’s hands.

 

“How’s my big girl?  How are you, huh? Did you sleep well?  Did you?” Pearl croons.

 

“Okay, two seconds ago she was acting like she was about to die if she didn’t get fed…” Levi points out, unamused.

 

“Are you hungry?  Let’s get you girls some breakfast,” Pearl says, springing up from the couch with way too much energy.  She’s probably been up for a while by now, even though, to Levi, it still feels like the middle of the night.  She walks by him to the kitchen and hands off the Dad blanket as she goes.

 

Levi puts it around his shoulders.  Sits in her empty place on the couch.  They made it a promise between them that they’d share the blanket equally, paying special mind to times when one or the other of them seemed extra stressed, and maybe needed some Dad energy to calm down.

 

First thing in the morning is not Levi’s best time.  After almost a year living here, Pearl’s picked up on that.  Makes sure he has the blanket as needed just after he wakes up.

 

“So. what do you want for breakfast?” Pearl asks, sticking her head around, into the living room.  “Hot chocolate and what else?”

 

Levi fingers one of the shirts he best remembers Dad wearing. With the blanket close around him like this, Levi feels like he can ask a question that’s been on his mind lately:

 

“Are you gonna make me leave?”

 

“What?” she asks, stunned and sad - as if he said he was  _ going to _ leave.  “Hold on.  I’m bringing these out and I’m gonna come and talk to you.”

 

Levi just waits.  He’s not feeling ready for kitchen-energy just yet.

 

Eventually, Pearl, Cleo and Panther all return.  Pearl’s carrying twin mugs shaped like little marshmallows, shown with chocolate dripping down their marshmallow faces.  She brings out toast, too. Peanut butter and banana.

 

“Thank you,” he takes some.  Tries to eat over the saucer so he doesn’t spill crumbs, even though Panther and Cleo are more than happy to eat them.

 

They eat in silence for a minute until Pearl asks, from beside him:

 

“Have I done something that’s making you think I want you to leave?” in a small voice.

 

“No...it’s just...it’s been a long time.  Almost a year. Most people don’t expect a houseguest to stay for a year…”

 

“Levi?” Pearl asks.

 

He glances up.

 

“You are not a guest.  This is your home, just as much as it is mine.  I am not kicking you out. I promise. I hope you stay as many more years as you want to.”

 

Levi draws a deep breath.  Takes a sip of hot chocolate for courage.  Then speaks. “But I thought...you know...I know you’ve been waiting for me to quit work.  We’ve talked about how big a stress it is on me to keep working there. I keep not doing what you say…”

 

“Okay...is this a trauma thing?” she asks, and Levi is so relieved she does not say ‘my mom’ or ‘Carla’.

 

“Maybe…” he allows.  “Like...I know you wouldn’t do _ that _ .  What she did.  What happened to me.  But...maybe you’d get impatient and make me leave?”

 

“I’m not impatient.  I understand that quitting is difficult,” Pearl admits.

 

“Can I ask?  Like, a trauma-related thing?  To you?” Levi wonders.

 

“Sure,” Pearl allows, petting Cleo.

 

Levi takes his time, finishing his toast and petting Panther.  Then drinking more hot chocolate before he speaks again.

 

“So...did you...” he ventures.

 

“Did I?” she echoes.

 

“Did you?  Like after?” Levi presses.

 

“You wanna take a deep breath?” Pearl asks.

 

They do, even though it still feels embarrassing.  

 

“You can ask me, Levi.  It’s okay. Whatever it is.” Pearl insists gently.

 

“Yeah, but what if it’s rude?” he asks, a little panicked.

 

“Well, I reserve the right not to answer if it turns out I don’t feel comfortable answering.  But that’s all that would happen. Either I’ll answer your question, or I’ll let you know I don’t feel comfortable.”

 

“Oh,” Levi breathes.  “So...did you…”

 

“I can ask questions,” she offers.  “If that would help?”

 

He nods.

 

“I hear you asking, did I?  Did I, what?” Pearl prompts, curious.

 

“Quit.  There. After.  You know, the thing?” Levi wonders, not looking at Pearl.

 

“Did I quit, too, after what happened to me?” Pearl asks back.

 

Levi nods.

 

“I did.” Pearl confirms, soft.

 

“How?” Levi asks, his voice heavy.  

 

“How did I quit?” Pearl questions.  At his nod, she continues. “Well, honestly?  I just never went back. I spent like a week at home in bed.  So technically I ended up getting fired. Because I had three no-call, no-shows in a row…  I don’t recommend doing that, by the way. As it makes getting hired again more difficult.”

 

“Because...I can’t?  I can’t...walk in there and say I’m quitting.  What if they ask me why?” Levi worries.

 

“Honestly, you’ll probably have to think about that when you go for your next interview, but I doubt they’ll ask you when you put in your two weeks…”

 

“But what do I say?  I’ll look like some high school kid who just quits when he doesn’t like something or gets bored…  No one will hire me…”

 

“Levi.  It is okay.  I promise I will help you figure out what to say before you go in.  Okay? Will that help?” Pearl asks.

 

“Yeah,” he admits.  “I just...Dad would know what to do, you know?”

 

“Yeah, I bet he would,” Pearl smiles.  “Hey, you know that Mariana and Francesca want Avoiders Friend Time: Sunday Edition?”

 

“No way.  Really?” Levi asks, perking up.

 

“They do.  Maybe check in with them if you can.  Things aren’t getting any easier for them, unfortunately.”

 

“I hate that…” Levi manages.  “How they’re treated. It’s like, how hard is it to be respectful?  How hard is it to just be kind and give someone the benefit of the doubt, or a hand, or whatever?”

 

“Right,” Pearl nods.  “I’m proud that you’re the kind of person who does extend respect and kindness to people.  Who gives people the benefit of the doubt.”

 

“Hmm…” Levi contemplates, petting Panther.  “I always thought it was kinda weak? Or like...naive?”

 

“Well, you’re not indiscriminate.  If someone warrants caution, you recognize that.  So I wouldn’t say you’re naive. And kindness isn’t weakness.”

 

“Okay…” Levi nods.  “So...I don’t have to leave?”

 

“Oh, please don’t,” Pearl smiles sadly.  “I love having you here.”

 

“Well, I love being here, so…” he shrugs.  “Hey, I’m gonna take Panther outside. Will you come?  Take a Polo of me to show Mari and Fran all the things she can do?”

 

“Sure,” Pearl nods, setting their mugs in the sink and putting her hoodie on.

 

Levi grabs a sweatshirt from the front closet and goes out into the yard.  He lets Pearl know when he’s ready and she nods when she’s started recording.  Levi cues Panther through sit, stay, come, and fetch. Then, it’s time for both of their favorite.  The last command Dad taught Panther.

 

Levi sits in a chair and says, “Panther!  Hug?”

 

He puts his hands out and her big front paws find them.  Then his shoulders. Her bony legs dig in, as Panther moves in to get a good grip, nuzzling Levi’s head and licking his face.

 

“We’re sending you love, Fran and Mari, okay?  Panther and I love you guys.”

 

Levi watches as Pearl flips the camera so it faces her and Cleo.  She cuddles the pug who licks her face. “And Cleo and I love you both, too.  We’ll see you later today.”

 

By now, Levi’s gotten Panther down.  The dog is overjoyed to have gotten her morning hug and bounds along beside Levi into frame beside Pearl.

 

“Bye…” Levi waves at the camera.

 

Then he hits the STOP button and hopes that what they’re sending helps.  Even just a little.


	42. I'm Just A Kid

When they get home from pizza, Moms are acting like everything is fine.  It’s the thing Fran hates the very most. At least when all her feelings are buried, it helps her to not feel them.  She’s decided the blanket the feelings are under is actually like the magic carpet from  _ Aladdin _ .  It can go anywhere she needs it to.

 

Right now, Francesca needs it to cover up all her stupid baby weak crying.  It won’t help. It’s so far too late.

 

Mariana’s being annoying, holding her hand and walking with her upstairs.  Doesn’t she get that Fran doesn’t need anybody? That she can do this fine by herself?  People acting like her feelings are a big deal just makes her have them even more, and then Fran gets in trouble.

 

Mom unlocks Mari’s pillow, phone and laptop from their room and puts them in their room.

 

Mariana locks the door once Mom is  far enough away not to hear her do it.  She gets Fran’s lotion down. Mama used to remember to do it every day, but she hasn’t for a while.  For sure not since she started sixth grade. Fran’s skin is not as nice as the other girls in class: Kimani, Imani, Beyonce...all of them have nice skin.

 

“Can I do this for you?” Mariana asks.

 

Fran shrugs.  “I don’t care,” she answers flatly.  And she really doesn’t. What’s lotion going to help?  She missed seeing Jesus. Dominique. Levi and Pearl.

 

Lotion won’t help.

 

Fran’s phone pings.  She glances at it. A text from Mari.

 

_ Mari: _

_ Trying to take care of you.  Give you good sensory stuff to focus on.  Is that okay? _

 

_ Fran: _

_ I don’t need good sensory stuff.  I need bad sensory stuff. _

 

_ Mari: _

_ Why? _

 

_ Fran: _

_ To stay mad.  To stay not caring.  If you’re nice, I might cry… _

 

_ Mari: _

_ Moms aren’t here right now.  Door is locked. Ours + bathroom.  I can turn shower, sink, fan on, so they won’t hear… _

 

_ Fran: _

_ I don’t want anything nice. _

 

_ Mari: _

_ But I’m your big sister.  It’s my job to take care of you.  And as an Avoider, it’s my job to protect you.  From mean ppl.  _

 

_ Fran: _

_ I don’t want you to. _

 

_ Mari: _

_ Keeping the feelings in is dangerous.  What Moms asked you to do is dangerous.   _

 

_ Fran: _

_ So what.  I am used to it. _

 

_ Mari: _

_ What can I do?  What would help? _

 

_ Fran:  _

_ Nothing. _

 

_ Mari: _

_ Other Avoiders?  Jesus? Dominique? _

 

Francesca glances up.  “They wouldn’t come. Besides, Moms would ask what they’re even doing here…”

 

“They’d come,” Mariana nods.  “And Jesus and Dom can tell them whatever.  You wanna text the fireworks? To whoever you want?”

 

Fran bites her lip.  Nods. 

 

_ Fran: _

_ [fireworks emoji] _

 

\--

 

Fran stays sitting on the closed toilet while they wait.  Mariana stays with her, finding her stuffed Slothy and giving it to Fran to hold.  Francesca crunches it in her hand, hard. It helps some.

 

The minutes feel long and draggy.  But finally there is a knock, like  _ one-two-three, one-two _ .

 

Mariana takes her hand, even though Fran just wants to keep sitting here and holding onto herself.  

 

“Not leaving you alone,” Mari insists.  “Come with me.”

 

Fran sighs and they go to the bedroom door to unlock it.

 

Dominique’s on the other side, looking concerned.  Fran doesn’t look at her, but listens as she takes the key from Mari and relocks the door.  Then puts their desk chair, propped on its back legs, under the handle for a good measure.

 

Fran walks to the closet, taking Mariana with her, because Mari won’t let go of her.  Dominique comes, too. And all three of them go there and sit.

 

Dominique doesn’t even say anything.  Fran’s covering up the little red mark on her arm with her other hand.  Dominique will probably be disappointed.

 

Mariana takes her hand back.  So Fran tucks her other arm behind her back.

 

They’re totally quiet for millions of seconds.

 

Finally, Fran whispers.  “I missed Avoider Time…”

 

Dominique offers an arm, and Fran snuggles against her side, even while Mariana still holds her hand.

 

“And they won’t let me be a sloth…” Fran admits brokenly.  “It’s not fair. Literally everybody in my class is going Trick or Treating, but Moms said I have to stay home and hand out candy…”

 

“What happened to your arm, babe?  Can I see?” Dominique asks.

 

“You’ll hate me…” Fran warns.

 

“No way.  I could never hate you.” Dominique reassures.  “I’m just worried about you. Fireworks are no joke.”

 

“I pinched right there,” Fran admits, finally showing Dominique the spot with marks on her arm.  “I was crying in the car because of missing Avoider Time and Moms made me stop… I had to do it to stop crying.  Otherwise I would’ve been in bigger trouble…”

 

“I see.  I’m not disappointed.  I understand.” Dominique reassures.  “Proud of you for reaching out. Will you let me fix this for you?”

 

“Mariana helped me text you…” Fran admits, glancing at her sister.  “I think I need to do Feelings Time. Can we?”

 

“Sure,” Dominique nods.  “That sounds like very smart coping.  But can I fix your arm?” 

 

“It doesn’t need it,” Fran reassures.  She’s been hurt way worse than this. She had surgery where her leg was cut open before.

 

“Francesca?  Listen to me,” Dominique says seriously.  “You’re feeling some trauma right now. And Mariana and I are here to help you.  Will you let us help you fix your arm?”

 

“No,” Fran says, like that’s it.

 

“You need to talk about your feelings first?” Mariana asks.

 

Fran shrugs. 

 

“Okay.  We can do that.  What’s one thing you’re feeling?”

 

“Well, it’s kinda hiding…” Fran admits, smiling, even though she’s not one bit happy.  “All of them are kind of hiding.”

 

“Where?” Mari asks.

 

“You know the magic carpet from  _ Aladdin _ ?  It’s like they’re underneath that?  And that always looks fine. It can never be hurt, because, you know, it’s magic…”

 

“Well, it’s safe now, if one of the feelings wants to come out.” Dominique encourages.

 

“I don’t know…” Fran hedges.  “Like, what anything is called…  Hey, how did you get in the house?”

 

“The door was open,” Dominique shrugs.  “You know, we have time for you to figure out how you feel.”

 

“I don’t wanna say.  Mari, you can. I mean... _ if _ you can...not like in a pressurey way.”

 

“Maybe sad?” Mariana volunteers.  “You said earlier...you didn’t want anything nice. Because you might cry.”  

 

“Mad…” Francesca decides.

 

“Yeah?  Who are you mad at?” Dominique asks.

 

“Me.  For being a stupid weak baby…” Fran mutters.  She reaches for her arm again, but Mari still has her hand.  Now, Dominique even is holding her other one.

 

“Wanna know who I’m mad at?” Mari whispers, like it’s the biggest secret.  “Moms. They cry. Yell. But we can’t?”

 

Francesca blinks as hot tears come in her eyes.  She doesn’t want them here. Why can’t they get the message?  She can feel everything building up inside her. Her nose burns.  Her throat. She tries to pull away from Mari but she’s got Fran’s left hand in both of hers.

 

“Squeeze my hand, Francesca,” Dominique encourages.  

 

Fran gives it one little squeeze.

 

“Hard.  Can you squeeze harder than that?” Dominique asks.

 

And Fran can, she just is choosing not to.

 

“Just let go of me!” Fran exclaims, jerking away hard.  Arching her back.

 

“Are you safe?” Dominique asks, gentle.

 

“No, but who cares!” Fran explodes.  “It doesn’t matter!”

 

“Why doesn’t it matter?” Dominique asks.

 

There’s a giant lump in Fran’s throat, making her voice tremble weirdly.  “Because  _ I don’t matter!” _

 

And that’s it.  She’s crying again and all her feelings are spilling out all over the place, and it’s gross.  It feels like she wants to burst out of her own skin. To be free and just leave. Just leave and run and run and run and run forever.  Never stopping. Never slowing down. Never going back.

 

Her tears are everywhere.  Her nose is running. It really is the grossest thing.

 

But Mari and Dom don’t act like it is.  They hug her and hold her. They touch her hair softly.  Mari just keeps saying, “I know. I know. I know,” and it sounds like she’s crying, too.

 

Just her saying that is making Fran cry even more.  Because Mari really does know. She had to miss out on Avoider time, too.  And Moms were mean to her, just like they were to Fran, both tonight and last night, too.  And every night, basically.

 

“I know that feeling really well,” Dominique says, her voice shaky.  “And I hate that feeling. And I hate that you’re feeling it right now.”

 

“I just wanna go…” Fran sobs.

 

“Where, babe?” Dominique asks, smoothing her hair back.

 

“I don’t know…” Francesca admits.  “I just don’t wanna be here. I wanna be away.  I wanna go to Minnesota…” she decides.

 

“That would be nice, huh?” Dominique asks.  “We could hang out with Pearl and Levi...and the dogs…  We could sit on the dock together. Go shopping. Smell some bread…  Color… Bake brownies…”

 

“Hot chocolate…” Fran adds, tearful.

 

“Definitely, you could help Pearl make hot chocolate again.  You were so good at that…”

 

“I wanna go back…” Fran sniffs.  “I miss being there. I miss being able to be me…”

 

“I hear you…” Dominique says, sympathetic, stroking her hair. “I hear you miss being there and being yourself.  That makes a lot of sense.”

 

By now, Francesca’s lying down with her head in Dominique’s lap.  Mariana’s moved so she’s in front of Francesca, holding both her hands, still.  But her touch feels softer. 

 

It takes a long time for Francesca to calm down all the way, but Dominique waits anyway.  Moms never come to check on them at all. And Fran is glad.

 

Eventually, Fran does feel calm enough to come out of the closet.  To let Dominique fix her arm, even though Fran still doesn’t think it’s a big deal.  After, she gives Dominique a hug.

 

“Thank you for coming…” Francesca manages.

 

Dominique squats so that they can look at each other straight on.  “I’ll always come, babe. I promise you,” Dominique says, hugging her again.

 

Then, she hugs Mariana, too.  She asks again if Fran is sure she feels safe.

 

“I just feel sad now.  Not like mad at myself…” she admits.  “I’ll be okay. Thanks for helping me, you know, keeping me safe from doing bad coping…”

 

“Remember what Jesus said about the baby sloth,” Dominique tells Fran seriously.  “Slothcesca needs love right now. And kindness. And gentleness. Anything that’s like that.  If you can’t do those things for Slothcesca, Mariana’s here to help, too. Remember that. She’s on your side and she wants Slothcesca to feel as safe and loved as she can feel…”

 

“Okay,” Francesca manages.

 

Dominique turns to wave again, before moving the chair from in front of the door, and unlocking it.  Mari’s there, locking it again behind her. She even puts the chair back how Dominique had it.

 

Then she walks back in the bathroom, and Fran follows.

 

Mariana picks up the lotion again.  Raises her eyebrows.

 

Francesca thinks about what Dominique just said.  About how to let people help Slothcesca feel her ideal safety and loved level.  It’s why Fran swallows, and nods, looking away.

 

Mariana takes the slippery, silky lotion and smoothes it across Righty first.  The arm she pinched. Even though, Mari’s careful of the bandaid, Righty tenses up feeling the contact.  It’s not trauma, it’s CP. But right now it might kind of feel like both. Mariana takes her time and gives Fran lots of breaks to let Righty relax in between.  Tears still run down Fran’s face, feeling Mari’s kindness. Her breath keeps catching. She keeps sniffing. But Mariana doesn’t tell her to stop. Then she does Fran’s left arm and hand.  She takes her time, paying attention to every finger and part of her hand especially.

 

It makes Francesca want to pull away, but she keeps thinking about her inner baby sloth.  She wouldn’t pull it away from getting love and safety. Still, she finds herself whispering “stop”.

 

And Mariana stops.  She doesn’t start again until Fran says “go.”  It helps to have the love spread out a little bit.  To not deal with it all at once.

 

Fran does her body herself, but she lets Mariana do her legs and feet.  She does Righty first, giving Fran lots of breaks, especially when Mari gets to that knee with the scar, and that foot.  The bottom of it feels extra sensitive. Sometimes it helps when Mariana just holds her hands still on Fran’s foot for a long time.  It calms it down or something.

 

Finally Fran’s left leg and foot.  And that does feel pretty good. After, before she brushes her teeth, Fran takes a long time touching her skin.  It feels super smooth and silky.

 

She goes back to the closet to find pajamas.

 

“Sleeves,” Mariana says.

 

“Huh?” Fran asks.

 

“Maybe get some with sleeves…” she suggests.  “Extra protection.”

 

Francesca finally settles on a light nightgown with teddy bears on it.  “Can I still sleep with you?” she asks.

 

Mariana moves over and holds the covers back and Fran climbs in.  With the chair still in front of the door, and the handle locked, Fran falls asleep right away.

 

\--

 

The next day, Fran sleeps late.  That’s okay because it’s Sunday. And when she and Mariana go to the kitchen, they find Jesus and Dudley waiting to go to the apartments and hang out.

 

It helps when Francesca barely has to see Moms at all.

 

She spends her time in the car watching the Polos that Pearl and Levi sent of Levi hugging Panther, and Fran decides she might be an okay dog after all.

 

It’s the biggest surprise, when at 11 AM - when she, Mari, Jesus and Dom are at Avoidance - Pearl and Levi call too.

 

“Hey!”  Pearl says.  “I talked to Mariana early this morning and she said you guys could both use some Avoider time this week.  So here we are,” she says, smiling.

 

“I saw your Polo. Panther really likes hugging, huh?” Francesca asks Levi.  She still feels weird. Like the air is too much for her skin. Like she’s supposed to have a bunch of extra layers but doesn’t.  It’s not like she’s cold. More like she might start crying any minute, for no reason.

 

“She does,” Levi nods.  “She’s a good girl. How are you guys?  We missed you last night…”

 

Francesca sniffs.  Just like that, the tears are back.  She wipes her eyes.

 

“Oh no…  I didn’t mean…  Fran, are you okay?” Levi asks.

 

She glances at Mariana, who nods.  “Not really…” she admits.

 

“We’re here,” Pearl offers.  “Whatever you need.”

 

“Moms took us out to eat…” Fran shares, drawing a shaky breath.  “And...the pizza had gross mushrooms and onions on it. Sorry, Jesus…”

 

“It’s okay, buddy.  You can talk about it,” he encourages, petting Dudley.

 

“I tried one bite and they felt so gross in my mouth that I started gagging…  Even the cheese tasted bad. So I just had crust. And some bread with gross olives in it.  I picked out the olives...”

 

“That’s not much food,” Jesus comments.

 

“Well, Moms said they aren’t short order cooks, whatever that means.  Pretty much probably that they weren’t gonna make me anything else. They think I’m just being picky...but it really makes me feel like throwing up.  Like the way some food feels in my mouth.”

 

“I get that,” Levi nods.

 

“Yeah, me too,” Jesus adds.  “They should’ve let you get other food.”

 

“Like non-pizza,” Francesca insists.  Finally feeling her tears stop.

 

“And the guy…” Mariana reminded.

 

“Oh, yeah, and there was a guy...and he was like...saying how I’m lucky Moms love me and take care of me…”  She swipes at her eyes with a napkin. Just thinking about what he said makes all Fran’s tears come back.

 

“Rude…  What the heck?” Levi asks.

 

“But Moms thought  _ I _ was being rude, and Mari, even though the guy’s wife was being rude about her…”

 

They talk for hours and hours.  Pearl and Levi keep calling back whenever their video fails.  And it feels like thank goodness.

 

Mariana and Dominique don’t tell Jesus, Levi or Pearl about last night.  They respect her privacy, and Fran’s time with The Avoiders feels like it is slowly filling her up again.

 

With love and safety.

 

She glances up at the soft  _ tap-tap-tapping _ on the sidewalk near them.

 

The boy is back.  With the green crutches.  

 

“Hi.”  He says, out of breath.

 

“Hi,” Fran says back.  “I like your crutches.”

 

“Yeah,” he grins.  “Green is my favorite color.”

 

His dad whispers something to him.

 

“I’m Nico.  Nice to meet you,” he says.

 

“I’m Francesca,” she’s about to say it’s nice to meet him too when totally different words blurt out of her mouth as he’s about to walk away.  “I have CP!” 

 

“Really?” Nico asks.  “Me, too.”

 

Francesca turns and gapes at Mariana, feeling like she might burst.  She just barely keeps a smile in check.

 

Mariana smiles, too.  She can feel Dominique’s hand on her back.

 

Nico looks like he’s getting tired.  He keeps shifting his weight, like Fran does when she is tired.  She scoots over. “Wanna sit with us?” she invites, checking with all The Avoiders.

 

They nod their heads.

 

Nico scoots in on the edge of the picnic table bench, putting his crutches down.

 

“Ooh, cookies,” he says, noticing the leftovers.

 

“Here, you can have it if you want.  I’m Jesus,” Jesus introduces.

 

“Thanks,” Nico says, taking a big bite.

 

Fran can see Nico’s dad close by, but not too close.

 

“So, what are you guys doing?” he asks.  

 

“Just talking,” Fran tells him.  “These are all my friends. Well, my family really.”

 

“Cool,” Nico says.  He smiles. It’s kind of the same way she smiles.

 

And it’s the best thing, seeing that.  Because it means she’s not weird. 

 

She’s actually really normal.


	43. Belong

Francesca can’t believe it.  It’s just like Dominique said all those months ago.  There are kids in the world like her. Nico is like her!  Jesus has scooted over for Nico’s dad to join, too. (Francesca kind of forgot about him.)  He shakes hands with Jesus, and waves to everybody else, even Pearl and Levi.

 

“I’m Daniel.  Nice to meet you,” he says.

 

“I saw you here another day,” Francesca tells Nico.

 

He’s still busy eating the cookie.  

 

“But I got scared and hid under the table,” she confides.

 

“Ooh, a dog,” Nico says, looking underneath and seeing Dudley.

 

“Yeah…  That’s my brother’s dog, Dudley.  He’s a service dog.”

 

Nico giggles, uncomfortable.

 

“That just means you can’t pet him without asking first,” Fran explains.

 

“Oh,” Nico looks at Jesus right then.  “Can I pet your dog?”

 

“Not right now, buddy.  But I’ll let you know when you can.  Thanks for asking.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Nico says, like it’s no big deal he doesn’t get to pet Dudley.  He turns to Fran. “How come you went under the table?”

 

“I thought you might make fun of me.  Of how I walk. Like kids at my school.”

 

“Kids do it to me, too…” Nico confides.  “It hurts my feelings.”

 

“Yeah, it really does.  How old are you?” Fran wonders.

 

“Eleven…” he says.  He seems way younger.  Because of his smallness and some things about how he talks.  Like he can’t make all his sounds exactly.

 

“I am, too.” Fran says.

 

Nico takes a long drink from a water bottle his dad gives him.  Fran sees a scar on the front of his neck. She doesn’t ask about it because she won’t die from being curious.

 

She just sits by Nico while Daniel talks to the rest of the grown up Avoiders.  Pearl is mostly talking to him. Because they both seem like parents. Like the same age, practically.  Nico’s dad has a ponytail. And a moustache. And a beard. His hair is all brown. Different from Nico’s.

 

“Francesca’s been waiting to meet a friend like Nico for a while, I think, right?” Pearl asks.

 

“I have,” Fran confides to Nico.

 

“Oh,” he smiles.

 

“Do you know any other kids like us?  With CP?” Fran asks.

 

“Nope,” Nico says.  He’s still eating the cookie.  Just like her, Nico eats sloth-speed.

 

“No, Nico hasn’t gotten to meet any other kids with CP yet, so this is a big day for him, too,” Daniel adds.

 

“Have you lived here long?” Jesus asks.  Probably because if they had, Fran’s sure she would have seen Nico and his dad already.

 

“We just moved to the area a few months ago.” Daniel confides.  “I’m lucky that I work from home so I can be around for Nico. And of course, his mom is, too.”

 

“What do you do?” Pearl asks, curious.

 

“I work for NAU.  Technically NAUWU, but that’s a mouthful,” Daniel smiles at Nick.

 

“What’s that?” Mariana wonders.

 

“Nothing About Us Without Us?  It’s a disability news and information site run by people with disabilities.  They have a parenting section and I write for that. Report on some of the news.  My boss has CP, which Nico thinks is pretty awesome. So do I.”

 

“That’s so cool,” Francesca breathes.  “Do you think I can work there when I grow up?” Fran asks.

 

“We have some young writers and contributers, for sure,” Daniel shares.  “There’s a sibling section, and one of Nico’s older brothers wrote for it.  He’s 13.”

 

Fran’s eyes widen.  “So, maybe I can when I’m a teenager?  Hey, oh my gosh, Dominique?” she asks. “Was that the site that you found the article about CP and startling and fire alarms?”

 

“I think so…” Dominique shares.

 

“We saw an article from there!” Fran exclaims.  “About a person with CP who jumped at loud noises like fire alarms and stuff!”

 

“I hate fire alarms…” Nico remarks.

 

“Me, too,” Francesca agrees.

 

“Well, Nico, we should probably get going.  But it was great to meet you guys,” Daniel says.

 

“No…” Nico complains.  “Dad, can’t Francesca come over and play?”

 

“Maybe another day,” Daniel says, like he’s sad about it, too.

 

“Can I give Nico my phone number?” Fran whispers to Jesus.

 

“Sure, buddy.”

 

“Do you have a cell phone?” Francesca asks and he nods.  Daniel takes it out of his own pocket, because Nico doesn’t have a way to carry his own.  “Is it okay if I put my number in?”

 

Nico nods again.

 

Then she gives her phone to Nico, who hands it to his dad.  Daniel puts in Nico’s number and gives Fran her phone back.

 

“Thanks,” she says.

 

“Now we can still talk,” Nico says.  “Bye.”

 

“Bye, Nico.” Fran waves.

 

Then, Nico does something so cool.  He balances with one crutch and waves with the other one.

 

\--

 

“Guys,  I did it!  Finally!” Francesca cheers.

 

“What?” Levi asks, confused.

 

“I made a friend like me!” Fran exclaims.

 

“We’re so glad,” Dominique nods.  She looks a little bit stiff. Like, ever since Nico’s dad sat down with them at the table.  Sometimes trauma means girls only want to be with girls or boys with boys. Or just people they know and trust.  Daniel is a brand new person and a man, besides.

 

“Are you okay?” Fran asks.

 

“Yeah…” Dominique breathes.  “Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m okay.”

 

But she’s kind of shaking.  So Fran waits. 

 

“Sorry I made them come over…” Francesca apologizes.

 

“Don’t.  Don’t apologize.  It’s okay. I’ll calm down.  And I’m happy for you.” Dominique reassures.

 

Fran looks at Mariana.  “Do you think Moms will let me go play at Nico’s sometime?”

 

“I don’t know…” she admits.

 

Fran is already thinking about that.  Will she have to leave out Nico’s CP? Would Moms like her playing with another kid with a disability?  Would they let her play with him at all? It’s super confusing because Nico’s nice, and he’s like her and that should mean it’s a good thing.  That they could play together.

 

But Fran’s getting a feeling inside like it might not be.  She’ll have to talk to him more. She didn’t even ask what school he goes to, and Moms always ask that.  Fran knows he for sure doesn’t go to Anchor Beach.

 

Fran and The Avoiders have the longest talk ever.  It lasts from 4:00 to 7:00 PM because Levi and Pearl called early.

 

She’s feeling almost like she can face going home.

 

It’s a better feeling than she’s had in a while.

 

\--

 

On Thursday, Levi’s on Lane 4.  Over the last few days, Pearl was serious about helping him come up with what to say and how to approach quitting.  She advised telling his boss first, and Levi’s just sat down this morning with him. Said everything like he practiced it with Pearl.

 

“I’ve really enjoyed working here but another job opportunity has come up that’s a better fit for my family.”  Pearl has said he doesn’t owe anymore of an explanation than that. He’s not particularly close to any of the cashiers.  But he’s glad he’s got the ball rolling. He’s even talked to HR. He’s going to pick up an exit form on the way out today just to be thorough.  

 

But it feels good to know there’s an end in sight.

 

His skin prickles.  Levi glances up and toward Gladys, working Lane 2, as usual.  At the familiar blonde, who looks more harried than the last time he saw her back in April.  She looks older. Puffier. Like she’s aged twenty years or something in the last five months.

 

Carla.  It’s Pearl’s mom.

 

Ever since Jesus told her off, she’s been keeping her distance.  Not coming through his lane. Not interacting with him at all. But she’s got on those blue jeans.  Those high heeled platform shoes. The navy windbreaker. It’s so different than the pink he always imagines her in, because of his first real memory of her.  Because of how she was dressed the day she destroyed him.

 

She’s kept her distance but she’s been in twice a week, starting in May.  Levi’s usually not this close to Gladys. Usually, he just sees Carla from a distance.  It’s enough to make his heart race. To take him a while to calm down again. But he’s been able to handle it. All 30-something times she’s been in since telling his friends what happened years ago.

 

Her voice carries over.  Light. Carefree. “ _ Yeah, I wanted to wear my bathing suit today, since it was so nice and hot out _ …”

 

Gladys throws her head back and laughs, loud.  

 

It is hot.  A weird-hot 87 degrees halfway through September.  It’s not typical for Minnesota, Pearl’s assured him.

 

From two aisles away, Carla locks eyes with Levi.  

 

He feels hot.  Then icy cold. The 36th time seeing this woman is apparently his limit.  He flips his lane light off, and lurches away from his register. Rushing by the office to make sure his boss knows he has to leave.  That he’s sick. The exit forms are right there and he grabs for one in a hurry.

 

Two more weeks.

 

(Four more times…)

 

Levi pulls out of the parking lot and prays he can make it home.

 

\--

 

Pearl’s just finishing up packing a box with a dog sweaters when there’s rapid knocking at the cabin door.  Her heart speeds up in her chest. There is only one person Pearl knows in her life who knocks like this. And she has been exiled from coming near them ever again.  Only her mother knocks like this.

 

Impatient.  Incessant.

 

She checks out the window and is beyond surprised, pulling the door open to see Levi on the step, looking absolutely gray.

 

“Here.  Come in,” Pearl insists quietly, locking the door behind him.  

 

He’s shaking.  Drops an exit form on the coffee table.

 

Panther lumbers over and licks Levi’s face.  Pearl backs off and lets them have this moment.  Figuring that Panther might be easier to trust right now.

 

Pearl has only seen him like this one previous time.  Back when The Avoiders were visiting in April and her mother had stopped by the cabin unannounced, looking for Pearl.  It’s for that reason that Pearl keeps her distance, knowing that the very last thing she wants to do is trigger Levi with some word that they say alike - some unintentional mannerism.

 

“I put in my two weeks…” he manages flatly.  Softly. He sounds breathless. “Only four more times…”

 

“Only what?  What to you mean?” Pearl asks, quiet.  

 

She offers him the Dad-blanket and he pushes it away.  Focuses on petting Panther. Looking at Panther.

 

“She’s been in.  Twice a week, like usual.  Ever since May…” Levi admits.  “I’m sorry…”

 

“No, Levi, God.  No… This is not your fault.   _ I’m _ sorry,” Pearl apologizes.

 

“She usually just…  Like, I mean… I mean… I usually…” he stutters.

 

“You’re trying to tell me what usually happens?” Pearl asks, reaching deep within her for a calm she doesn’t feel.  She knows she can’t afford to show her anger right now or Levi will misread its direction. He’ll feel it. But he won’t necessarily get the nuance that Pearl is pissed at her mother, right now.  Not at him.

 

Levi nods.  Panther, who is supposedly not a service dog, whines at Levi’s distress.  Gives him more kisses. “She usually just comes in? And I see her? Just from a distance?  She doesn’t come over or go through my lane.”

 

“Okay, I’m glad she hasn’t done that,” Pearl breathes.  “But something different happened today…didn’t it?”

 

“She was talking to Gladys...about the weather...making her laugh.  And then she...Carla...she...looked at me. It was like a long, cold look.  And I had to go. ‘Cause I felt like I was about to pass out..” Levi confides, still shaking.  Quiet. Haunted. “Sorry I didn’t tell you. Sorry I didn’t...do this sooner…”

 

“It’s okay.  What do you need right now?” Pearl asks.

 

Levi considers, and finally picks up their Dad-blanket from the couch and drapes it around himself.  “I need...to talk to Mariana, I think? But I don’t want Jesus to do anything if he hears… You know like he said he would?’

 

“Mariana respects your privacy,” Pearl reminds gently.  “So, you call her. If you want you can use the swing,” she offers.  “I can put on headphones and just...hang around...if you’d rather I don’t listen in.  Or I can take Cleo out.”

 

“No.  Stay.” Levi says.  He’s not quite ready for the swing, but he takes the Dad-blanket downstairs to his room.  Remembering Pearl’s remarks over the last few days about how messaging is a more comfortable way for Mariana to communicate, he sends her one:

 

**Levi, Mariana:**

 

3:07 PM

 

_ Levi:  Hey. Around? _

 

_ Mariana: Yes.  What’s up? _

 

_ Levi: Saw Peanut Butter Cookie… _

 

_ Mariana: OMG are you okay? _

 

_ Levi: IDK.  Like...anxiety attack or something?  It’s stupid. All she did was look at me.  She wasn’t even in my lane… _

 

_ Mariana:  What did you tell me the other day?  Something about that you don’t need to invalidate what you went through.   _

 

_ Mariana: If all she did was look at you, you wouldn’t be reacting like this.  It’s because she hurt you. _

 

_ Levi: I miss you guys. _

 

_ Mariana: We miss you. _

 

_ Levi: Can you not tell Jesus about this?  I don’t want him doing a print interview about how awful he knows she is.. _

 

_ Mariana:  I won’t tell.  But are you gonna be okay?  Like, she’s still coming in. _

 

_ Levi: Put in my two weeks today, so hopefully I should be able to manage. _

 

_ Mariana: Do a lot of self care today. _

 

_ Levi: I will.  Panther is with me.  She can tell something’s up. _

 

_ Mariana: That’s good.  And Pearl? _

 

_ Levi: Yeah, I told her… _

 

_ Mariana: How was that?   _

 

_ Levi:  Okay. She’s there for me.  I still feel bad though ‘cause it’s her mom. _

 

_ Mariana: If she didn’t do bad things to you, you’d have nothing to tell Pearl about her mom.  She did the things, Levi. It’s her shame to carry. _

 

_ Levi: Yeah, but why does it feel like I’m walking around with it?   _

 

_ Mariana: Because trauma sucks. _

 

_ Levi: Ah.  Well that clears it up.  How are you and Fran doing?  Has she gotten to hang w/ Nico at all? _

 

_ Mariana: Not yet.  Still too nervous to ask Moms. _

 

_ Levi: How are you? _

 

_ Mariana:  Making it.  You know, because I have to. _

 

_ Levi:  Right. How are the, you know, memories? _

 

_ Mariana: Annoying.  Helps to hear you share about yours, though. _

 

_ Levi: Does it?  Because I don’t want to be over here triggering you. _

 

_ Mariana: You’re not. _

 

_ Levi:  She was talking about the weather.  How it’s like 87 here and how she’d like to have worn her swimsuit out to the store… _

 

_ Mariana: Disgusting.  Everyone is glad she didn’t, I’m sure. _

 

_ Levi:  And it was after that she looked at me.  All harsh. Judging. Hating. _

 

_ Mariana: So, the usual. _

 

_ Levi: Yeah, basically.  After she was talking about coming around here all indecent.  So, that was awesome. ← sarcasm. _

 

_ Mariana: Yeah, I noticed that particular timing she had.  When is your last day? _

 

_ Levi: The 30th.  In October, I’m free. I can start at County Market.  You know, assuming they hire me. _

 

_ Mariana: Thank God.  Did you think of maybe taking some extra time?  Telling the new store you can’t start for a bit? _

 

_ Levi:  I can do that? _

 

_ Mariana: Sure.  They don’t know if you legitimately have loose ends to tie up or if you’re taking mental health days or whatever.  Why not make sure you’re taking care of yourself before you start somewhere new? _

 

_ Levi: That’s good advice, thanks. _

 

_ Mariana: Rehab calls.  Gotta go. But let me know if you need me again.  And I’ll check in. Take care. _

 

_ Levi:  Thanks, Mari.  Means a lot to have you here for me. _

 

_ Mariana: Always here for you. _


	44. Part of Your World

Francesca loves October - at least she used to.  Because of Halloween, getting candy, getting to dress up and all of that.  This year, it is less fun, but there are still good things about it.

 

Number one:  Dominique’s birthday is on October 3rd and this year she invited Fran, Mari and Jesus (if he wants) to Michael and Jaimie’s for a birthday sleepover.  She called it a Sister Sleepover, but that doesn’t feel right if Jesus decides to come, too.

 

Number two: Even though she still sees Timothy in the hall sometimes, and he still doesn’t notice her?  Francesca’s getting great at writing her real actual name on her school papers. (She always erases  _ Hasani _ and writes  _ Adams Foster  _ before she hands them in.)  It’s just a private thing she does.  Just for her. Because she at least knows what her real last name is.  Who her bio dad is. Even if Timothy never ever wanted to even talk to her?  Francesca still knows more stuff now about who she is than she did before. And she gets to actually see Timothy most days.

 

Number three:  Levi sent a Polo to the Avoiders last Thursday saying it was his last day working at SuperOne ever.  That means no more Peanut Butter Cookie! Hooray! Francesca really wanted to be there when he and Pearl joked about destroying his name tag, but Levi sent another Polo of him smashing it with a hammer outside on their driveway.

 

Number four:  Nico. They are not boyfriend / girlfriend, just friends.  Francesca got to see him and his dad one more time at Avoidance.  That time, she and Nico went off by themselves and just talked. Nico likes TV and Netflixing and movies and video games just like her.  But they also can talk about serious stuff. Like the time on the Avoidance bench? He asked her, “Do you ever feel like everybody else in the world knows how to do stuff and you don’t?”  Fran had agreed. Nico shared that he just learned how to tie his shoes last year. Fran shared it had taken her until second grade. Laces were tricky. It’s been helping, to have Nico as her friend.

 

The Sister Sleepover (plus Jesus, maybe) is going to happen Saturday to Sunday.  So that means Francesca has to get all her homework done Friday night to Saturday morning.  It’s hard to concentrate with Moms fighting about something, but she goes into the closet with her headphones and does her homework there.

 

She writes about some boring stuff in her Language journal.  The school day, her homework. She knows to never write any real stuff in there.  Or she would get into real trouble.

 

Fran only has some math to finish on Sunday morning.  She really hopes she can figure it out and be able to go to Dominique’s.  She tries to focus on it while eating toast but crumbs keep falling on it.

 

Finally, Fran sends a Polo to The Avoiders.  She takes a picture of her math problems she has to do and tells them:  “ _ Hey, Pearl or Levi or Dominique or anybody good at math, can you help me?  I’m doing subtraction and it’s hard. And I have to be done by 4:30 because I have a thing _ .”

 

“ _ Pearl or Levi or Dominique.  Ouch _ ,” Jesus laughs in his Polo back.  “ _ No, it’s cool, buddy.  We know I’m not the best at math, right _ ?”

 

Luckily, Pearl gets back to her and they work together on every problem until they’re done  _ and  _ they’re right.  It takes a long time for Pearl to do the problems and then talk Fran through them.  It takes the longest time for Fran to understand.

 

She finally finishes and goes to find Mariana, who’s cleaning up, to be sure they’ll be allowed to go.

 

“Pearl helped me with my math,” Fran passes along.  

 

“Good.  So, it’s all done?” Mariana asks.

 

“Yeah, all my homework is done now.  Should I pack for Dominique’s sleepover yet?”

 

“Help me with some of this first,” Mariana gestures to the mess in their room.  “Then we can pack.”

 

\--

 

There is one scary moment when Mama jokes about not remembering Dominique’s party tonight. Fran holds her breath.  Tries to stay calm because that’s better for Moms.

 

“Oh, Frankie, I’m kidding.  I remember. Spaghetti and meatballs - Saturday night.  It’s all over the calendar.”

 

“So, we can still go?” Fran double checks.

 

“Homework done?” Mama asks.

 

“All of it,” Fran nods, proud.

 

“Really?  Let’s see.”  Mama checks through Fran’s bag.  “I think you forgot this…” she says, taking out Fran’s assignment notebook.

 

“Oh yeah, can you sign it?” Francesca asks.

 

After commenting about how messy Fran’s writing is and that she really needs to work on filling everything in, Mama does sign it.

 

“Rehab done?” Mama asks, listing all the things Mariana has to do for a day in rehab, even if she’s at home.

 

“It’s Saturday,” Mariana points out.  

 

“Right,” Mama says and she sounds a little disappointed that Mariana doesn’t have to do rehab on the weekends.  “Okay. I suppose you can go. But I expect you both asleep by a reasonable time. Frankie, if you get home and are crabby, I’m going to rethink letting you go next year.”

 

“I’ll go to bed.  I promise. By 9:00.”

 

“8:30,” Mama counters.

 

“That was my fifth grade weekend bedtime, doesn’t my sixth grade one get to be later?”

 

“We’ll try it,” Mama gives in.

 

Francesca breathes out a ton of air.  “Thank you.”

 

\--

 

At Jaimie and Michael’s house, it always feels like home.  Every time Fran and Mari go there? Michael helps them up the front steps and he doesn’t even act like it’s a big deal.

 

Jesus decides he wants to come, too.  (Francesca is pretty sure it’s because Dominique has said she doesn’t want any presents and she just wants to get to spend time with them and eat with them and talk and stuff.)  Presents still make Jesus feel nervous. Fran doesn’t know why. It probably has to do with the bad guy, though, so she knows not to ask.

 

On her 12th birthday, Francesca is still going to want presents, though.

 

“Dad’s spaghetti and meatballs, coming right up!” Michael says, as he sets the sauce with meatballs on the table and Jaimie follows with the noodles.  And the Parmesan cheese, Fran’s favorite.

 

They all sit down at the table and by now, Fran knows that the Williamses pray.  She holds hands with Jesus and Dominique and bows her head, even though she isn’t really praying.  (It’s a respect thing, like, instead of just eating your food while everybody else prays. That would be rude.)

 

After they get done with that, Francesca loads her plate with lots of noodles, less sauce (but a couple meatballs) and a lot of cheese.

 

“This is reminding me of the last birthday I had friends over for…” Dominique muses.  “That year…”

 

“You mean, last year?” Fran asks helpfully.  “Because we came then.”

 

“I mean, before that.  When I was eleven. Between then and last year, I didn’t really have friend-birthdays.”

 

Francesca stabs a meatball.  “How come?”

 

“Because then my trauma happened.  And after that, I was in the hospital.  It was a long time before I felt safe enough to have friends at my house again.” Dominique shares.

 

“I’m glad you invited us to your birthday,” Francesca says.  “I love your birthday. How everything’s the same.”

 

“Yeah, like...you know what to expect…” Mariana ventures.

 

“That is comforting, right?” Jaimie asks.

 

“We all kinda like knowing what’s coming,” Jesus adds.

 

“When I was eleven...that was the first time we really changed things up.  Dad found that zombie room thing,” Dominique is somehow smiling, even though zombies are creepy.

 

“You have a  _ zombie room _ ?” Francesca asks, her eyes wide.  She didn’t think she believed in zombies, but hearing Dominique talk about them like they’re real is giving Fran second thoughts.

 

Dominique bursts out laughing.  So do Jaimie and Michael. Jesus and Mariana are smiling, but not laughing all the way.  Unlike at home, Francesca knows it’s not because she said something dumb. It’s because she said something funny.  But she’s still confused. Didn’t Dominique just say they had a zombie room?

 

“Oh, my God, Fran…” Dominique gasps.  “You are too much. Okay.” She tries to stop laughing, saying, “Okay, okay, okay,” a bunch, but then she looks at Michael and cracks up again.

 

Jaimie finally extends a hand to Francesca.  “It’s one of those escape rooms. You go somewhere, where people have made up all these clues.  They have themes, and this one was something about zombies. It’s not in a house. It’s somewhere you go, if you want to do something as a group.”

 

“So...no zombie room…  Like, in this house…” Francesca checks.

 

“No.  No zombie room in this house, babe.  You’re safe,” Jaimie reassures.

 

“You go there, you solve all the clues, you get out of the room and away from the zombie,” Dominique reviews.  “Dad and I solved it in record time.”

 

“The  _ fake _ zombie…” Francesca repeats.

 

“Yes, Francesca, I promise you.  It was a fake zombie. I’m sorry for scaring you.  I should’ve been more clear.” Dominique apologizes.

 

“It’s okay.  I’m just glad you don’t have a zombie room here.” Francesca reassures.

 

They eat lemon cake, and it’s still pretty good.  Even though Fran prefers vanilla cake and vanilla frosting.  Lemon cake, no frosting is okay once a year. When they all finish eating, they just stay at the table.  Jaimie makes some coffee, which makes Mariana really happy because she loves coffee.

 

Fran loves this part because they all just sit around the table and talk.  It reminds her of Feelings Time back at the cabin. But she’s not sure if it’s safe to have it here or not.  Like, maybe she’d get too used to having her feelings and they’d leak out when they weren’t supposed to.

 

She’s kinda blanking out while Jesus shares about October being hard for him too, since it’s the month he got away from the bad guy.  When Fran blinks again, Mariana’s talking about how hard it is at home with Moms. Dominique even shares about how hard her own birthday usually is.  Jaimie and Michael agree.

 

“What about you, Fran?”  Michael asks. “Anything new in the saga of Timothy?”

 

“What?” Francesca asks, confused.

 

“Find anything else new out about bio-dad?” Michael checks.

 

“Oh.  No. It’s okay, though.”

 

“How’s home for you?” Jaimie checks.  

 

Francesca glances down at the spot on her arm where she used to see the pinch mark.  Back last month when Moms made them go out to eat pizza, took away Halloween and Avoider Time.  Plus, May before that, with Mom threatening Fran with going to jail.

 

“Normal, I guess?” she asks.

 

“What’s normal?” Jaimie wonders.

 

“Like, nothing too different from the usual stuff,” Fran tells them.  (Even what Mariana told them was different than how they talk about it at home.  She uses softer words and stuff. Like, she just says she wishes Moms would understand her, not that last week, Mom called Mari the R-word.)

 

They know better than to say much real stuff that happens.  Moms make sure they know. They always remind them, like, the next day, for sure.  They say it’s family stuff. It’s private.

 

But that kinda reminds Francesca of the body safety stuff that she knows from Jesus and Mariana.  How adults might make kids keep hard secrets so they can keep hurting them. Fran knows it’s mostly about private areas on your body but it’s also not safe to keep being yelled at.  Being expected to do things you can’t. Being called names. Not being allowed to call your friends if you need them, because you can’t trust your family.

 

“What’s private again?” she asks, hesitating.

 

“What do you mean?” Dominique wonders.

 

“I mean, like, if it was a vocab word.  What would the definition be?” Fran looks at Jesus.

 

“It means your personal info, medical info, your thoughts, whatever.  Those are yours to share or not. But you shouldn’t share any of those things about anyone else without asking first.”

 

Fran is still really confused.  She wants to ask if the people doing the hurting can claim privacy over what they do to another person.  But she thinks that might be getting too real.

 

\--

 

The clock edges toward 9:00, and Jaimie tucks Francesca into Dominique’s bed.  She wishes everybody was going to bed at the same time. But at least Dominique and Mari are going to sleep in here, in Dominique’s ginormous bed with Fran.  Jesus wants to sleep on the couch.

 

“You sure you’re okay?” Jaimie asks.  “You were quiet tonight.”

 

“I’m just thinking about stuff…” Francesca admits, not looking at Jaimie.  “Good night.”

 

“Good night, babe,” Jaimie kisses Francesca on the forehead. “The bathroom’s right across the hall.  We’ll leave the light on so you can find it.”

 

“Thanks,” Fran says.  She falls asleep to good sounds for once.  Of Dominique and Mariana and Jaimie laughing.  Of Michael and Jesus joking.

 

That night she dreams of zombies, and it’s scary.  She wakes up shaking and finds herself in a Sister Sandwich of Mariana and Dominique bread and Fran filling.  She snuggles closer to them.

 

“You okay?” Mariana checks.

 

“Zombies…” Fran whimpers.

 

“No zombies are here…” Dominique tells her tiredly, finding Fran’s hand in the dark.  “And besides, if they were? You have the best defense, right here.”

 

“You’ll make sure they don’t bite me?  Turn me into one of them?”

 

“You’ll never have to be one of them, babe.  We’ll always make sure that you stay one hundred percent human,” Dominique yawns.

 

Francesca scoots closer to Mariana and whispers: “No one can really fight zombies for real, right?  It’s just the way it is?”

 

“Zombies aren’t real.  That’s what’s real,” Mariana says emphatically.

 

Francesca sighs and rolls over.  “I guess it’s not the zombies that are scariest anyway…” She mumbles to herself.  “It’s the real, actual people.”

 

“Well, we’ll protect you from the real actual people, too.  Promise,” Mariana vows.

 

That makes Fran feel better, and she can finally drift off to sleep.


	45. Look After You

The week after Dominique’s birthday always feels off.  Because it’s obvious, you know, that once October 10th hits, it means her life changed.  But in her memory, it goes - birthday, abduction - with nothing in between. So, it feels like she’s living in some kind of other dimension, where time is stopped.

 

Because of that, she’s more than a little distant.  Dominique finds herself dressing more and more as Katniss (sans bows and arrows) and Kaz to go out in the world.  Something she has barely needed to do for six months.

 

Around the house - sometimes, to get herself out of bed - she dons her Sadness costume.  Never the Tiana dress, though. Because the dress feels too vulnerable, and it feels like something that is firmly in After.  (She’d only seen  _ The Princess and the Frog _ when she was recovering in the hospital.)  She doesn’t dress as Hermione either, because she’s another character Dom connects strongly to childhood.

 

On Sunday morning, at 7:30 AM, Francesca calls.  “Hey. Can I come over today?”

 

Dominique clears her throat.  “Babe, no, I’m sorry. It’s my traumaversary today.  So, I can’t. Mom and Dad’ll be pretty busy too. Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, I just don’t wanna spend a whole day here.  Didn’t you already have a traumaversary a couple months ago?” Fran checks.

 

“I did.  You know how Jesus has a couple?  And Pearl?”

 

“Yeah,” Fran answers.

 

“Well, it’s like that for me.  I have more than one,” Dominique shares, swallowing her dread.  “Do you think you and Mariana will be okay hanging out with Jesus today?”

 

“I guess, yeah.  I just miss you. I really liked our sleepover last weekend.  I wish we could do that again.”

 

“It was fun, right?” Dominique asks.  “Listen, I love you. But I need some space from people today, okay?”

 

“I know…” Fran sighs.  “We can see each other after today, though, right?”

 

“After today would be great.  Bye, Francesca.”

 

“Bye,” Fran answers, hanging up.

 

Francesca’s call actually motivates Dominique to get up and go to her costume room.  She’s in the midst of creating, which means it’s the one room Dominique asks Lena to leave as is, when she comes to help with house chores.

 

Dominique loses herself in her current project, Francesca’s recent call curbing Dominique’s usual spiral of blaming herself for being so stupid.  Over the years, Mom has been good at telling her every year that she wasn’t to blame. That the older girl who tricked Dominique into her car was.  Usually, it felt like such a Mom thing to say. So hard to believe that the blame would fall somewhere else. But Francesca’s eleven now. And Dominique knows for a fact that she would never blame Fran for being tricked.

 

Hadn’t Fran just been super easily convinced that there was suddenly a Zombie Room inside her parents’ house?  If that isn’t evidence of how gullible kids can be, Dominique doesn’t know what is. And Fran is smart. Grounded firmly in reality.  Both feet on the ground. Her believing in zombies for a hot second hadn’t been a comment on her character. It had been a comment on the reality that she trusted Dominique so fully.  So when Fran misunderstood Dominique’s zombie remark to mean that Mom and Dad had a secret room full of zombies in their house, it was realistic that Fran believed.

 

( _ It’s realistic that  _ you _ believed _ …) 

 

Dominique loses herself in her process of searching through fabric scraps.  Cutting. Gluing. She goes on missions that she prays people will cooperate with and not ask questions.

 

They do.

 

When she finally checks her phone, it’s close to 11:30.  She gulps, thinking about being dropped off at the local community center for cheer practice.  She hasn’t been back in twelve years. And something in her would like to. Just to see it. To check it out.  

 

But it doesn’t feel like an Avoider thing.  This feels like a Mom and Dad thing.

 

She’s got a missed call from Dad.  Texts from Mom. Polo from Dad. Everything is asking some version of the same thing:

 

_ “Are you okay?” _

 

(It reminds Dominique that losing her was a trauma for them, too.  She calls back right away, video chatting Mom and hoping Dad’s there to join in.)

 

Mom answers after half a ring, looking stressed.  Dad is, of course, right beside her.

 

“Hey.  Sorry. I was working.”  The word snags in her brain, like spikes have shot up out of nowhere and caught her spiderweb thoughts.  Stretching them, until she’s not sure what’s real anymore.

 

“Dominique?” Mom asks.  “Where’s Roberta at, Dom?”

 

Blinking, Dominique glances around, and sees the cat - fat, regal and perfect - lounging on scraps under the costume room table.  She blinks yellow eyes at Dom. She pats her lap and Roberta jumps up, purring.

 

“I was, um….” Dominique flips the camera to show the mess in the spare room.

 

“That costume looks incredible,” Mom praises.  “You need anything for it?”

 

“It’s not my best…” Dominique admits.  “I just...need to get it done, and it helps me take my mind off things.”

 

“You need anything not for the costume?” Dad asks, and Dominique’s brain almost snags again, but he sees her face and self-corrects.  “Emotionally?” He looks wrecked. She can see flour or something on his cheek and imagines he’s been cooking or baking to deal.

 

“Actually...would you mind coming somewhere with me?” Dominique asks, timid.

 

“Babe, you name it.” Mom says.  “We’ll go anywhere with you.”

 

\--

 

Dominique shows up in their driveway by noon.  She feels more comfortable driving today. It reminds Dominique a little of Pearl, actually.  She thinks, for the first time, about calling her. But decides against it.

 

Her family has always been good about keeping trauma stuff private.  They don’t post on social media. They don’t talk to people she doesn’t know about it, outside of a therapy setting.  It all helps.

 

Mom and Dad come out.  Mom gets in the passenger seat and Dad is in the back, sitting behind Mom.  (She loves that they remember every detail of what she needs. That they don’t comment on it.)

 

Dominique pulls into the parking lot of the community center and parks.

 

“It’s closed?” she blinks, surprised.

 

“Yeah.  A few years ago, I think.” Mom adds.

 

“I came back here about now to pick you up…” Dad shares.  “I waited in the car, until you were officially done, and then I went in.  Your friend, Jennah, asked about you…”

 

His voice is soft.  A little shaky.

 

“Sorry.  You know, that I wasn’t here…” Dominique apologizes.

 

“This was not your fault,” Dad tells her firmly, softly.  “You did nothing wrong.”

 

Dominique closes her eyes to hide the tears that have sprung up in them.  It’s relief, more than anything. That they still don’t blame her.

 

“You didn’t call fifteen times…” Dominique remarks gently, impressed at Dad’s restraint.

 

“Well, I had to hold him back…” Mom jokes, laughing a little though tears.

 

“Ah.  Thanks.”  She pauses, glancing down at herself.  “Are y’all embarrassed...to be seen with me...like this?” she asks.  She had not even dressed. Just left the house in sweats. No makeup. No wig.  All that took energy. Time. And she needed to be with her parents more than she needed to be presentable.

 

“No,” Mom says firmly.  “It’s your choice to get dressed or not, babe.  We know it’s a tough day.”

 

There’s silence and Dominique glances around the empty parking lot.  “Did… I mean, was it like you said?”

 

“Was what like I said?” Mom asks, confused.

 

“Did you like...go on Twitter like you said when we talked after Jesus went missing?”  Dominique knows the details, but she likes hearing them. Likes knowing that while she was being taken farther and farther away from her home and safety, her parents were trying to find her.

 

“I did,” Mom nods.  “And Dad made the posters and hung them up all over.  We talked to the police. We did everything there was to do, Dom.”  Mom chokes up. “We’re sorry it wasn’t enough.”

 

“Hey,” Dad speaks up from behind Mom.  “We’re okay. Dominique is here with us.  We’re together. Everybody’s safe.”

 

“It  _ was _ enough.  ‘Cause along with all of that?” Dominique sniffs, letting a couple of tears fall.  “You prepared me. It was because of that, that I knew what to do.”

 

“Sorry, Dominique, I know this is about you,” Mom apologizes.  “I’ll be fine in a minute.”

 

“Mom, nobody’s saying you have to be fine.  I’m not saying that. It’s hard for me, yeah.  But I respect that it’s hard for you and Dad, too.”

 

“That’s because you’re amazing…” Dad compliments.

 

Dominique ducks her head.

 

\--

 

Eventually, Dominique starts to feel like she’s approaching her limit on car-time, especially with Dad in back.  But she’s not quite ready to be alone. Neither are they.

 

“Can we please come in?” Mom all but begs.

 

At the same time, Dominique wonders, “Can you stay?”  

 

“We’d love to,” Dad says, breathing an audible sigh of relief.

 

They’re in the parking lot of Gateway.  She sees Fran walking with Jesus and Mariana.  Looks like they’re going to Avoidance. Mariana notices the car, taps Francesca, and points to Dominique.  All three turn and wave.

 

From the car, Dominique and her parents, wave back.

 

\--

 

They get comfortable on the couch together.  Dominique finally sighs. Then speaks. “There’s...kinda been some distance between Jesus and me lately…”

 

“Yeah?” Mom asks.

 

“Yeah.  We do things really different.  Like, coping-wise. I’m real private, like just with you,” she looks at both her parents.

 

“But he’s much more…  He  _ demonstrates _ his grief.  And that’s hard for me,” Dominique admits.  “Because I’ve never been able to do that…”

 

“That does sound hard,” Mom agrees.

 

“Plus, it’s like...I don’t know...everybody in our group...like all The Avoiders?  They know all his dates. Because they’re public knowledge. Like, trauma ones? I think they know all of each other’s, too.  But no one knows mine.”

 

“Why do you think that is?” Dad wonders, no judgement.  

 

“Maybe...because I’m not as explicit with it…  I don’t sit down with them and spell it out. I mention bits and pieces.  But I don’t tell the whole story.”

 

“And you don’t have to,” Mom reassures.

 

“I wish...they could...I don’t know.  I know they’re not mind-readers. But like...they come through for him.  They don’t doubt him.”

 

“Do you feel doubted?” Mom wonders, concerned.

 

“Yeah, kinda, if I have trauma feelings around his?  He takes it personally. He doesn’t take it like, ‘Hey, there’s your friend.  She’s struggling. Maybe check if she’s okay.’”

 

“ _ Are you _ ?” Dad asks softly, the world in his eyes.

 

“Am I what?” Dominique asks confused.

 

“Are you okay?” he manages, clearing his throat.  Blinking.

 

“I’m…” Dominique ventures, looking at Mom.  “I’m anxious as hell. I’m...confused. I’m hurt.  I’m pissed. I’m like…” she laughs, even though tears threaten.  “I’m everything… But I’m  _ here _ .  You know?  So, it’s like what right do I have to feel anything but grateful?”

 

“Every right,” Dad says, certain.

 

“I’m sorry?” Dominique asks, sure she’s heard him wrong.

 

“You have every right to feel anxious.  To feel confused. To feel pissed. To feel everything you feel.  You don’t ever have to claim a feeling that doesn’t feel one hundred percent authentic,” Dad insists, gentle.

 

A few tears fall.  Dominique buries her face in Mom’s sleeve.  

 

“It’s okay,” Mom reassures.  “It’s okay to need distance from Jesus.  It’s okay that you two grieve differently, and it’s okay that you resent his taking it personally.  We don’t often have the luxury of taking things personally, do we?”

 

Dominique shakes her head.

 

“And that hurts,” Mom continues.  “I want you...to embrace every feeling.  And to know you don’t owe me or Dad one damn thing.  Not even gratitude.”

 

“Wait, seriously?” Dominique asks, pulling back to look at Mom.

 

“We know you’re glad to be home.  But we also know it came at a great personal cost to you.  We know you have a lot to be angry about. Anxious, confused, hurt about.  All of it.” Mom explains. “To expect you to be grateful for our benefit would be selfish.  Dad and I have every single one of our feelings. You have the right to every single one of yours.”

 

“I hate that she tricked me…” Dominique admits, her voice low.  Anger seeping out. It’s the first time she’s admitted it out loud.

 

“I hate that she tricked you, too,” Mom agrees.

 

“Damn that Brittany…” Dad breathes.

 

And somehow, Dominique laughs, even as tears make their way down her cheeks.  Even as anger blooms inside her, at the woman who set everything in motion, with a simple lie.


	46. This Is Me

It’s one day after Dominique’s trauma.  So maybe Fran should have seen it coming, but she doesn’t.  Moms have been mostly normal for a whole month. Her guard is down.

 

It’s Indigenous Peoples’ Day, so Fran’s off school.  It’s been a boring day. Francesca’s up in her room, reading more Harry Potter when she hears it: Moms’ voices all strained:

 

“ _ What the hell is this, Lena? _ ” Mom asks.

 

“ _ Don’t look at me.  I had no idea she was doing that _ !” Mama says back.

 

Francesca creeps out the door to the top of the stairs in time to hear: “ _ Well, her paper says  _ Francesca Hasani _ , Lena.  She obviously knows something. _ ” Mom insists, sounding so mad.

 

Fran’s hand goes to her shirt pocket.  (Her white  _ Once Upon a Time  _ shirt with a willow tree and a book and some magic shooting out of it…)  She clicks the Avoiders Marco Polo and puts her phone back in her pocket, camera lens facing out, just in time.

 

“ _ Francesca _ ,” Mama calls.  “ _ Come down here please _ .”

 

This is the worst time to be in trouble.  Mariana’s at the gym doing therapy. Francesca’s all by herself.   But she remembers her mistake from last time. Not telling her friends.  Hopefully, this time, the other Avoiders will see and come and help her. (Hopefully Moms won’t catch on to what she’s doing…)

 

Her right leg and right arm get stiff.  It’s hard to grab the railing - even the one Jesus made for her for accommodations.  Fran goes down with two hands, finally making it to the bottom. Dinner’s on the table.  It’s tacos. Which Fran usually loves.

 

“What?” Francesca asks finally, swallowing.  She sits down at the table. Moms don’t talk to her until she’s done eating.  It’s the longest time of Francesca’s life.

 

Finally, Mama puts a paper down on the table by her.  “What’s this?”

 

Francesca glances at it.  Knows she’s in trouble. Big, huge trouble.  The worst ever. On her homework, due tomorrow, for Language with Liv, Fran had written her name like  _ Francesca Hasani _ .  She’d been thinking of Timothy, and it just came out of her head.  She forgot to erase it.

 

“Frankie, Mama asked you a question,” Mom snaps.

 

“...My paper…” Fran ventures finally.

 

“Don’t be cute,” Mama tells her, hands on her hips.  “Why did you write your name like this?”

 

“I don’t know…’cause it  _ is _ my name?” Francesca asks.  

 

Even though Mama thinks she’s trying to be cute, Fran really isn’t.  She’s just answering the question. It really is her name. Timothy’s last name is Hasani.  So her last name is really Hasani. Like Dominique and Pearl and all the Avoiders say: her history is nothing to be ashamed of.

 

Mama glances at Mom.  Then back at Francesca.  “Who told you?” Mama asks, crossing her arms.

 

Francesca bites her lip.  Mariana isn’t here right now, but Fran doesn’t want her to get in trouble and it’s totally obvious she will.  “...Nobody, I just found out…” Francesca answers, not looking at them. (She still is the worst liar.)

 

“Mariana…” Mom scoffs.

 

(If they knew the truth, why did they ask about it in the first place?  Francesca’s so confused right now.)

 

“Do you know how disrespectful this is?” Mama demands.  “For you to write your name like this?” 

 

Francesca can feel the tears building up inside.  They fall down her cheeks. She hates them. They’re only going to make all this even worse.

 

“Did you meet him?” Mama asks, sounding hurt.  “Look at me, Frankie. Did you meet him?”

 

Francesca can’t talk.  So she just nods. She knows if she doesn’t admit it, Mama will find out super easy, and she’ll be in even more trouble.

 

“When?!” Mama asks and Francesca jumps at the noise of her voice.

 

“Earlier,” Francesca cries.

 

“Earlier, _ when _ ?!” Mom yells.

 

“I don’t know!” Francesca sobs.  (She can’t tell them she met him a month ago.  That will be so much worse…) 

 

“What did you think you were doing?  Going behind our backs?” Mom insists.

 

“He didn’t look at me or talk to me  _ at all _ !  What’s the big deal???” Francesca screams, still crying.

 

“Well, he better not have!” Mama insists.

 

Francesca glances up, surprised.  Hurt. How did Moms know he was gonna do that?  “Why not?”

 

“He’s not allowed to, Frankie!  That’s why! You’re  _ our _ daughter!  Not his!” Mom’s voice is super loud.  It hurts her ears.

 

Mom’s making it sound like Francesca’s a thing.  Like they own her. Like she’s a toy that belongs to three kids, and two kids don’t want to share it.  So they just don’t. But Dominique’s voice is there in Fran’s mind. Saying she’s not a thing. Saying Fran’s a human.

 

It makes more words just escape out of Francesca’s mouth that she can’t keep inside:

 

They come out soft, but they come out, lost in her tears:  “I’m myself.”

 

Mama asks, “Excuse me?” like she’s so offended.

 

“Now is not the time for backtalk, young lady,” Mom warns.

 

“Francesca Adams Foster,” Mama says, strict.  She’s walking around the table to where Fran’s chair is.  “What was that?”

 

“I’m myself!” Francesca screams.  “Humans don’t have the right to control other humans!”

 

The slap is loud in Francesca’s ears.  It stings her face and jerks her head to one side.  She cries harder.

 

Mom’s in her face now, too.  “We are your parents, Frankie.  That gives us that right.”

 

“No, it doesn’t!” Francesca sobs.

 

\--

 

Pearl sits forward on the couch.  She’s been watching Fran’s Polo since it first came through.  At first, she hadn’t understood what was going on and assumed Fran hit the record button by accident, inadvertently documenting her being called down to dinner.  Them eating tacos and making small talk.

 

But Pearl glances sharply up at the screen when a paper gets slapped against wood.  When Lena asks Francesca: “What’s this?”

 

Dread unfolds itself inside Pearl, as she watches Francesca being read the riot act for daring to write down her bio dad’s last name, instead of her mothers’ on a school assignment.

 

Watching as Francesca starts crying, and everything just devolves from there.

 

Pearl calls out to Levi, knowing he just came back inside with Cleo and Panther.  “Levi, I need you to call Jesus right now, and tell him Francesca needs a pickup. And do not watch her Polo, please.  Their moms are awful,” Pearl warns. “I’ll keep an eye on her in the meantime.”

 

“Yeah.  Got it,” Levi agrees.  

 

Fran’s camera is angled so that Stef and Lena are headless for most of their interactions, and when they stand, Pearl sees mostly torsos.  But the slap. That surprises Pearl. The slap has Pearl exiting out of Marco Polo and calling Stef right then.

 

\--

 

Mom’s still yelling.  “You don’t get to scream at us!  You are the child! We are your moms!  End of story!”

 

Her phone buzzes and she picks it up, angry.  “Pearl, I can’t talk right now. Family stuff.”

 

Fran can hear Pearl’s voice through the phone, because Mom keeps her volume up loud.

 

“ _ Oh?  What’s going on _ ?” Pearl asks, like she really has no idea.

 

“Did you talk to Frankie about finding her biological father?  Ever since she went up to Dad’s cabin, she’s been talking about ‘ _ Pearl finding her dad too late,’ _ and all of this.”

 

“ _ Yes, we spoke about it.  My brother, who I’ve mentioned...he came to live with me.  We have the same father. It came up in conversation.” _

 

“You know, before she went up there, she was fine.  You put ideas in her head,” Mom insists. “Now she and her sister are sneaking around meeting him behind our backs!”

 

_ “Stef.  Those ideas were in her head long before me.  Honestly, what did you think would happen?” _ Pearl’s asking.

 

“Oh, I don’t know.  That our children would respect us? This is very hurtful.  Lena’s a wreck! Frankie, go to your room.”

 

Francesca stands up and walks out of the kitchen, swallowing her tears.  She hides around the corner, double checking Moms aren’t watching her, and then she opens the front door super soft, and slips out onto the porch.  Around the side of the house where Moms won’t see her if they check out the window.

 

She thinks about Dominique’s words from months ago.  Her or Jesus will be here in ten minutes at the most.  

 

Fran has never needed to actually do the plan before.  She hopes it works.

 

She sniffs.  Fran really needs Mariana, but she’s all the way at gym.  She probably can’t even check her Polos there so maybe she doesn’t even know what’s going on.

 

As a good measure, Francesca texts her fireworks.

 

\--

 

“Jesus.  You gotta go get Francesca right now.” Levi says.

 

“What do you mean?” he asks, getting up from the table in the lobby where he and Dominique are talking.

 

“Just get over to your Moms’ right now, and pick her up.  Pearl called them, so your Moms are distracted. I think it should be enough for Fran to get out and meet you.”

 

“What about Mari?” Jesus asks, already hurrying to his car.  Dominique’s on his heels, getting into her own.

 

“I think she’s at the gym?  Therapy stuff?” Levi asks.

 

“Okay.  We’ll get them.  Thank you guys,” Jesus says, hanging up.

 

He turns to Dominique: “I’ll pick up Francesca.  Can you go get Mariana?”

 

“Yeah.  Got it. Got her.  Meet at my parents’ house?”

 

“Sounds good.” Jesus nods.

 

\--

 

“Mom?  Hey,” Dominique says, her voice calm.  “Listen, we’ve got an Avoiders situation.  Jesus is picking up Fran right now, and I’m picking up Mari.  Is it okay if we all swing by?”

 

“Of course, yeah.  I’ll let Dad know,” Jaimie answers.

 

\--

 

Mariana can’t focus at all.  Not since that Polo came through.  She listened on a break, hearing clearly from the top of the stairs with Francesca that she was in trouble.  They found out how she’d been writing her name. They were pissed.

 

Fast-forwarding through dinner where Moms just seemed to be stalling about something and silent, Mariana finally picked up again where Lena put the paper down in front of Fran.  She’d watched horrified as Moms lost it with Fran. As she tried to leave Mariana out of it. As Fran screamed at them. As Lena slapped her.

 

“Mariana, come on, let’s get back at it,” Tomas urges.

 

A text comes through as Mariana struggles to concentrate on balancing, and reaching for the ball Tomas is holding.  Mariana glances at the screen.

 

Fireworks.  From Francesca.

 

“I really have to go.  My little sister, she’s--” Mariana begins.

 

“Your little sister’s fine.  Now focus on what we’re doing here.” Tomas says, like she’s an annoying child.

 

But it’s no use.  She finally stops reaching.  Sits on a raised mat behind her.  Has no idea what to text and she’s about to send a line of hearts when her phone is pulled from her hands.  Tomas puts it in his own pocket.

 

Mariana’s mouth drops open.  “What the hell?” she demands.

 

“You can have it back when we’re finished.” Tomas insists.

 

“She can have it back right damn now,” Dominique speaks up, and Mariana turns, relief flooding her, to see her best friend coming through the doors.  “Mariana, we gotta go. Emergency.”

 

Dominique eyes Tomas until he grudgingly reaches into his pocket and hands back Mariana’s phone.

 

\--

 

Francesca’s pinching herself, just to make sure this isn’t a dream, but really awful life, when headlights flash on the street.  Once. Then a window unrolls. Dudley sticks his head out.

 

(It’s a signal Fran and Jesus worked out, so that she never goes up to a car in the dark thinking it’s one she knows.  If a car pulls up in the dark while she’s waiting and doesn’t signal, just lurks creepily? Fran will know it’s a bad guy and not go to that car.  It’s why she stays out of sight while she’s waiting. So nobody kidnaps her.)

 

She rushes over and gets in.  Waiting outside in the dark felt like forever.  Francesca started to wonder if the Avoiders forgot all about her.  But no. Jesus is here. 

 

“Buddy.  Are you okay?” Jesus asks, sympathetic, when he gets a look at her face. 

 

Francesca doesn’t answer.  She just looks at her lap, feeling like Moms put a spell on her.  A petrification spell so all she can do is blink her eyes and breathe.

 

“I’m gonna call Moms and let them know we had ‘plans,’ okay?” Jesus offers when it’s clear Fran’s not going to answer.

 

When Jesus does sarcastic quotes around a word it usually makes Francesca laugh, but not tonight.  She doesn’t feel like talking. Like moving. Like anything. She doesn’t really listen when Jesus calls Mama.  Doesn’t really listen when he says they’re going somewhere.

 

Francesca doesn’t care where it is.

 

As long as it’s away from here.


	47. Zombie

Francesca still doesn’t talk.  She can’t, because it’s dangerous.  Because of back in May, when Mom threatened her with jail.  And because of now, when she screamed at Mama and got hit. It made her whole face tingle.  But there’s no mark to show it even happened.

 

When she gets to Michael and Jaimie’s, she lets Jesus help her up the steps and then she sits down in a chair in their dining room.  She can hear Jesus finally checking out the Polo. 

 

“Can Michael and Jaimie see this, too?  So they know what happened?”

 

Just barely, Fran nods.  She sees some really tiny notebook paper and writes one word on it.  So that somebody will know how she feels. What’s wrong. How to help.

 

She holds it in one hand, crunched in her fist.  She can’t plug her ears even though she wants to.  Jaimie’s talking to Fran, but she can’t listen. There’s a loud rushing sound in her ears.  Maybe her stress.

 

Fran thinks about the zombies she thought the Williamses kept here.  A whole room full of them. Thinks how she’d be at home there. With them.  How she would fit right in.

 

It takes forever for Mariana and Dominique to get here.  Mariana rushes to her. Tries to hug her and feels her body all stiff.

 

(It’s the curse, like what happened to Hermione once.  And Fran doesn’t mind it because it reminds her not to talk.)

 

She feels her whole chair being moved.  Out from under the table. Dominique has hands on her.  Taking Lefty off of where he’s hurting Righty, digging nails in as hard as possible.  Pinching.

 

Her voice sounds like it’s coming from far away.  

 

“Francesca.  Francesca. Look at me, babe,” Dominique encourages. 

 

But she doesn’t.  She just keeps looking at the paper Righty’s crunching.

 

It takes Dominique seconds that feel like hours to notice the paper, and when she does, Fran knows she’ll figure it all out.  Dominique has read Harry Potter a billion times. She’ll know. (She has to know. Otherwise Fran might feel stuck like this forever.)

 

“Pipes?”  

 

Francesca meets Dominique’s eyes.  

 

It takes her a minute to remember back to the second book.  When Harry and Ron finally found the tiny piece of paper Hermione held.  To be able to help her. 

 

“Ah…  You’ve been petrified,” she says in a sad voice, and like she totally believes it’s true. 

 

Francesca looks away again.

 

“Well,” Dominique sighs, trying to use her bravest voice.  Her lightest voice. “Now I have to send Roberta out to find one of those ugly little Mandrake baby plants.  Or...we can just see if we have one on hand. Come on, stand up.”

 

But that’s the whole point.  If Francesca stands up, then all her words might start escaping.  She’s still petrified.

 

Dominique doesn’t pull her.  Just waits.

 

“Hey, Dad?” Fran hears Dominique ask Michael.  “Do we have any leftover Mandrake Restorative Draught?”

 

“Let me look into it,” he says.

 

Fran can’t believe they’re taking her seriously.  Not making fun. Not handling her in a rough or mean way.

 

Lefty goes to pinch Righty again, and Dominique snags her hands.  Holds on tight.

 

\--

 

Michael sets to work in the kitchen.  He’s surprised when Jesus comes and stands beside him.  

 

“What can I do?  I kinda...need to do something,” he explains.  His eyes look troubled. Skin mottled. Pale.

 

“You ever made a draught before?” Michael asks taking his Nutri Ninja blender out of the cabinet.

 

“No,” Jesus swallows.

 

“Then, prepare to be amazed.”  

 

Together, they gather spinach, chopped rutabaga (an actual Mandrake plant if Michael’s ever seen one.  Those things are creepy as hell, pulled fresh from the dirt), pineapple, mango, banana and some water. Then, he calls out, “Everybody cover your ears.  The scream of a fully mature Mandrake root is deadly. And I want all my people alive.”

 

(Actually, the blender is easily the loudest appliance they own.  And he’s gotten used to warning Dom and Jaimie before he turns it on.)

 

Michael glances over his shoulder to see Francesca inching her hands to her ears.  Dominique, Mariana, Jaimie and Jesus follow suit.

 

With that, Michael blends the smoothie for several seconds.  Then, he pours it into two glasses.

 

He brings one out to Francesca.  “Now, I don’t know how this is gonna taste,” he warns.

 

\--

 

Fran reaches out and takes the glass.  Slowly. All her movements small. She brings the glass to her lips and grimaces.  But she makes herself swallow. Because she needs to talk. And maybe this will help.

 

It takes her a long time to finish all of her potion.  She leaves the second glass, in case she needs a backup.

 

“You feel like you can talk now?” Dominique asks.

 

“That was gross,” she says super quietly.  “But it’s supposed to be gross, right?”

 

“I don’t think potions taste good, no,” Dominique returns.

 

Jaimie joins then, getting down in front of them.  “I’d like to fix your arm,” she says seriously.

 

It makes Fran realize that all this time trying to keep The Thing a secret from Jaimie was for nothing, because she sees it right now.  

 

Fran glances around.  Sees Michael, Jesus and Mariana in the kitchen.

 

Nobody else is here staring.  Fran nods a little bit, and grabs Dominique’s hand.  Hopes she’ll know to stay.

 

Jaimie leaves to go to the bathroom and comes back with a cloth, some antibiotic cream and CandyLand bandaids.

 

Francesca doesn’t flinch when Jaimie washes her little cuts with some soap and then wipes the soap off with a cloth.

 

“I want you to know you’re not in trouble right now, babe,” Jaimie says.  “I understand coping is hard sometimes. I saw the video you sent.”

 

Francesca’s quiet, still holding Dominique’s hand.

 

Jaimie doesn’t say anything else for a while.  She puts the antibiotic cream on, covering up the cuts, and then, two bandaids over the top of them.

 

When she’s all done she asks: “Could you try writing down your feelings in a journal?”

 

Francesca bristles.  “That’s proof.”

 

“What do you mean?” Jaimie asks.

 

Fran feels her tears starting to build again.  “They’ll find it and make fun of it or act like it’s too dramatic.”  (She doesn’t say what she’s really afraid of...what Moms would maybe do if they found out she was writing about what really happened there.)

 

Jaimie looks concerned and mutters, “I see.”  She thinks for a while more. “Well, what about a journal you could keep here at the house?  Or with Jesus or Dominique? That you could write or draw your honest feelings in - with the understanding that no one would read it?”

 

Francesca’s feeling like she doesn’t quite believe anything like that could happen.  But she doesn’t want to hurt Jaimie’s feelings, so she says, “Maybe… I wish you and Michael were my real Mom and Dad.”

 

Jaimie glances up, surprised.  “Why do you wish that?”

 

Francesca blinks back more tears.  “You treat me like my feelings matter.”

 

Jaimie puts her arms around Francesca gently.  “Oh, Francesca. Your feelings do matter. They absolutely matter.  What your moms did to you was wrong.”

 

Francesca can hear Michael, Mariana and Jesus coming out to the living room.  Mostly, she can hear Dudley’s tags clinking together. She raises her head off of Jaimie’s shoulder and looks at Michael.

 

“Will you be my dad?” she manages through tears.  “Can you both adopt me, please?”

 

“Francesca, I’d be honored to be your dad,” Michael says, and he looks like he really means it.  “I know you’ve been having trouble with your moms finding out about Timothy.”

 

She nods, feeling broken.

 

“That’s unfair to you,” Michael says, like he’s hurt for her.  “It makes sense that you’ve been curious. There’s nothing wrong with writing your bio dad’s last name on your paper.”

 

“But there  _ is!”  _ Francesca sobs, raising her voice.  “If you saw they got mad, then you saw what they did!  I’m stupid!”

 

Mariana takes off her hoodie and hands it to Fran.  Holding onto it and seeing the pink, distracts her for a second.  She thinks of Mari saying “long sleeves” to protect from more bad coping.

 

Francesca almost doesn’t care about bad coping.  She’s almost about to do it more - who even cares - when Jesus is kneeling down in front of her.  Taking both her hands in his.

 

“Buddy, I know,” he says.

 

His voice sounds funny.  There might actually be tears in his eyes.

 

“You don’t!” she yells, pulling back against his hands.  But Jesus is strong and calm and he holds on. Because that’s what they promise to do for each other when one can’t be safe.  The other Avoiders are there for backup. Keeping you safe.

 

“I do,” repeats.  “Uh, can we have some privacy, please?” he asks.  

 

Everybody goes out to the kitchen, so they’re still around if Fran needs them, but not close enough to listen in.

 

“When the bad guy had me...he eventually let me go to school.  At the end of the first week, we had a spelling test. And I wrote down  _ Jesus Foster  _ on it.”

 

“But that  _ is _ your name.  For real,” Fran objects.

 

“It is.  But when the bad guy had me, in order to keep me controlled, he came up with a story.  He made me stick to the story. No matter what. A big part of that story was I couldn’t be Jesus anymore.  I had to go by another name that the bad guy gave me. I couldn’t tell anybody what my real name was.”

 

“Wait.  Is this the time when you got into big trouble?  Was it that spelling test?” Fran asks, feeling like this is a little familiar.

 

“Yeah.  I got into big trouble.  He hurt me and scared me.  He hit me, too, like Lena hit you…”

 

Francesca lunges forward and wraps her arms around Jesus, tight.  “It was just a mistake.”

 

“It was a mistake and it wasn’t?” Jesus shares, easing back, standing up.  

 

Fran does, too.  She moves aside in case he wants to sit on a chair.  

 

He does.  Then he says she can sit with him if she wants.  Michael, Jaimie, Dominique and Mariana aren’t watching.  So, Fran climbs up on Jesus’s lap. Leans against him.

 

“I wrote that name...hoping somebody would see it.  Would know it was me. Would find me.” Jesus whispers.

 

“I wrote it because...it seems more  _ me  _ than Adams Foster?  Is that rude? Disrespectful?  Like Moms say?”

 

“Wanting to know who you are is normal.” Jesus responds.  “Writing a name that you feel reflects you makes sense. It’s got nothing to do with Moms.  Maybe if they’d been more open with you to begin with, you wouldn’t be this hungry for info about yourself now…”

 

His phone buzzes on his hip.  “Hold on, buddy, I gotta take this.”

 

Dominique and Mariana come back from the kitchen to sit with her.

 

\--

 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Stef snaps as soon as Jesus steps outside to take the call.  “You cannot just spirit Frankie away whenever she is in trouble!”

 

“What do you think  _ you’re _ doing, Stef?” Jesus snaps.  He’s over pretending. Over calling them Mom and Mama to their face for their own comfort.

 

“Excuse me, young man…” Stef warns.  “All you are teaching your little sister is to run away from things that scare her!”

 

“And you’re teaching her to be afraid of you!” Jesus insists.  “ _ I know _ what happened, okay?  I know. And you’ve got another thing coming if you think she is coming back there tonight.”

 

There’s muffled sounds on the other end of the line.  Lena picks up. “Jesus?”

 

For a second, he’s hurtled back through time.  He’s thirteen, and speaking to her for the first time in over four years, by phone, like this.  But he grits his teeth against the memory. Fights it back. They are not those people anymore. Maybe they never were.

 

They’re  _ these _ people.

 

“Jesus, please put Frankie on the phone.”

 

“No way in hell…” Jesus warns.

 

“Jesus, I just wanna apologize.  I know I went too far.” Lena’s voice is strained.

 

“Yeah, well this isn’t the first time that’s happened…” Jesus insists, his voice low.  “We’ll talk later. In the meantime, Fran needs to rest.”

 

He hangs up, in time to see an incoming call from Levi.

 

\--

 

“Hello?” Jesus asks.

 

“Hey.  Pearl and I are looking at flights.  Is the option to stay at your place still good?”

 

“Yeah, absolutely.  When?”

 

“Tomorrow.  Thinking of staying a week?  Leaving the 19th? Pearl’s gonna call Dominique and check with her, too.  But can you not tell Fran or Mari? We wanna surprise them, if that’s cool.”

 

“Cool.  Let me know when you have confirmation about what flight and when it’ll be here.  I’ll come pick you up from the airport.”

 

“Cool.”

 

“And Levi?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Thanks for coming.  Tell Pearl?”

 

“No problem, man.  It’s what we do. See you tomorrow.”

 

“See you.” Jesus says, hanging up.

 

\--

 

He goes back inside, seeing Dominique excuse herself from Fran and Mari. 

 

Jesus stops back by Fran and checks in with her again.  “Hey, buddy, turn your phone off, okay?”

 

“I have it,” Mariana insists.  “Moms were calling her. So I turned it off and Fran’s letting me keep it...for now…”

 

Mari looks pale.  Exhausted. Devastated.  No doubt a mirror of how he feels.

 

“So, buddy, where do you wanna be tonight?” Jesus asks Fran.

 

Francesca’s face starts to crumble.  Tiny, broken sobs can be heard as she covers her face.

 

“Hey...Fran…  It’s alright…” Jaimie reassures.  She rubs her back. “You’re safe here.”

 

“I don’t...wanna...go...home…” she manages.

 

“Buddy, I meant do you wanna stay  _ here _ ?” Jesus asks, raising his eyebrows at Jaimie and Michael “If it’s okay with Dominique’s parents.  Or do you wanna sleep over at my apartment,” he says, hugging her gently. “I should’ve been more specific.  I’m sorry.”

 

“Moms...don’t know where this is…” Francesca whispers.  “Do they? Did you tell them?”

 

“No, I didn’t,” Jesus tells her softly.  “I think they just think we’re at my place right now.”

 

“Then can I stay here?”  She glances at Dominique as she comes back in the room.  “Can it be like Sister Sleepover Part Two?”

 

“Of course,” Dominique nods.

 

“We meant it when we said you’re always welcome here,” Michael says firmly.

 

“There’s fresh sheets on Dom’s bed, and I can make up the couch for you, Jesus, if you’re most comfortable there,” Jaimie says.

 

“That’d be great,” Jesus answers softly.

 

He meets Dominique’s eyes across the room and she studies him knowingly.  He nods. She nods back. He’s not sure if it’s about Pearl’s call, or if she’s letting him know the air’s clear after they talked through the whole Isaac ice cream debacle earlier tonight.

 

Either way, he’s glad to be here tonight.  Taking care of his sis.

 

Right where he should be.


	48. Skeletons

The drive to Jaimie and Michael’s feels like it takes forever.  Mariana’s heart pounds. Dominique keeps asking what happened. So finally, Mariana plays the Polo again from the back seat, this time, listening all through their excruciatingly long dinner, where Fran gives one-word answers to Moms’ questions.

 

When they get to Lena slapping Francesca, Mariana just manages to choke back a sob.  Dominique gasps, the sound magnified even louder via the Polo’s microphone that makes Fran’s regular breathing sound like Darth Vader’s.  (And Mariana usually only notices it when Fran is sleeping hard.)

 

Mariana’s only slightly relieved when Stef’s phone rings.  When she says Pearl’s name. When she sends Fran to her room.

 

She hasn’t watched this far yet.  And her heart speeds even faster seeing Fran’s perspective as she waits around a corner for a while, before sneaking to the front door and easing it open.  It’s dark, but the video adjusts. Fran’s breathing punctuates the video, labored, and just barely concealing her tears.

 

Mariana’s confused as Fran darts around the side of the house until she remembers there are no windows there.  That she and Jesus worked this out so Fran could wait somewhere safe.

 

“Am I dreaming right now?” Fran’s voice begs.  “Please come, please come, please come, please come…”  

 

Eventually, that chant becomes more broken.  “Don’t forget me, please…” Fran cries in a whisper.  And finally, as if it’s the only way she has to keep it together, she starts repeating all their names on a loop: “Pearl, Mariana, Jesus, Dominique, Levi, Francesca.  Pearl, Mariana, Jesus, Dominique, Levi, Francesca.” Over and over and over, until headlights can be seen blinking three times on the street.

 

When Fran is safely in the car with Jesus, she takes the phone and turns it off.  Tears have dried on her face. She’s that grey color she had been when Mari found her hiding in the closet.

 

Luckily, or not, the Polo takes about as much time as it takes Mari and Dom to arrive at Jaimie and Michael’s house.  Dom offers a hand, even though they both just want to blink and be right there beside Fran.

 

Dominique stays right with Mariana.  Offering her a hand all the way up the stairs.  It’s a good thing, too, because Mari feels shaky as hell.  This is her fault. She knows. It was her dumbass suggestion that made it possible for Fran to meet Timothy in the first place.  She’s the one who let Lena drop her off at rehab after letting Fran stay at home with Moms. Why hadn’t she insisted Fran go to Jesus’s?  What kind of a sister is she?

 

At the top of the stairs, Mariana can see Fran, sitting in a dining room chair.  Stoic. Silent. Blank. Mariana’s seen her like this before. But she can’t stop herself from rushing to Francesca.  Wrapping her arms around her from behind - the only part of her Mariana can reach.

 

She’s stiff.  (Not stiffening  _ at _ Mariana’s touch, but she’s  _ been _ stiff.)  “Fran?” Mariana wonders.

 

Mariana watches as Dominique pulls the chair out from under the table.  Sees Fran pinching herself. Remembers her asking, “ _ Am I dreaming _ ?”  Wants to tell Fran she’s not.  She’s safe now. But none of those words are anywhere near available right now.  She watches Dominique finally notice the paper Fran is clutching. Figure out the Harry Potter reference on it.

 

Mariana just sits next to Fran, afraid to leave her side.  She doesn’t know if Fran even notices Mariana’s there. Or if she can’t let herself yet.

 

She can’t do anything except urge Fran to cover her ears when Michael warns them about Mandrake roots from the kitchen.  “Cover your ears,” she urges (those words available, thanks to Michael.) 

 

Slowly, Fran does.

 

Mariana stays while Fran drinks her potion.  It looks nasty. But is probably super healthy.  And it seems to be what Fran needs to start talking again.

 

But when Jaimie comes and says she’d like to fix Fran’s arm, something breaks in Mariana.  But she forces herself to stay. To bear witness to Fran’s pain. Her sadness. Michael tries to talk to her about how what she did was not wrong.  Fran screams back that it is. That she’s stupid. 

 

Mariana takes off her bright pink hoodie and sets it in Fran’s lap.  Then, she gets up and excuses herself. First she ends up in the kitchen.  Then on the Williamses back patio.

 

Sobbing.

 

How?  Just how could she have let this happen to her baby sister?  Twice? It was bad enough last spring with Stef threatening Fran with jail.  But now? With Lena actually hitting her? It’s like Mariana’s falling into the deepest hole imaginable.  

 

This has been her worst fear.

 

It makes everything Mariana buried come back in sharp clarity.  

 

\--

 

Nick Stratos, the cute, rich kid on campus had somehow noticed Mariana.  He’d given her a ride back to her dorm once in the dark, before deciding to show off by doing donuts in the empty parking lot.  Mariana had felt sure she was going to be sick. But before she could be, campus security busted them both. And Mariana was humiliated.

 

_ “I did the crime, I’ll do the time _ ,” Nick had magnanimously offered.  And she unashamedly spent days watching him from her favorite study spot on campus.  Nick, in knee pads, scrubbing all evidence of his skid marks from the asphalt.

 

On the third day, Nick approached her.  “ _ Like what you see _ ?” he asked.

 

“ _ Maybe _ …” Mariana allowed.

 

“ _ Good.  ‘Cause I wanna take you out.  I’ll even let you borrow these _ ,” he said, tossing the knee pads on the table where she worked.

 

_ “You’re disgusting,”  _ Mariana insisted, getting up from the table to walk away.

 

_ “Hold on!  Hold on, okay?  I’m sorry. You just make me say stupid things.” _

 

_ “So, it’s  _ my _ fault?”  _ Mariana had seethed.

 

“ _ Yes!  You’re kinda hot when you’re mad, though…”  _ he admitted and before she knew what either of them were doing, they were making out.

 

Things got busy.  Nick asked her out, but she kept having to postpone.  First, over holiday break. Then again, when classes started in January.  Finally, the first week in February, he caught her in one of the student buildings.

 

“ _ Foster _ !” he called.

 

Mariana turned, to see him coming toward her.   _ “Stratos!” _ she returned, playfully.

 

“ _ You owe me.” _

 

_ “I  _ owe _ you,” _ Mariana repeated.

 

“ _ You keep bailing on me.  So, Friday night. Valentine’s.  Let me wow you.” _

 

_ “Wow me?  Okay. Friday.” _ Mariana had agreed.

 

“ _ No bailing _ !” Nick challenged.  “ _ 7:00.  I’ve got us reservations at Boulevard.” _

 

And the night had been perfect.  Delicious food. Great conversation.  Nick had been a total gentleman. And he kept complimenting her.  And ordering her more wine. So that when he invited her back to his dorm, she felt comfortable.  Not anxious. And even though she’d been a little tipsy, she had not been drunk. Mariana enjoyed making out, but when his hand found the zipper at the back of her dress, she rolled so his hand was trapped under her.

 

_ “Seriously?  No,”  _ Mariana insisted.

 

_ “Seriously yes,”  _ Nick returned. _  “You agreed that you owe me.  You’re here. On the date. So, it’s time to pay up.  Do you have any idea how much that fancy dinner we just had cost me?” _

 

_ “I didn’t ask for that,” _ she protested.  The slap stung her face and jerked her head to the side.  

 

She remembers how Nick pinned her hands above her head with one hand.

 

How she froze, unable to scream or fight.  (Feeling another hand, years ago, groping beneath Ana’s big tee shirt she gave Mariana to sleep in when she was little.  When they still lived with her. When all she’d wanted was a damn graham cracker.)

 

Two and a half weeks were lost in a haze of alcohol and partying.  And then she’d crashed. Ruining Moms’ lives and making ridiculous decisions that did nothing but get Francesca hurt.

 

\--

 

“Hey...are you okay?”

 

Mariana turns to see Dominique easing open the back door.  Coming to stand with her. Not talking.

 

Taking a deep breath, Mariana shakes her head.  “I’m remembering....before the accident… I didn’t before, but now…” Mariana shrugs.  “Is Fran okay?”

 

“Jesus is with her.  He asked for some privacy to talk with her.  Mom fixed up her arm.”

 

Mariana nods.  “That’s good. But I feel terrible.  Like a terrible sister.”

 

“Me, too,” Dominique echoes.  “Me and Jesus were literally taking time talking about a thing from months ago.  Both of our Polos went off around the same time and I was gonna check it…but I didn’t...you know… and now?”

 

“We should go back in,” Mariana decides abruptly, not able to handle anymore guilt.

 

\--

 

It turns out to be just in time, because Jesus gets a call and has to step out.  Her own phone rings and her heart plummets as the ringtone she picked for Lena - Space Signal - plays loud enough for the room to hear.  She hits the red Decline button, and turns her phone off.

 

Mariana reclaims her chair next to Fran just in time for Francesca’s phone to start ringing.  

 

Fran turns wide, brown eyes to Mariana.  Clearly, she’s terrified.

 

“She keeps calling,” Francesca swallows.

 

“Here,” Mariana holds out a hand for Fran’s phone, and Fran gives it to her.  Mariana declines the call and turns the sound down, too. “I can keep this. For a bit.  So you don’t have to worry…” Mariana offers.

 

“Yeah,” Francesca nods, fearful.

 

“You feeling okay?” Dominique checks, and Fran shrugs.  (Mariana notices she’s wearing the pink hoodie.)

 

“I don’t know.” Fran admits, playing with one of the sweatshirt cuffs.  “I really don’t want them to find me…”

 

“I know you’re really worried about your moms finding you here,” Dominique tells Fran gently.  “But we’ve got you. When you get scared, I want you to tell yourself that.”

 

“You’ve got me?” Fran asks, her voice wavering.

 

Dominique nods.

 

“You’ve got me.  You’ve got me. You’ve got me…” Fran stops and takes a deep breath.  “What if they figure out where I am, though? I’m just asking, because I have to know what to do.”

 

“Slow breath, Francesca,” Dominique cues.  

 

Fran does take one, just in time for Dominique to get a call and excuse herself.  Luckily, Jesus comes back then. He tells Fran to turn her phone off. Mariana reassures him that she has it.  That, in this small way, she’s managed to come through for Francesca.

 

“So, buddy, where do you want to be tonight?” Jesus asks Fran softly.

 

And Francesca’s tenuous grip on control gives way as she breaks into tears, covering her face.  Mariana’s reminded of when Fran was tiny. Just a baby. When Mari would leave a room, sometimes baby Fran would cry like that.

 

Jaimie walks up behind Francesca and lays a hand on her back gently.  Telling Fran it’s okay. She’s safe.

 

“I don’t...wanna...go home...” Fran manages between sobs.

 

Jesus clarifies that he meant given a choice between here and Jaimie and Michael’s and his apartment, where would she choose to be?  Fran, after double-checking that Moms don’t know the Williamses address, and don’t know they’re here, chooses to stay where she is. Jaimie tells them they can keep the same sleeping arrangements as the Sister Sleepover.

 

This time, Mariana climbs into bed the exact same time as Francesca.  Fran’s exhausted, but wired. Still shaking, even though it’s been hours.

 

Dominique climbs in on the other side of Francesca.  And together they hold her.

 

“What about school tomorrow?” Francesca worries.  “If I have to go then I’ll have to see Lena. What if she, like, calls me down to her office?  Then, I’ll have to go because she’s the principal…”

 

“Babe, what’s happening right now?  Can you tell me?” Dominique asks in the dark.

 

“You and Mari are holding me?” Fran asks, her voice shaking.

 

“And you consent?” Dominique double checks, even though they literally just asked her, as they got into bed, and Fran said an emphatic yes.

 

“Yes.  Don’t let go, please…” Fran begs.

 

“We won’t.  If it ever doesn’t feel safe, tell us or give us some kind of sign.  We respect you and your space.”

 

“Can you come to school with me?” Fran whispers in Mari’s ear.  “Like you did before when Stef scared me and Lena made me have detention and handled me and stuff?”

 

“Yeah, I can.” Mari nods.  “And I love you. And I’m so sorry they hurt you.  Sorry I got you in trouble.”

 

“You didn’t.  Moms just can’t deal.  Like you said about the bio parents, except in reverse kind of.  Because Lena  _ is _ my bio parent and  _ she _ can’t deal.”  She sighs. “I wish tomorrow was Indigenous Peoples’ Day and not today.  I wanna stay with you and Dom…”

 

“I know…” Mariana nods.

 

“I love you, Mariana, and Dominique,” Fran whispers.  “Thanks for always keeping me safe.”

 

But all Mariana can think is how they’re always there just a little too late.


	49. A Thousand Miles

“Levi, we need to do something…” Pearl insists just after she hangs up with Stef.  

 

Pearl had managed to keep her on the phone for a good ten minutes by letting her rant and another five by asking questions.  Levi had fast-forwarded the majority of Fran’s Polo to the point where headlights appeared on the street, blinking three times in succession.  Then, he’d signaled Pearl, and she had wrapped up the call, knowing that Jesus would be calling them soon, to say he’d had plans with Fran.

 

“I know,” Levi manages.  He seems stressed, just knowing Francesca needed an emergency pickup.  “What happened? I mean...do I wanna know?” he asks, wary.

 

“Probably not,” Pearl admits.

 

“Okay but can you tell me anyway?  Like, the broad strokes?” Levi asks.

 

So, Pearl had, watching Levi’s eyes darken as Pearl shared about Lena actually slapping Francesca.  (A slap had never seemed like a big deal to Pearl growing up. She’d experienced plenty at the hands of her own mom.  But then, she’d never witnessed one as an adult, from a child’s perspective.)

 

“We have to do something,” Levi says, echoing Pearl.  He’s making loops from the kitchen to the living room and back, Panther trotting by his side like this is a fun game.  “I almost think…” he ventures on his next pass.

 

“...We have to go.” Pearl finishes, watching Levi stop in his tracks.

 

“Yeah.  Exactly.  We have to show up for them.  Like they showed up for us.” Levi says.  “But, I mean, I know traveling’s something you don’t really do a lot of…  Would you be okay?”

 

“Levi, I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t go.  I’m not saying you don’t have a choice in what you do.  Because you do, and I won’t judge it. But I can’t stay home knowing this is happening to Fran.”

 

“And Mari…”

 

“What?” Pearl asks.

 

“Well, isn’t it safe to assume?  If they’re doing it to one kid, they’re probably doing it to another?  Your mom didn’t just hurt me, she hurt you, too. Not in the same way, but…  They both need us.” Levi comments quietly.

 

“I’m gonna look at flights.  Tuesdays offer the cheapest prices.” Pearl says, getting her laptop and settling in.

 

“Wait.  How do you know that?” Levi asks, perplexed.

 

“I read,” Pearl answers, matter of fact.

 

“Like, tomorrow.” Levi realizes.  “You’re saying Tuesday, as in tomorrow?”

 

“Yeah.  Is that okay?  I just thought we’d wanna get there ASAP.”  

 

“We do...and it is...  It’s just… We can?” Levi looks a little stunned.  Probably because Pearl hesitated every single time someone mentioned California or travel to her.  But this is different. This is an emergency.

 

“We’re both adults.  You’re off for the entire month.  I don’t work outside the home. It’s fine.  Oh, but can you call Jesus and Dominique and double check that their offer for company is still good?” Pearl asks.

 

“And I need to see if Mom will take Panther back.  For, what, say, a week?” Levi checks.

 

“I’ve got a Sun Country flight.  Tomorrow morning. Four hours. 7 - 9 AM with the time change.  Just over $200 a person. We could do Tuesday to Wednesday. So we’d be back the 20th. There’s also an afternoon flight.  Departs at 3 PM and we’d get there by 5:00 with the time change. What do you think?”

 

“Not really a morning person?” Levi admits.  “But I’d get up early for Mari and Fran.”

 

“I think Francesca will probably be in school tomorrow until around 3 PM anyway.  But it would be nice to be there for her when she gets out. Ooh, but it’s also a really long drive to and from that airport.  I’ll have to check and see if Jesus will be okay with driving to LA on his own.” Pearl cringes.

 

“I’m calling him now,” Levi says, holding a hand up.  

 

In seconds, the call is over.  Pearl looks at Levi curiously. “He said he’s open to letting me stay, and he’d be glad to pick us up.  I think we should do the early one. If he had to pick us up by 5:00, he wouldn’t be able to be there for Fran and I think she needs a friendly face at pickup.”

 

“Early it is,” Levi nods.  

 

“So I’m gonna purchase two tickets so we can hopefully sit near each other.” Pearl clicks some keys on her laptop.

 

“Should I pay you back?” Levi asks.

 

“Actually, would you mind covering anything that comes up when we get there?  Food? Stuff like that? Would that be okay?” Pearl asks.

 

“Yeah, that works,” Levi nods.  He gives Pearl a thumbs-up to boarding Panther with his mom.

 

Meanwhile, Pearl’s calling Dominique, to double check that it’s okay for her to stay there.

 

“Hey, how’s it going?” Pearl wonders.

 

“It’s intense as hell.  I better never see their parents again, Pearl…” Dominique says, her voice a quiet threat.

 

“Listen, Levi and I are looking at flights right now.  To California. Tomorrow. I’m wondering if your invitation to stay is still good.  Looks like it could be a Tuesday to Wednesday situation. You can totally say no. We’d have to stretch a bit more financially, but we could make other arrangements.”

 

“No, no.  You can stay.  I only have a couch.  So, if you don’t mind that…” Dominique ventures.

 

“I mean, it’s how I sleep now anyway…” Pearl points out.  “So, not much change.”

 

“You’re not allergic to cats are you?  Is Levi?” Dominique checks.

 

“Oh, gosh, we get to meet the famous Roberta!  No, I’m not allergic. Levi, are you allergic to Roberta?” Pearl asks.

 

“No,” Levi grins even though he looks stressed.  “Hey, ask Dom if Roberta still wants to be serenaded…”

 

Pearl grins back, confused.  She speaks into the phone. “Levi wants to know if Roberta would still like to be serenaded?”

 

“She would love it,” Dominique nods.  “Listen, I gotta get back. Thank y’all so much for coming.”

 

“You’re welcome.  Oh, don’t tell Mari or Fran?  Just in case something falls through…  We don’t want them to be disappointed. Otherwise, we’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

 

“Sounds good.  Bye.”

 

\--

 

Pearl and Levi spend the rest of the evening packing what they’ll need and touching base with Jesus about the time of their flight.  Levi drops Panther off with lots of kisses and promises to be back soon. They make sure to Polo Fran back, too.

 

“ _ Fran, we’re so sorry this happened.  We wish we were there. But we’re glad you’re safe _ ,” Pearl says.  

 

_ “Yeah, Fran.  Totally wish I was there to intercept you like at the cabin.  So you wouldn’t be hurt. Maybe just a little scared. We love you.  You don’t deserve what happened.” _

 

\--

 

In the end, Pearl figures it’s better just to stay up tonight.  By the time they’re done packing it’s pushing 2 AM. They need to leave the house by 3:00 to get to MSP by 5:00, giving them a good two hours to get set before they catch their flight.

 

“So, are you really gonna be okay?” Levi asks.  “I get there’s kinda a rush with this, but I know you’re not the most comfortable with being...I don’t know...just out.”

 

“I’m not comfortable being out  _ here _ because I know everyone, and everyone knows me.  Everyone also knows my trauma. My hope is, going farther away, where less people know me, and where my trauma  _ isn’t _ ….might be okay,” Pearl ventures.  “Besides, I’ll have you and Cleo. I won’t be alone.”

 

“Definitely not.  Hey, I can drive us to the airport, if you’d rather not drive in the dark.  I mean, if you trust me to do that?” Levi asks.

 

“That’s so sweet, and I think it would really help, if you wouldn’t mind,” Pearl says.

 

“Anything that will help, just let me know.  Seriously,” Levi says.

 

“And same for you,” Pearl returns.  “I know we’re venturing away from Peanut Butter Cookie territory, but Stef and Lena are...very much like that.  So, a little sisterly advice?”

 

“Sure.  Please,” Levi nods.

 

“If Fran or Mari need a pickup from there while we’re visiting?  Maybe you hang back? At Jesus’s or Avoidance, or…”

 

Levi’s eyes light up and so do Pearl’s.  

 

“Oh, my God…” he starts.

 

“We get to go to Avoidance!  I know!” Pearl exclaims. “This is amazing!  I mean...I know Fran and Mariana being in danger is not amazing, but they’re safe right now.”

 

“I think they’d be happy about it,” Levi points out.  “And, yeah, I’ll totally take your advice and hang back.”

 

\--

 

Before they know it, they’re loading the car.  Time passes quickly thanks to Levi knowing absolutely every single song on the radio and singing to all of them.  It soothes Pearl and allows her to actually nod off for most of the drive.

 

The airport is another matter.  Even though it’s 5 AM and still dark out, it is jam packed with people.  Thankfully, Levi’s traveled out of state before, and he knows what to do.  He’s comfortable going up the desks and talking to employees.

 

They’re at security screening, where people are removing jackets.  Shoes. Purses. Everything. Where some are being motioned aside. She gulps.  This is what Jesus ran into when he was traveling. 

 

Pearl clears her throat, nervous.  “This...uh… This is routine?”

 

“Unfortunately.  We’ll probably get picked.  Just...be cool. It’s over fast.” Levi manages.

 

It’s as if Levi’s psychic.  Both of them do get picked. And Pearl just focuses on Levi’s words.  On Cleo, safely with Levi for the moment. She answers the questions and is through fast.  Levi, thankfully, has already gone.

 

They have time for a quick trip to the restrooms before they board.

 

Jesus has sent a Polo a couple hours earlier when he was about to head to bed.  

 

“ _ Hey, wishing you guys safe travels.  See you soon. Hope it’s not too terrible.  I know, Pearl, this has always made you nervous, and you didn’t have six months to plan for it like we did.  If you need anything, let me know. Otherwise Dudley and I will be there at 9 AM to get you.” _

 

Pearl updates Jesus via Marco Polo from there, hoping to minimize for him any sightings of security or extra baggage.  “ _ Hey.  This is the last stop literally before we board.  Then we’re on our way to you. _ _ I’m doing okay.” _

 

But when Pearl boards she feels like she’s entering a giant cesspool of germs.  She sprays on copious amounts of her favorite sanitizer spray, called  _ OnGuard _ , hyperly listens to the pre-flight instructions and unashamedly (and consensually) holds Levi’s hand as they take off.

 

Then, Pearl falls asleep out of sheer exhaustion, her head on Levi’s shoulder.

 

\--

 

Levi’s stomach drops a little bit as the plane starts its descent.  He jerks awake, startled to have slept the entire four hours, his cheek against the top of Pearl’s head.  He pulls the Dad-blanket closer around them. (Dad would definitely love to see California…)

 

Moments later, Pearl’s awake, too, clutching Cleo in one hand and Levi’s hand in the other.

 

“Is this normal?” she gasps.

 

“Yeah.  It’s okay,” Levi encourages.  “It’s like a roller coaster…”

 

“Except my ears won’t stop popping…” Pearl ventures, afraid.

 

Thankfully, when they touch down, she relaxes.  

 

Levi folds the blanket and puts it in their carry on, while Pearl makes sure she has Cleo safely with her.

 

\--

 

They arrive at LAX and Pearl immediately texts Jesus:

 

_ Pearl: _

_ Sorry, should have told you you don’t have to wait inside.  So many triggers for you. We’re here but will find you. _

 

_ Jesus: _

_ Dudley and I are outside.  In the car. Let me know which doors you come out of. _

 

\--

 

Dudley sees Pearl, Levi and Cleo first and lets out a loud, low woof.  That’s all it takes for Jesus to get out of the car. Sunglasses, beanie hat and all.

 

“I can’t believe you’re actually here.  Pearl, how was flying out?” he greets them, arms open for hugs.  Levi launches into them.

 

“Terrifying,” Pearl admits as she goes around back to stow her bags in the trunk.  Levi follows suit.

 

Jesus gives Pearl a concerned look.

 

“Sorry.  I am very glad to see you, but I just...being around thousands of people was not good for my trust issues and I’m showing my appreciation for your friendship and my respect for you as a person by sparing you any undue sight of luggage…” Pearl explains.

 

“Makes sense,” Jesus nods.  “I appreciate you both, too.”

 

“Is Fran okay?” Levi checks.

 

“I mean, relatively speaking.  I left the Williamses hella early and everybody was still sleeping.  Michael got up and gave me coffee and a really good muffin for the road. Mariana’s going to school with Fran today.  I was there by video, while I was still driving out here.”

 

“Why?” Levi asks.

 

“Because I got special former missing kid powers.  Don’t have to sign in. Nobody bugs me. And if I show up with my sibs, even remotely?  That means nobody’s gonna hassle them. Lena already tried to pull Fran aside and talk to her.”  Jesus grimaces.

 

“Good thing you were there,” Pearl says.

 

“Yeah, but he shouldn’t have to be.  You and Mari and Dom and her parents shouldn’t have to guard Fran in order for her to be safe from your parents.  Like...you get that’s not usually how it goes, right?” Levi asks.

 

Jesus shrugs.  “Well, it kinda is for me.  Oh. P.S. Dominique’s at work until like noon, so she said she hopes you’re cool hanging out with us until she’s back.” Jesus looks at Pearl.  “What do you wanna do?’

 

“Can we eat?” Pearl asks.  “I’m really hungry.”

 

“Yeah, here, I brought backup food,” Jesus says, offering the purple lunch bag.

 

“Jesus, this is yours,” Pearl objects.

 

“Yeah, but I ate out of it already.  Dudley saw me.”

 

Dudley smiles a huge doggy smile.

 

“See?” Jesus checks, smiling, too.

 

“So, it’s okay if I unzip this?” Pearl checks.

 

“Go for it,” Jesus nods.

 

“Ooh, sandwiches,” Levi exclaims, leaning in.

 

Pearl takes a bite, and settles in for a long ride.

 

She still can’t believe she did this.

 

But there’s absolutely nowhere else she’d rather be.


	50. Keep An Eye On Me

Francesca is lucky she wakes up in between Mariana and Dominique at Michael and Jaimie’s house.  She climbs down between them and out of bed, hesitating at the bedroom door. She’s still in her clothes from yesterday and even though there was no school, she doesn’t want to ever wear them again, especially not to school.

 

But what choice does she have?  Unless they, like, run to Jesus’s apartment and get an outfit from there.  

 

Oh no!  

 

Her backpack!

 

It’s at home with Moms right now!  

 

In order to even get it, she has to go back there.  She bites her lip to keep her tears in and opens the bedroom door.  She has to go out to the living room and wake Jesus up. Have him drive her over.  Fran checks behind her and Mari and Dom are still sleeping. Roberta moved from the end of the bed right up into Fran’s spot.

 

Turning her attention back to the hall, Fran blinks.  Right there in front of her is her backpack, and an outfit.  A note from Jesus is on the bedroom door.

 

A super happy-looking egg and toast are holding hands and dancing at the top.  Underneath them, it says:

 

_ Hey Buddy, _

 

_ I don’t want you to worry about me.  I just had a thing to do, but I will be back this afternoon to pick you and Mariana up from school.  Michael will make you breakfast. I stopped by home and got you clothes (and by Moms’ and got your bag.)  Seemed packed and ready to go. You are always prepared. I am proud of you. And I promise we will figure all this out.  You don’t have to worry about going back to Moms’ until we do. If you and Mari need me at school, send me a Polo.  _

 

_ Love, Jesus _

 

Francesca breathes a sigh of relief.  Her big brother and sisters think of everything.  She takes the note off the door and folds it up. Then she takes the clothes to the bathroom and gets dressed.  She puts the note from Jesus in her shirt pocket. ( _ Code Like a Girl  _ again today.  The red one. She’s glad to wear it going to school with Mari, but she hopes it doesn’t hurt Mari’s feelings.)

 

By the time she’s dressed and in the kitchen, Michael is there.  Coffee is brewing, and he’s singing a song about how he ain’t too proud to beg.  There’s French toast sizzling in a pan, and it smells the best.

 

“Hey.  Good morning, Francesca.  How’d you sleep?” he asks.

 

“Hard,” she says.

 

“Like, it was hard for you to sleep?” he checks.

 

“No, it was easy to sleep.  Like when you sleep so hard, you drool on the pillow?” she checks.  (Maybe that doesn’t happen to everybody. Maybe it’s just her and Mari who have great sleeps, especially on brand new clean sheets.)

 

“Ah, well I am glad to hear that,” Michael says.  “Breakfast will be ready in a bit.”

 

Francesca wanders into the living room and sees all of Jesus’s blankets folded neatly on the end.  The pillow he used is on top.

 

There’s also a pair of Mariana’s favorite navy blue sweats, and her birthday shirt from Jaimie and Michael.  On top of all that is the pink hat that Pearl made her. And Levi’s notebook for her.

 

\--

 

The rest of the morning passes in a rush.  Fran eats French toast, and Jaimie fixes Fran’s hair at the table.  She says she’s sorry for pulling every single time, even if it’s an accident and brushes super gently.  They even stop off in the bathroom and Jaimie makes sure her bad coping has a new bandaid and antibiotic cream on it.

 

“Do you wanna see the bandaid or not?” Jaimie asks.  

 

“Kids at school might ask...and teachers…” Francesca hesitates.

 

“Here.  Michael got me these because my arms always get cold,” Jaimie opens a drawer and takes out lime green...Fran doesn’t know what they are.

 

“Legwarmers for your arms?” Fran wonders.

 

“Kinda,” Jaimie laughs.  “They’re just called sleeves.  And you can wear them with your shirt.  Do you think you’d like to wear them?”

 

“Could you help?” Fran asks, softly.

 

“Sure, I can help.  I can always help,” Jaimie reassures and eases the sleeves up Fran’s arms.

 

“I look like a Christmas tree,” she observes.

 

In the end they switch to the grey pair which go with Fran’s leggings.

 

Before they leave the bathroom, Jaimie surprises her with a question.  “How’s your face, babe?”

 

“Oh, it’s fine…” Fran insists, uncomfortable.

 

“May I?” Jaimie asks.

 

Francesca nods, not knowing what Jaimie’s thinking of doing.  But she just barely touches Fran’s chin and turns her face to the side.  “Looks okay.”

 

And Fran’s glad.  She never wants proof to show.

 

Mariana got dressed in Jaimie and Michael’s room, even in her hat (even though hats aren’t allowed in school), and Jaimie offers to drive them to school.

 

Francesca doubles back and taps on Dominique’s bedroom door.  “Hi. I mean, bye. I’m going to school.”

 

“Bye,” Dominique says, sitting up and opening her arms.  

 

Fran goes into them, squeezing hard.

 

“You’ll be safe with Mariana, okay?  And you can always call my parents if you need backup from a safe adult,” Dominique tells Fran.

 

“I know.”

 

“Avoidance after school, okay?  So whatever happens, you’ve got that to look forward to.”

 

Finally, Fran smiles.

 

\--

 

When they get to school at 7:55, they don’t have to sign in.  But then the worst thing happens. The secretary hands Francesca a white square of paper.  A pass. That says:  _ Principal Adams Foster _ and  _ 8:03 A.M.  _ and  _ Principal’s office _ on it.  In Lena's exact writing.

 

Fran backs away from the front desk - from all the offices - and rushes outside.  Her breathing is fast, and her heart is even faster.

 

Mari’s right behind her.  “Fran? What is that?”

 

Francesca shoves the paper in Mari’s hand.  “Lena wants me to go to her office right when school starts.”  She’s kind of gasping.

 

“Okay.  You wanna call Jesus?” Mariana asks.

 

“Yes,” Fran manages, just barely keeping her feelings in.  

 

But it’s a good idea to Polo Jesus because it takes all of Fran’s concentration to go to the app.  Find hers and Jesus’s little square and tap it. And tap  _ Start _ .

 

“Jesus, Lena gave me this…” Fran flips the camera so it’s showing the awful pass.  “I have choir first today! It’s not fair! That’s my favorite class! I don’t wanna do this.  I don’t wanna do this. I don’t wanna do this. I don’t wanna do this,” Fran repeats it fast, and it’s like she can’t stop the words from pouring out of her mouth.

 

She’s shaking like it’s leftover from last night.

 

She hits  _ Stop  _ accidentally, and there’s Jesus right away, talking to her.

 

“ _ Francesca.  I’m right here, okay?  You got your Avoider bracelet, right?  And Mari’s there with you _ ?”

 

Fran checks for both.  She does have them. 

 

“Yeah,” she says quietly, even though Jesus won’t be able to hear her.

 

“ _ So, slow breath _ ,” Jesus says.  

 

Francesca takes one, blinking tears back.

 

“ _ You’re panicking right now, and that makes sense.  But I’m not. Mari and I? We’ve got you. We’re here.  You keep taking slow breaths, okay? Take your time. And when you’re ready, you and Mariana go to choir.  I’m gonna call Lena. She’s not gonna bother you. Trust me. Slow breaths. You got this. _ ” Jesus says, before he stops recording.

 

Her hands are still shaking, but Fran presses  _ Start _ one more time, and says, “Thank you, Jesus.”

 

She and Mariana stay outside until all the other kids are in.  Mariana starts to sing quietly - this really old song Francesca remembers loving when she was little.

 

“ _ Baby, you light up my world like nobody else.  The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed.  But when you smile at the ground, it ain’t hard to tell.  You don’t know, oh, oh. You don’t know you’re beautiful _ .” Mariana sings.

 

Because of choir, and because Fran is an alto, she’s learning about harmonies, like Callie and Mariana used to make when they sang together.  Mariana lets her take the melody though, and Mariana makes up a harmony. Fran pays attention, memorizing all the notes Mariana sings, so she’ll have them in her brain for later.

 

After they do the whole entire song, Fran feels ready to go inside.  

 

Her heartbeat speeds up going by Lena’s office, but Mari puts an arm protectively around Fran’s shoulder.  She motions for Fran’s pass and Francesca gives it to her.

 

She gapes as Mariana throws it in the trash like it’s nothing.

 

Then they go to choir together.  Mariana sits by Francesca. And Kari, the teacher, doesn’t even yell at Fran for being late, or tell Mariana to take her hat off.  She just smiles and waves at Mariana, and invites her to sing along. 

 

And Mari does.  

 

She’s the best singer in the whole class - including Kari.  But Mariana’s always been the best singer.

 

\--

 

Jesus draws a deep breath before he scrolls through his phone finding Lena’s name and tapping it with more force than necessary.  He knows she keeps her cell phone on her at school, in case of an emergency. 

 

“Jesus.  What do you need?” Lena asks shortly.

 

“That pass you sent Fran was bogus,” Jesus says, not wasting any time in getting to the point.

 

“Jesus…” Lena sighs.  “The pass is so I can apologize to her.”

 

“No, it’s not.  You apologizing to Francesca has nothing to do with you being principal.  It’s an abuse of power, to get her in your office by herself so you can tell her whatever the hell you want, and nobody will stop you or question you,” he challenges.

 

“Jesus, I--” Lena says, short on patience.

 

“Do not bother her today.  I’m not messing around. I told Stef.  I know what went down last night, and I’m as serious as I have ever been.  I’m picking her up today. We have a thing after school.”

 

“Well, we expect her home by 5:00 for dinner.  Mariana, too. You’re welcome to join,” Lena invites stiffly.

 

“We’ll see…” Jesus says cryptically.  “Do I have your word? You’ll leave her alone?”

 

“If that’s what you want,” Lena relents.

 

“It is.” Jesus tells her, shortly.  

 

Without giving her a chance to respond, Jesus hangs up and keeps driving.

 

\--

 

By the end of the school day, Francesca feels like falling asleep.  She has tons of homework and the thought of having to go home to do it makes her feel like crawling in a hole forever.

 

She even forgets about Avoidance after school until she sees Jesus’s car, and Dudley with his head out the window.  

 

Francesca feels a tiny bit happier.

 

But when they get to Avoidance, Francesca squints.  “Hey, no fair! People are at our table!” 

 

“What?” Mariana asks, craning her neck.

 

“Right there!” Fran points.  “I’m gonna go tell them it’s our table,” she says, angry.

 

Francesca expects Jesus to stop her, but he doesn’t.  Just walks with her, and makes sure Mariana has a hand when she needs it.

 

When Francesca gets close enough, she blinks.  Blinks again. She stops walking. Stands still.  She has to really be dreaming.

 

“Hey, Fran,” Pearl greets, like she’s here all the time.

 

Fran’s heart trips in her chest.  “Pearl!” she exclaims, running to her very favorite adult.  And Fran laughs. When she felt like she’d never be able to laugh again, she laughs.  Pearl holds onto her. 

 

Now that she’s up close, Fran can see Dominique is here, too.  Plus Levi.  Plus all their food. Plus frozen hot chocolates.

 

“It’s  _ fran _ -tastic to see you...” Pearl tells her, and Francesca has to believe she’s really here.  

 

It’s totally something Pearl would say.  

 

\--

 

Mariana’s mouth drops open as Levi turns on the picnic bench to face her.  Smiles that smile she rarely saw at the cabin. And says, “Hey,” like no time at all has passed.

 

“What...are you doing here?” Mariana manages.

 

“Thought you might need some backup,” he says, standing up, so she can take a seat.

 

“What?  How? I mean, it’s good to see you...but... _ how _ ?” Mariana asks.

 

“Fran’s plane tickets,” Pearl says, setting them on the table.  “We finally got to use them.”

 

“I was getting ready to yell at you!” Fran insists, rushing to Levi.  “I thought you were other people at our table!”

 

“Not other people, babe.   _ Your  _ people,” Dominique insists with a smile.

 

Levi hugs Fran warmly.  Cups her face between his hands to study her.  “Are you okay?” he asks gently.

 

“Yeah, now I’m really okay,” Fran says, wrapping her arms around his waist.

 

“Is that where you went this morning?” Mariana asks, turning to Jesus, a little indignant.  She reaches out to squeeze Pearl’s hand across the table.

 

He shrugs, sheepish.  

 

“Surprise,” he says, gesturing to them.

 

And as Jesus settles down at the table with the rest of them, everything feels just the way it should.  Finally.

 

All the Avoiders together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part II


	51. When Can I See You Again

“Are you really here?” Fran asks, a huge smile on her face, looking back and forth between Pearl and Levi.  “Because, no offense, but I still think I’m probably just having the  _ best _ dream…”

 

“Not a dream,” Pearl insists.

 

“Have some hot chocolate.  Cold hot chocolate? That kinda cancels each other out, doesn’t it?” Levi asks.  

 

“Frozen hot chocolate,” Mariana tells Levi.

 

“Yeah, like Elsa,” Fran jokes, taking a big drink of her frozen hot chocolate.  She loves it even more now that Pearl and Levi are actually, really here. “But really, I thought I’d probably have to wait like six more years or something to go back to Minnesota.  You know, when I’m eighteen.”

 

She feels energy zipping through her at top speed.  It’s hard to tell if it’s good, happy energy or tons of scared energy that her friends actually came all this way for her, or both…  She shifts on the bench a bunch almost losing her balance and Pearl puts an arm behind her, just like, no big deal.

 

“Got ants in your pants?” Pearl asks, curious.

 

“What?” Fran wonders.  She’s not sure if she should be offended or not.

 

“It’s...ah...actually something our dad used to say.  Whenever I’d get wiggly, he’d ask if there were ants in my pants.  It was his way of noticing that I was having trouble settling down.”

 

“I’m not having trouble with anything,” Fran denies.  “Now everything is, like, the most perfect ever in life.”  She can feel her heart pounding hard inside her, like a marching band drum.  She picks at the sleeve things from Jaimie.

 

“Will you come with me a minute?” Dominique asks.

 

“No, I wanna stay with Pearl and Levi…” Fran whines.  She’s really afraid if she goes right now they’ll just vanish.  Kinda like they just appeared out of nowhere.

 

“We’re gonna be here,” Levi promises.  “We’re staying ‘til next Wednesday. So you can go with Dominique.”

 

Fran thinks about it.  “You’re really staying until next Wednesday?  Like, a whole week and a day?”

 

“We really are,” Pearl promises.  “We won’t go anywhere.”

 

“Okay, just don’t talk about us when we’re not here,” Fran decides, hopping off the bench and walking around to take Dominique’s hand, since she’s offering.

 

“We won’t,” Pearl promises.

 

\--

 

“How are things for you, Mariana?” Pearl asks, concerned, once Fran and Dominique start walking away.

 

“Oh, you know…” Mariana smiles, looking away.  She swallows. Blinking back tears.

 

“Mari…” Levi says sadly.  “You don’t have to be okay for us, you know?” 

 

Mariana shakes her head.

 

“You’re not okay?” Levi guesses.

 

She nods.

 

“Can we help?” Pearl asks, after a pause.

 

Mariana shrugs, helpless.  All last night had been nightmarish dreams of Nick crushing her with his full weight.  Hurting her. Mariana hadn’t been able to move, much less call for help.

 

“I did this…” she finally manages, each word heavy with guilt.

 

“What?” Jesus asks.

 

“Timothy...I...told her.  I told Fran...and then I left her alone there…” Mariana sobs, one hand bracing head, and shielding her face from them.

 

“Mariana…” Jesus says, sad.  “If you knew they were gonna do that, you wouldn’t have left her.  Things have been good. Normal, even, for the most part, since last spring.  That’s why Fran’s guard was down. Yours, too.”

 

“It doesn’t matter!” Mariana exclaims.  “I don’t need this...you.. _.explaining things _ to me!  I’m not an idiot!”

 

“Okay.  I’m sorry,” Jesus apologizes.

 

“Would you guys mind if we played a little Avoidance musical chairs?” Pearl asks.

 

“No, not at all,” Levi says, getting up.  “We could actually walk Cleo...and Dudley.  If you want, Pearl.”

 

At the word  _ walk _ , Dudley’s out from under the picnic table and at Jesus’s side and Cleo is straining in Pearl’s arms, stubby tail wagging.

 

“Sure.  Sounds good.  Thanks,” Pearl says, handing Cleo’s leash off to Levi.

 

Mariana can only tell when they’ve gone by Pearl’s movements.  Suddenly, she’s up and walking around the table. Sitting beside Mari quietly, not saying anything.

 

After what feels like years, Pearl speaks.  “You know, I get the sister guilt…”

 

“Levi?” Mariana asks, glancing up.

 

Pearl nods.  “And you’re right.  There’s nothing anybody can say that will really take that away…  But I do know...that if I  _ had _ known about Levi?  And known he  _ needed _ me?  I’d have been there.”

 

“I keep...remembering…” Mariana ventures after a silence.  She breathes out. It’s long and shaky.

 

“Is this the same thing you were remembering before?  The early memories?” Pearl asks, concerned.

 

“No…” Mariana manages, her voice shaking.  “Other ones. The same, but not.”

 

“The same but not?” Pearl echoes.

 

“The same, like, content.  Different time.” Mariana manages.  “It’s… The accident. I couldn’t remember for the longest time.  Like, what happened that made me, like, go off the rails or whatever?  With the drinking and the partying?”

 

“You’re saying it happened to you in college,” Pearl surmises, looking stunned.  Sad.

 

“Yeah, the whole thing with Fran this time...brought it back, I guess?” Mariana ventures.

 

“So, this has happened...throughout your life...at four and eight, and recently in college, too.”

 

Mariana nods.

 

“This is a personal question and you don’t have to answer it.  I also know I am the very last person to ask, because I’ve certainly done no such thing, but...have you ever gone to see anyone?” Pearl asks.  “Professionally?”

 

“I mean, when Jesus was gone, yeah…” Mariana nods.  “And for a while after…” she gestures to her head. “Stef sat in the whole time.”

 

“I mean, for this…” Pearl specifies gently.

 

“Maybe for six months or a year or something post-adoption?  It wasn’t specifically for that, but it wasn’t  _ not  _ for it either…” Mariana explains.  

 

“Are your moms the reason why you haven’t?  Sought help?” Pearl asks.

 

“I talk to you.  Support group. I’m not doing nothing,” Mariana defends.

 

“And I am not judging.  I phrased that wrong and I am sorry.  I know you’re not in the position to be seeking help, at least not without them knowing,” Pearl apologizes.

 

“I’m still on their insurance, which they never let me forget…” Mariana ventures.

 

“I just hate to see you dealing with this all by yourself,” Pearl tells her.

 

“Well, I’m not.  Right? That’s the whole point.  Why you and Levi came? I mean, I know you came for Fran...but...I don’t know…  Maybe you kinda came for me, too?” Mariana asks in a small voice, not looking at Pearl.

 

“We absolutely came for you, too,” Pearl says, leaving no room for doubt.

 

\--

 

“So, how was coming out here?” Jesus asks Levi as Dudley and Cleo walk obediently beside them.

 

“Early…” Levi laughs.  “But worth it. You know, ‘cause from what Pearl said, things got pretty real with your parents and Fran, and we figured y’all needed us, like ASAP.”

 

“So, you didn’t see it?  Her Polo?” Jesus asks.

 

“No, Pearl said I probably shouldn’t.  Might be triggering. ‘Cause Stef and Lena are like Peanut Butter Cookie.”

 

“Yeah, they are…” Jesus remarks.

 

“Are  _ you _ okay?” Levi checks.  

 

“Not really…between Mariana thinking I think she’s an idiot...which, I don’t, for the record.  And some other stuff? Not really...” Jesus admits. 

 

“Maybe make sure she  _ knows _ you know it?” Levi offers.  “Like, really. She’s getting that from a lot of directions right now...and it’s gotta be hard.”

 

“Levi, I lived four years of my life being told I was nothing but a dumbass every day of it.  I know how hard it is,” Jesus remarks darkly.

 

“But, I mean...you don’t have a brain injury.  That makes what you’re experiencing different. I get that y’all are twins, but….” Levi shrugs.  “Not everything’s exactly the same.”

 

Jesus lets out a breath. “I know, man.  I’m sorry. I’m just...all screwed up.”

 

“You mean, all human?” Levi asks quietly. 

 

Jesus shrugs.  “I guess you could say that.  Tomorrow’s my Escape Day. And the 14th marks my getting back home for the first time.  Ten years…” Jesus breathes. “So that’s on my mind along with all this…and it doesn’t feel right to bring up that I’ve been dreading Wednesday and Thursday.  Even though going home was kinda good. I remember seeing Mariana. I had thought...when I first got away but wasn’t home?”

 

“Yeah?” Levi asks.

 

“I thought maybe she didn’t live with them anymore.  Like, maybe she acted out and got sent away, because she was sad about me being gone.  It was such a relief that she was still there,” Jesus admits.

 

“I felt a little bit like that…” Levi confesses.  “Finding Pearl after losing Dad. It was like him living on in her, a bit.  Like with her saying ‘ants in your pants.’ Such a Dad thing… If you ever need to talk...about Escape Day or Home Day or whatever you call it?  I’m around…”

 

“Thanks, bro,” Jesus nods.

 

\--

 

First things first, Fran really has to go pee.  So Dominique takes her to Gateway in her car and she runs in and uses the one in the lobby because she can’t wait until they get upstairs.

 

When they get back and park, Fran’s ready to go back to Avoidance, but Dominique says it’s okay to take their time.

 

“I wanna go back…” Fran begs.  Her breathing is fast, kind of like this morning.  It’s like ever since last night with Moms? Her body’s been stuck with her “on” switch on high.  She can’t turn it down. At least not by herself.

 

Dominique reaches into her pocket and pulls out a squishy-looking ball with lots of water bead things inside, in different colors.  They sit on the bench at the edge of Avoidance and Dom starts talking, taking lots of pauses. “I want you...to squeeze this...and just think about how it feels in your hand…”

 

“I can’t,” Fran objects, feeling like everything is too overwhelming.  She can’t squeeze a ball. That won’t help.

 

“Can you throw it?” Dominique asks.

 

Fran turns and raises an eyebrow.  “Wait. Seriously?”

 

“Seriously.  Throw it on the sidewalk, as hard as you can in front of us right here.” Dominique directs.

 

Fran focuses all her energy on throwing the ball as hard as she can and she’s totally impressed and surprised when it starts lighting up in flashing red and blue.  She watches the colors for as long as they last. Feeling, finally, a little calmer.

 

She squishes the ball in her hands over and over and over.  It makes a fun sound and it also feels good. Like gel, kind of.

 

While she’s concentrating on squeezing the ball, she can handle Dominique talking her through slowing her fast breathing down.  They practice stretching out one breath - the in and the out - as long as they can.

 

Fran inches closer to Dominique, still squeezing the ball.  “Can I have a hug, please?” she whispers.

 

“Of course you can,” Dominique says, wrapping Fran all up in her arms.

 

Fran whispers in her ear one more time, and Dominique scoots Fran up onto her lap, so Francesca can be almost surrounded by safety.  It’s a good feeling. When Dominique starts rocking and humming, it’s a better feeling.

 

“I’m not being hyper on purpose,” Francesca confesses.  “I just…” she shifts around and Dominique asks if she can squeeze tighter.

 

Francesca nods.  It’s actually the best when Dominique holds on super tight.

 

“I know you’re not being hyper on purpose, babe.  You’re not being hyper at all. Sometimes trauma can make it really hard to calm down again after you get scared.  I could see that. I wanted to help you. I’ll always help you.”

 

“I hate being stuck on high,” Fran pouts, leaning her head against Dominique.

 

“You hate being stuck on high?” Dominique echoes, like she totally feels what a big deal it is.  “Like a blender?”

 

Fran nods.  “I can’t turn the speed down.”

 

“Ah.  Well, I can always help you turn the speed down, okay?  You trust me to help you with that?” Dominique asks.

 

“I like your ball,” Francesca changes the subject.  Away from the fact that, really, she doesn’t feel like she can trust anybody.

 

“Yeah?  It’s a stress ball.  I use it at work sometimes,” Dominique confides.

 

Fran’s still squeezing.  “That’s why it was in your pocket, huh?” 

 

“That’s why,” Dominique confirms.

 

For a while, they just sit together and don’t talk.  Fran just rests against Dominique, squeezing the ball and look at the colors bulging out, looking bigger and smaller.

 

Finally, Francesca sits up.  “I’m ready to go back now. I’m back to regular speed.”

 

“I’m proud of you.  I know that wasn’t easy to step away from Pearl and Levi and get yourself regulated, but you did it.”

 

Fran slides off Dominique’s lap.

 

They’re walking hand in hand back to the picnic table, when Francesca glances up at Dominique:

 

“Why do you say you’re proud of me for every little thing, Dominique?”

 

“Because they’re not little things, Fran.  They’re the most important ones. And when you’re first learning to do them, they’re hard.  So, I want you to know I recognize that,” Dominique explains.

 

“My moms would just say it’s no big deal,” Fran tells her.

 

“Yeah, well, I’m not your moms…” Dominique says in a quiet voice, like she’s trying to stay in control.

 

“I’m happy.  That you’re you and not them,” Fran says, handing the stress ball back to Dominique.

 

\--

 

“Hey…” Jesus says, coming back to Avoidance.  He takes a long time searching Mari’s face. Her eyes.  “I don’t think you’re an idiot.”

 

“Okay…” Mariana says, looking at the grain in the table.  “This is just a lot.”

 

“I get it.  I mean...I guess I don’t really?  But I respect it. And you.” Jesus says.

 

Mariana nods.  “Sorry I’m, like, super sensitive…”

 

“You’re not.  It makes sense.  I mean, it’s trauma.  And I do get that…”

 

“Yeah?” Mariana asks.

 

“Totally,” Jesus reassures.

 

\--

 

“Welcome back,” Pearl says, right when Fran gets back.  Fran sits next to Pearl and Dominique sits on her other side.  Maybe to help Fran stay regulated.

 

On the other side of the table, Jesus and Levi and Mariana sit.  Fran wonders if they’ve all just been sitting here staring at each other waiting for her and Dom to get back.  Of how boring that would be.

 

“Sorry about that, guys.  I’m back. And all the ants are gone,” Fran tells Pearl.

 

“I’m glad you’re calmer,” Levi tells her.  

 

“How was today for you?” Jesus asks.  “Were you okay after this morning?”

 

“I guess,” Fran admits.  She glances at everybody else.  Squeezes Dominique’s hand. “So...this morning?  Lena sent me a pass to go to her office. I felt kinda panicky, but Jesus called her and told her I wasn’t gonna go, and Mariana threw the pass in the garbage.”

 

“I’m glad,” Dominique says.

 

“After that, it was just boring and overwhelming at the same time.  I felt like falling asleep and crying both because I was exhausted and because of how much homework I have.” Fran admits.

 

“What if we could Ideal Situation for you?” Jesus asks.  “Can you tell us, like, Top 3 Things Fran Needs?”

 

“Ooh.  Top 3 Things Fran Needs…  Okay,” Francesca feels herself moving from regular to high speed again.

 

“You need less?” Mariana asks.

 

Fran nods.

 

Mariana gives Jesus a look and nods at him.

 

“So...one thing you need?” he tries.

 

“Safety,” Francesca says.  “Also love. Like obvious love not just ‘You know I love you, so I don’t have to say it’ love.  And also help with my homework. Please.”

 

“We promise to keep you safe, buddy,” Jesus tells her.  You’ll always be with one of us, or Jaimie or Michael. You’re not gonna be at home with Moms.  Neither one of you,” he says, including Mariana in the look.

 

“And we promise to love you in an obvious way,” Dominique says.  “What way feels the most obvious to you?”

 

“Telling me?” Fran asks.  “Spending time with me. And helping me when I need help, not teasing me or telling me to do it myself.  And for safety, not hitting me and not threatening me with jail and not being mad about my CP.”

 

“I promise to keep telling you I love you,” Mariana says.

 

“I love spending time with you,” Pearl says.  “I’ll be happy to do that.”

 

“And I’m always here if you need a hand.  I won’t tease or tell you to do it yourself,” Levi insists.

 

Dominique takes time to look all of the other Avoiders in the eyes and says, “I think I can speak for all of us when I say that none of us will ever hit you, or threaten you with jail or be mad about your CP, babe.”

 

“Um, first thank you.  For all the nice stuff you said.  And not to be rude. I’m just wondering...about thing number three.”

 

“Homework help,” Jesus remembers.  “Well, I’m not the best, but I volunteer my apartment if you need a place to concentrate.

 

“Levi and I are amazing at homework.  Not to brag,” Pearl says.

 

Francesca smiles.  “Okay, but you kinda are. Right now.”

 

“Point taken,” Pearl laughs.

 

“You feeling okay?” Dominique checks.  “More secure?”

 

“I think, yeah.” Fran breathes out slow.  

 

It feels like,  _ finally _ .  Like a relief.  To have all the Avoiders here, listening to what she needs.

 

Francesca feels like the luckiest girl in the world.


	52. How Far I'll Go

Michael’s spent all day pacing.  He can’t even bake.

 

He and Jaimie have talked twice.  She’s at work until this afternoon.  But their conversation never strayed from Francesca.

 

“We’ve gotta do something, babe…” he says.

 

“I think we know exactly what we gotta do…” Jaimie agrees.

 

Even though Michael’s lived on this planet for five decades, there’s still things he hasn’t done.  (Sky-diving. Bull-riding. Reporting his daughter’s friend’s parents for child abuse.)

 

He looks up the Child Abuse Hotline for San Diego County.  Calls it. Speaks to May or Maeve. He’s too nervous to really remember what he says, but he gives the social worker a general idea.

 

When he gets to the part about the video, the social worker is very interested, so Michael texts Francesca to ask if she feels comfortable forwarding it to him.

 

_ Francesca: _

_ No.  Deleted it. _

 

This takes some of the wind out of the social worker’s sails but she still asks that he follow up via email, with a written account of what went down.  

 

He waits for Jaimie.  

 

They write it together:

 

_ To:  _ _ chs-cpscreeners@co.sandiego.ca.us _

_ From:  _ _ michaelrosswilliams@hotmail.com _

 

**_Concerns re: child abuse_ **

 

_ Biological mother: Lena Adams Foster _

_ Adoptive mother: Stefanie Adams Foster _

_ Child: Francesca Adams Foster, 11 (DOB: 4/2/10) _

_ Address: 2330 Villa Mariposa San Diego, CA 92109 _

 

_ To whom it may concern, _

 

_ My name is Michael Williams and I have just spoken to May or Maeve at the San Diego County Child Abuse Hotline.  She instructed me to follow up in writing via this email address. My wife, Jaimie, and I are both contributing to this account.  We wish to remain anonymous. _

 

_ Our daughter is a mentor to Francesca, as well as a friend, so we see Francesca and a couple of her other siblings frequently.  In fact, we’d just seen them about a week previously, to celebrate our daughter’s birthday.  _

 

_ We asked about how things were going at home as we had witnessed firsthand Francesca’s mothers belittling her months ago.  Jaimie has witnessed (on the same occasion) Francesca’s adoptive mother grab her by the arm, in an attempt to get her to leave.  Francesca’s reaction was quite intense. She pulled away and screamed, “ _ I said no _!”  She appeared terrified.  A week ago, when asked how things were at home, Francesca said they were “normal,” and did not seem particularly distressed. _

 

_ However, last night, my daughter called to say Francesca’s sibling was picking her up from home.  That it was urgent. Could they stop here? We said of course they could. _

 

_ When Francesca arrived, she sat at the table and did not move or speak.  Her sibling alerted us that Francesca had filmed the interaction with her Moms (a video that Francesca has since deleted.)  Jaimie and I both watched. Things began to take a turn from mundane to concerning when one of Francesca’s school papers was shown to her.  Her moms demanded to know why she wrote her name “like this.” (Francesca recently found out who her biological father is, and has been, apparently, writing her biological last name on her school papers, and erasing it before she hands them in.) _

 

_ The exchange grew heated as her moms appeared to take Francesca writing her biological name as a personal affront.  They raised their voices. Francesca cried. And when Francesca, frustrated, raised her own voice, her biological mother slapped Francesca in the face.  At that point, the adoptive mom got a call and Francesca was able to leave the table, find her sibling and come to us. _

 

_ Francesca was very withdrawn at our house and seemed to be using all of her energy to keep herself together.  She didn’t speak much at first, but eventually, when I (Michael) assured her she had done nothing wrong, she insisted she had, and became very upset.  Later, her moms called her on Francesca’s cell phone and Francesca became visibly scared again. At the prospect of going home, she broke into tears. She and her siblings stayed the night at our house and Francesca went to school this morning. _

 

_ Jaimie and I are very concerned as this abuse appears to be escalating. _

 

_ Please let us know if you need more information, _

_ Michael and Jaimie Williams _

 

\--

 

Thankfully, Jaimie’s there to encourage Michael to stop rereading the email and press send.  A (maybe) automated response comes a minute later:

 

_ Thank you.  This will be reviewed. _

 

Michael breathes out.  It feels like his first real breath all day.

 

“Well, it’s out.  You think it was the right call?” Michael asks, nervous.

 

“I know it was,” Jaimie assures.  “But I don’t know how I feel about leaving out her self harming.”

 

“This is about Stef and Lena, and their wrongs, babe.  Francesca’s not on trial here,” Michael comments.

 

“Michael, I know.  But her pinching herself like that?  That was her communicating her distress.  Her trying to cope. And as wrong as I feel about outing it to a bunch of CPS workers, I also don’t feel entirely right not including it at all,” Jaimie admits.

 

“You really think it’s gonna make a damn bit of difference one way or another, babe?” Michael asks ruefully.  “You know they saw the name Stefanie Adams Foster and knew. Bam. Cop. Francesca’s mother is a  _ white cop _ , with friends on the force.  How likely is it for them to take this seriously, especially since there were no marks on her face?  No video?”

 

“I know, babe, but we have to try,” Jaimie says, wrapping her arms around Michael.  “We don’t just look the other way on stuff like this. We gotta do our part.”

 

“I know.  You’re right.” Michael sighs, kissing her.  

 

Jaimie leans into him.

 

\--

 

Mariana arrives at Dominique’s with Dom and Pearl, and Pearl is instantly in love.

 

“Ohhhh... hello, beautiful,” Pearl whispers, spotting Roberta walking toward them.

 

Roberta eyes Pearl, her tail swishes back and forth slightly, as if she cannot hate Pearl on sight, even though she has a dog with her.  The cat knows a compliment when she hears one.

 

Pearl gives Roberta a wide enough berth to get used to her and Cleo in her own time.  They’ve just about all settled in when Mariana’s phone rings.

 

“Who is that?” Dom asks.

 

“Lena,” Mariana scowls.  “She’s been calling me...all afternoon, basically, but I had my phone turned down…”

 

“Turn it down again,” Dominique insists, annoyed.

 

“What’s she want?” Pearl asks.

 

“To make sure I still ‘remember I have rehab.’  God, like I can ever forget. ...Like I ever wanna go back after what happened to Fran…” Mariana mutters under her breath.

 

“That didn’t happen because you were at rehab, it happened ‘cause your Moms are assholes…” Dominique points out.

 

“Yeah, but when I’m at home, I can...reflect...or...you know...get their attention on me.  So they leave her alone.”

 

“Ah, redirect,” Pearl nods.  “I wish I had that option growing up…  Seriously, though, if you want to go (or need to, as the case may be), Levi and I are here.  Jesus and Dominique are here. We can all take care of Fran until you’re done. And then one of us can definitely come and get you.”

 

“Can one of you stay?  You know? There, with me?  I hate being there by myself.  Tomas...he’s…”

 

“Another asshole?” Dominique offers, not even trying to hold back.  “Doesn’t bother me, as long as I’m not, like, alone with him.”

 

“I always am…” Mariana grimaces.  “Why I want backup.”

 

“You got backup,” Dominique nods.  “So, when do you have to go? Now?”

 

“It’s kinda early…” Mariana debates.

 

“Yeah, but we could grab some food.” Dominique offers.

 

“True, I guess.” Mariana turns to Pearl.  “Call if anything comes up, please?”

 

“Yeah, we will,” Pearl promises.  “I was hoping to be part of Team Homework.”

 

“See you later…”

 

\--

 

Pearl knocks on Jesus’s door after waving goodbye to Mariana and Dominique as they get on the elevator.

 

He pulls it open, distracted, talking on Fran’s phone in its green case.  “Mariana’s fine. No, you don’t need to check on her.”

 

Pearl jerks a thumb to the window.  

 

“She left already, so that’s probably why she’s not answering you.  Listen, I gotta go.” 

 

Pearl joins Levi and Francesca at the table.  Fran is looking at Jesus nervously. Her homework in front of her, untouched.

 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Pearl reassures.

 

“Is Mariana in trouble?” Fran asks.

 

“Mariana just left with Dominique. They’re getting some dinner and then going to the gym and then they’re coming right back here,” Pearl reassures.

 

“Yeah, but is she  _ in trouble _ ,” Fran persists.  “You know, with Moms?”

 

“They want Mari to be at home with them so they can be sure they know she’s doing her rehab.  But I told them, she’s an adult. She can make her own choices.”

 

“And then they probably said a bunch of stuff about how she’s not really because of the accident.  Is that true?” Fran asks.

 

“Is what true?” Jesus wonders, pulling up the remaining chair and turning it around.

 

“Does getting a brain injury make you, like...I don’t know how to say it in a no offense way…” Fran worries.

 

“You’re wondering if getting a brain injury as an adult somehow makes you  _ not  _ an adult anymore?” Levi wonders.

 

“Pretty much,” Fran nods.  “Stef said I have to be the big sister, because Mari needs extra watching and support.  But it didn’t feel right when she said it, and Mariana didn’t like it when she knew.”

 

“Sometimes, we all need things clarified at different times, right?  Because of trauma or disability?” Jesus asks. “That doesn’t mean we lose our place in our families or we aren’t our actual ages.  Mariana’s still 23 like I am.”

 

“That’s weird.  Because she’s a lot shorter than you,” Francesca points out.

 

“True.  But just remember how much you hate being treated like a baby?”

 

Fran wrinkles her nose.  “I do hate that a lot.”

 

“So does Mariana.  We can clarify stuff for her if she needs us to, but in a respectful way,” Jesus tells Fran.

 

“Can we have food?” Fran asks.  “Cause I need to do all this homework, and I can’t concentrate without food.  Maybe McDonald’s?”

 

Jesus asks Levi if he minds driving thru with Fran and picking up some food from there for them.  Jesus is not a huge fan of fast food, but it’s become doable over the years as long as he’s not in vehicle while it’s being ordered.

 

When Levi and Fran leave, Jesus sits.  “You, ah… Would you mind getting rid of any napkins Levi brings back?  I forgot to mention it. And it’s a thing.”

 

“Sure.” Pearl nods.


	53. Flares

“So, how many chicken nuggets do you think we’ll need?” Levi asks.

 

“Probably like 40…” Fran guesses.

 

“You think?” Levi wonders, amused.  

 

“Yeah, Jesus eats a lot.  Can we get fries, too? And can I get a Mountain Dew?” Fran asks.

 

“What would Jesus and Mariana say?” Levi asks.

 

“Probably not the best idea…” Fran admits sadly.  “But I  _ love _ Mountain Dew.”

 

“I get it.  I mean, I  _ super-love  _ hot Cheetos.  But too many of those?  And it’s bad news…”

 

“For your stomach?” Fran checks, wincing.

 

“Yeah,” Levi confirms.  He pulls up and orders two 20-packs of chicken nuggets plus two large French fries.  No Mountain Dew. Francesca takes the bag and fishes out the million napkins every McDonald’s person thinks they need.

 

“Did they forget something?  Did they forget the barbecue sauce?” Levi asks, in a funny voice.

 

“No, we got barbecue, sweet-n-sour, honey mustard...I’m just getting out all the napkins.  Jesus doesn’t like them.” 

 

“Here,” Levi offers his hand and takes the wad of paper from her hands, tucks it between his knees as he drives.  “I can toss these in the garbage outside before we head back in, how’s that?”

 

“Good.  Hey, Levi?  Do you think I’m bad?” Fran asks.  It’s so sudden, Levi almost doesn’t know what to say.

 

“Like, at something in particular?” he asks, buying time to get his thoughts in order.

 

“No, just bad.  Like, a bad person?” Fran asks again.

 

“I don’t think you’re a bad person.” Levi tells her honestly.

 

“But did you even watch the video?” Fran insists.  “Did you see what I said to Moms? What I did?”

 

“I didn’t see, no…” Levi admits.

 

“If you saw it, you’d change your mind, I bet…” Fran says softly.  “You’d think I was bad.” There’s a pause and then Fran asks, “Did you see Lena hit me?”

 

“I heard that she did,” Levi says sadly.  “And no matter what you did? No adult has the right to hit you.”

 

“If she’s your mom, she does,” Fran objects lightly.

 

“No, if she’s your mom, she doesn’t, Francesca.  Trust me. I have a mom, too, and I did a lot of bad things as a kid.  She never hit me. Not once. My dad, either.” Levi explains.

 

“So, what’s your point?” Fran asks, distant now.  “You have nice parents, and I don’t? I already knew that.”

 

“My point is, you’re not a bad person,” Levi repeats.  “You’re a good person.”

 

“If you say so,” Fran sighs, like she’s bored, but really, Levi suspects, she’s trying to get some distance from the idea that she could actually be good.  Because if she admits that, then she has to grapple with why the hell her moms treat her like they do. And even though she already has an idea, no eleven year old wants to face that.  No eleven year old is truly ready to face it.

 

He throws away the napkins, as promised, and they walk inside together.

 

\--

 

Francesca’s trying her super hardest not to give up on math but it’s like another language with numbers instead of letters.  Problems instead of plain words. She flips to the back where she knows there is answers to all the odd-numbered problems, because Craig told them.

 

(He also told them that if he catches onto a student getting only the odd ones right without showing their work on those problems?  They’ll get a zero.)

 

The chicken nuggets and fries and sweet-n-sour were good.  They would’ve been better with Mountain Dew, but Francesca had milk and survived.

 

Pearl’s trying to explain math to her, but the old-fashioned way.  Fran doesn’t even know the way Craig and all the math teachers do it now, but Levi does, so he takes over.

 

It does kinda help to hear Levi explain stuff and not have to look at it at the same time.

 

Still, she’s bored. Fran’s been doing homework for two hours.  “Hey, Jesus? Guess what? There’s free math in the back of my math book _ and _ my notebook for math, too.  Oh, my gosh, I didn’t know. This is so good, you know, in case we have questions.”

 

“Very cool.  Can you try to tune into what Levi’s saying now?” Jesus asks.

 

“No offense...but no,” Fran says flatly.  

 

Levi laughs.  (She’s glad he’s taking it as a joke.)

 

“You know how I always say no offense?  It’s because I think, like, people get mad and make fences between them, and I don’t want that to happen to us.” Fran shares, doodling in her notebook.

 

“We could take a break?” Levi offers, seeing Fran’s trouble focusing.

 

“Yay!” Fran leaps from her chair and goes to sit next to Jesus on the couch.  He’s Googling something. Dudley’s lying by Jesus’s feet, watching Cleo. Cleo is ignoring Dudley.  Pearl goes back to the table to talk to Levi, taking Cleo with.

 

“Whatcha Googling?” Fran asks, scooting closer.

 

“Offense,” Jesus tells her.  “See?” He shows her his phone.  “It’s spelled like this. And it means to offend someone.  To hurt their feelings. Doesn’t have anything to do with fences, but that was a great guess,” Jesus tells her.

 

Francesca leans away from him and crosses her arms.  Then uncrosses them and starts pulling at one of the sleeve things.

 

“Hey.  Buddy. No, okay?  Don’t do that. You’re not at home.  You’re not with Moms. There’s no reason to.”

 

Francesca turns away from him, and just like that Pearl’s running back over, saying in a funny voice, “Emergency, emergency,” and hurrying to plop Cleo in Fran’s lap.  “Gotta keep growing that coping muscle, right? So, Cleo really could use some cuddling right now. You think you could help her out?”

 

Even though Fran really wants to stay mad, she can’t because Cleo has the cutest face.  And when Jesus moves to go talk to Levi at the table and Pearl sits down in his place, Francesca relaxes even more.

 

“Wanna tell me what happened there?” Pearl asks, when Fran and Cleo are touching noses and Cleo is licking her with really small licks.

 

Francesca glances at Jesus and shakes her head.

 

“What about if we took Cleo on a walk outside?  I bet she has to go out,” Pearl encourages.

 

Fran agrees, and once they’re outside walking she feels a little better.  But she can’t really talk about this and walk at the same time. But it’s okay because Pearl waits until they find the picnic table on the back patio outside the apartment and sit because no one else is there.

 

“I deleted the video,” Francesca says softly.  “Did you know you could do that?”

 

“No, I didn’t.  Why did you delete it?” Pearl wonders, not judging, only curious.

 

“Michael asked about it.  Dominique’s dad. I just got scared and did it.  I don’t know why.”

 

“When was this?” Pearl asks.

 

“Earlier.  Like, at school,” Fran confesses.  (Cleo is walking around on the table being really cute.)

 

“Ah,” Pearl says.  And that’s all. She just waits.

 

“Jesus looked up the word when I said it…” Fran admits in a small voice.

 

“Yeah?  What word was that?” Pearl asks.

 

Fran shakes her head.  Tears come to her eyes.  She feels the strong feeling of bad coping come through her.  To make the tears get back inside, but Cleo’s there looking at her like, ‘ _ Francesca, why aren’t you petting me _ ?’ so she does.

 

“Offense…” Fran finally mutters, super softly.  “You know how I always say ‘no offense?’”

 

“I do,” Pearl smiles.

 

“Well, did you hear when I said what I thought it meant?” Fran asks, wary.

 

“I did,” Pearl says, more serious this time.

 

“Jesus Googled it just to show me I was wrong.  To show me I was stupid,” Francesca blinks back angry tears.  “It’s exactly what Moms do when I make a mistake… They correct me, and laugh all about it…”

 

“It sounds like what Jesus did was accidentally trigger you.  Because Avoiders don’t hurt each other on purpose. He wasn’t laughing at you.”

 

“You’re taking his side…” Francesca says, hurt.

 

Pearl takes a deep breath.  “I’m sorry. I know it hurts a lot when your moms laugh at you…”

 

“Did your mom do it to you?” Francesca asks.

 

“She used to tell me I had no common sense,” Pearl winces.

 

“My brother said that to me.  Brandon, not Jesus.” Francesca remembers.

 

“It hurts to be made fun of, especially by people who are supposed to love you,” Pearl says.  “Jesus  _ does _ love you,” she adds after a pause.  “What he did? It reminded you of your moms making fun of you, and brought back all of those feelings…”

 

“If he loves me for real, then why would he say that?” Francesca asks, hurt.  “Say he’s Googling a thing I said just to tell me it’s wrong, so I’d feel stupid?”

 

“That would be a good question to ask him.” Pearl says.

 

Behind them, the door opens, but no one steps out.  “Fran? Can I join you?” Jesus wonders.

 

Fran buries her face in her arms.  “Fine,” she answers, like she’s the maddest ever, which she is, but with tears.

 

She hears Jesus walking out on the patio thing.  Sitting down at the picnic table, too. It’s so not the same as Avoidance.

 

“Pearl, you ask him…” Fran insists, her face still buried.

 

“Francesca’s wondering...if you love her for real, why would you Google something she said just to tell her it’s wrong, so she would feel stupid?”

 

“That’s not why I did it,” Jesus says, and Fran is so angry, she sits up, tears running down her cheeks, feeling like he’s lying right to her face right now.

 

“Yes, it is!  It’s why Moms do it!  It’s why  _ everyone _ does it!” Fran screams.

 

“I Google things to see what they mean,” Pearl offers matter of factly. 

 

“I’m not Moms, Francesca,” Jesus objects softly.

 

“Then why did you do it?” Fran demands, still mad.  Cleo’s back in Pearl’s arms now, scared of the noise.

 

“Because I was curious!”  Jesus sounds desperate and sad mixe d together.  “Okay? I was curious!  When you said that, I wondered about it, too and I wanted to share what I learned with you.  I wanted you to feel the opposite of stupid.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know?” Francesca sobs.  “You never said that…”

“I know.  Come here, buddy.  Can I hug you?” Jesus asks.

Fran nods and he gathers her up in his arms.  

“I promise, I’ll explain better next time, okay?  I know how it feels to be called dumb. And I never wanna make you feel that way, okay?  Not even by accident.” Jesus insists, hugging her.

There’s snot and tears all over the shoulder of Jesus’s shirt, but he doesn’t mind.  “Okay…” she manages. “You promise you’re not doing it to tease me?” 

“Definitely.  I would never.  I know how it feels,” Jesus insists.

Fran pulls back and looks at Jesus.  Wipes her eyes. “I forgive you, then.”

“I know it’s been a lot for you this last day or so...and things might come up like this.  Where something feels intentional - like it was done on purpose - when it wasn’t. But we’ll work through it together.  You don’t have to hurt yourself.”

“I can’t help it.  I’m sorry.” Francesca apologizes.

“I know.  And I know it can take a long time to unlearn.  But we all have your back. In fact, I think...Mari and Dominique are back now.  So, I know math isn’t your favorite, but what do you say we get back at it?”

“I guess,” Fran sighs.

She still hates math, but at least the Avoiders are all still her friends.


	54. Safe in the Arms of Love

Lucky for Francesca, Pearl is really good at helping her focus, so she can get her math homework done.  Because after that, the greatest thing happens.

 

“I know it might be a little late in the day, but is anybody up for Feelings Time, California Style?” Jesus asks.

 

“Oh!  Me!” Fran exclaims, waving her hand around.  “Can I please go over to Dominique’s and ask if she and Mari want to come?”

 

“Sure,” Jesus says.  

 

Fran can barely hear Pearl asking Jesus what makes California Style Feelings Time different from regular, but she knocks on Dominique’s door before she can hear Jesus’s answer.

 

“Hey, it’s Fran!  Do you wanna come over to Jesus’s and have Feelings Time?” she calls.

 

In a few seconds, Mari and Dominique are walking with Francesca back across the hall.  In Jesus’s apartment again, he’s getting out the snacks. Chocolate chip cookies, and coffee is brewing.  Milk for Fran, even though she really does want to try coffee, it’s probably not the best idea at 7:00 on a school night.

 

Francesca takes a seat around Jesus’s small table, right next to Dominique.  She can’t forget the way Dominique helped her get calm this afternoon. How it helped.

 

Once everybody has food, Pearl asks, “Anybody wanna share a feeling?  Mariana? I don’t mean to put you on the spot, but if it still helps to go first…”

 

“Yeah, it does…  I guess...sucky?”  Mariana offers.

 

Francesca almost laughs but doesn’t because Mariana looks so sad.  

 

“What’s sucky?” Pearl asks.

 

“Life,” Mariana says.  “Moms, rehab...me…”

 

“Mariana, no you’re not,” Fran insists.  “You’re not sucky.”

 

“Okay but that’s how I feel.  What happened to you, with Moms?  I feel like a lot of that...was my fault.”

 

“Okay, but I’m gonna do a math problem about this because I just did a lot of them.  So, what they did is 100% their fault. So there’s no percent left to be anybody else’s fault…” Fran says.

 

“I know they did the things...but I could’ve been there.  I could’ve protected you. Distracted them. Something…” Mariana manages.

 

“I’m glad you weren’t there,” Fran admits.  “They’re mean to you when you are.”

 

Pearl takes a turn next.  “I think it makes sense that you’re feeling sucky, though, Mariana.  What happened to Fran was a sucky thing.”

 

“It doesn’t hurt,” Francesca volunteers.

 

“Babe?  Hey, Fran?” Dominique says softly, offering her a stress ball under the table.  This one has little knobby things on it. “You don’t have to smooth things over right now.  So, the Magic Carpet can just chill out and listen. He doesn’t have to cover anything up.”

 

“I feel bad that I made everybody feel bad…” Fran admits.

 

“You’re not the one that makes us feel bad, Francesca.  Your moms hurting you makes us feel bad. ‘Cause we care about you, a lot, and we never want you to get hurt…” Levi offers.

 

“I know that, but still…” Fran objects, squeezing the ball to death under the table.

 

“Can we slow down just a little bit?” Dominique asks.

 

“Yeah, please,” Mariana echoes.

 

“But seeing me makes you remember it and then you feel bad because you remember it!” Francesca points out, her voice getting louder.  She has to not do this. This is the whole point of what happened yesterday. If she never yelled back, Lena maybe never would’ve slapped her.

 

“It’s cool if you need a break, Fran,” Jesus offers.  “You can go in the spare room. Close the door if you need privacy.”

 

But everyone knows the apartment is so small that you can basically hear everything even if the doors are closed.  It makes her remember Jesus and Mari’s party. How Stef said that Mariana was drinking and driving and then everyone knew.

 

There’s almost no higher level for her “on” switch to go.

 

She turns wide eyes to Dominique.

 

Dominique whispers in Fran’s ear, “Need to go to my place for a minute instead?  More privacy?”

 

Fran nods.

 

“We’ll be right back.  Just going to my place,” Dominique reassures.

 

Francesca crosses her arms and walks by herself without Dominique helping her at all.  She doesn’t need help anyway.

 

\--

 

“You need to talk anymore, Mari?” Jesus asks, when Fran and Dom are gone.

 

“That’s what I was afraid of…” she ventures softly.

 

“What?” Levi wonders.

 

“Fran.  She takes everything personally, because Moms make everything about us.  Even if it’s not. So now she’s gonna blame herself and it’s not her fault.”

 

“But you still have a right to your feelings,” Pearl points out.

 

“And I can’t talk...about everything...in front of her…” Mariana manages, looking at Pearl, then at Levi.

 

“What do you mean?” Jesus asks.

 

“You know...we had that fight when I asked you...if you remembered when we were little.  With Ana?”

 

“Yeah,” Jesus nods.

 

“It’s still hard for me that we fought.  That you thought I was being...whatever…” Mariana admits.

 

“Can I tell you about what I was feeling?” Jesus asks.  “‘Cause it wasn’t that you were ridiculous.” 

 

Mariana glances up, surprised that Jesus remembers the word she used when it was nowhere around just now.  She nods.

 

“You were acting...weird.  It’s not a brain comment, I swear!”  Jesus insists, seeing Mariana’s eyes darken.  “It’s… It was like...you didn’t have any boundaries, or like you were blank or something?  Like, you were really triggered. And kinda like now? Seeing you triggered kinda triggered me…  Instead of admitting that, I picked a fight, and I’m sorry.”

 

“So, I’m triggering everyone…” Mariana sighs.

 

“You’re not triggering anyone now,” Levi points out.  “If you wanted to talk more, we wanna listen… No pressure…”

 

“Can’t say it…” Mariana admits, in a whisper.  “If you don’t remember it, how can I tell you? You’re already sad.  It’s almost your trauma days.”

 

“But keeping it in is hurting you, isn’t it?” Jesus asks, tentative.

 

Mariana shrugs.

 

Pearl, Levi and Jesus are all silent for a long time.  Eventually, Mariana takes a breath. “Okay...so remember when we lived with Ana...the last time?”

 

Jesus nods.  “When we were, like seven?” he asks.

 

Mariana nods.

 

“Vaguely.”

 

“Okay, so do you remember why we got taken away from there that time?” Mariana asks.

 

Jesus’s eyes darken with old pain.  He swallows. “Yes.”

 

“Well...that...happened to me before we left Ana the first time...and in college, too…” Mariana admits.

 

“Wait.  Is that…?  Is that what happened?  Is that why you were partying so much right before your accident?” Jesus wonders, finally putting the pieces together.

 

Mariana looks away.  “I’m sorry.”

 

“No.  God, Mari.  You don’t have anything to be sorry for.  We should’ve seen. I should’ve helped.” Jesus insists.

 

“According to Moms I did this to myself.  And I did this to Fran...got her hit..because I found Timothy for her...I got her hurt.  By not protecting her.” Mariana admits. “It’s my fault...I don’t...try hard enough. If I tried harder, I’d do better, and maybe...I’d recover…” Mariana isn’t sure when she started crying.  But her words are coming between sobs now.

 

Pearl’s around the table and putting her arms around Mariana and just holds her while she sobs.  “That’s so much to carry,” Pearl offers sympathetic. “Way, way too much for one person.”

 

Mariana can’t keep it in, even though she wants to.  More than anything.

 

Levi and Jesus don’t say anything, but they don’t turn away either.  They stay. They’re here.

 

And in some deep part of Mariana she knows.  It matters.

 

\--

 

Fran doesn’t know what to even do.  

 

When Dominique offers her the stress ball with the lights inside, Fran keeps her arms crossed.  Screams “No!” 

 

(Because she doesn’t need any help!  Balls don’t help! Balls are stupid! Just like Francesca is!)

 

And when Dominique comes toward her without the ball, Francesca can’t help it.  She flinches. Ready for the slap. Her whole body tense - but especially her CP side.

 

Dominique’s talking to Francesca right now, but it’s like the teacher in the old-fashioned Charlie Brown cartoons.  Where she just sounds like she’s saying muffled sounds and no actual words.

 

Standing still isn’t working, and Righty is starting to get weak.  Fran loses her balance and catches herself on Dominique - who has pulled up a chair right in front of Fran - and is just waiting.

 

It’s like, the minute Fran touches Dominique, the faucet for her tears gets turned on.  Fran’s eyes are leaking tears like they’ll never stop. She kind of collapses against Dominique, and Dominique hugs her and scoops Fran onto her lap to hold.  Just like this afternoon, there’s more embarrassing crying all over Dom.

 

“I’m sorry!” Fran manages, between big gasps of tears.  It’s so loud but that’s what happens on high.... She can’t help it.

 

Dominique holds her and rocks her and sings her the song from  _ Zootopia _ .  The one that Fran never even knew Dom knew.

 

It does help her feel a little better.

 

After a million years of crying, Fran’s just gasping here and there.  “I’m sorry…” she says, way softer. “That I yelled.”

 

“You didn’t mean to yell, though.  I could tell,” Dominique reassures.  “I knew you weren’t yelling to be disrespectful.”

 

“How?” Fran asks, confused.

 

“Well...it sounded to me like you were pretty afraid…” Dominique explains.

 

“Yes,” Fran nods.  “Because the yelling…  It just bursts out, and the last time I did that?  Mama hit me. So I thought, I better not do it again or I’ll get hit again…”

 

“Right.  Sounded like you got triggered - scared - about Mariana having feelings about what happened to you.  And when you get scared, it makes you yell. And the last time you yelled, you were hurt…” Dominique reviews slowly.

 

“Yup,” Fran sighs, leaning against Dominique’s shoulder.  It’s hot and sweaty there from Fran’s tears and all her energy.  But Dominique still has the most comfortable shoulder.

 

“You feel like you’re calm enough to listen?” Dominique checks.

 

Fran nods.

 

“Can you look and listen, or just listen?” Dominique asks again.

 

“Just listen.  Remember? You said one time I’m an auditory learner…” Fran points out.

 

“That’s right.” Fran can hear Dominique smiling.  “So...I want you to use your awesome auditory learning skills...to take in what I’m about to tell you.”

 

Fran nods.

 

“If you yell...around me...or the other Avoiders...we know what that means.  We know it means your trauma’s up. That you’re feeling scared. We will never hit you.”

 

“Never?” Fran asks, in a tiny voice.

 

“Never, ever, ever, in a million years,” Dominique promises.

 

“What if it’s not trauma and I’m just being sassy?” Fran asks, finally looking at Dominique.  

 

“No matter what you do...I will not hit you.  Not ever. If you have an attitude for attitude’s sake, I’ll talk to you about it.  But I also know that when people act in certain ways it means something. Like, could mean you’re hungry.  Or you’re embarrassed.”

 

“Or I just wanna be okay being me.  Writing my name however I want. Because it feels right to me.  I don’t want my choices to mean other people take them personally.  And then I get hurt.”

 

“Even though Mariana was hurt by what happened to you, she’s not going to hurt you for it,” Dominique explains.  “And that makes a lot of sense. You should absolutely get to be you, and write down whatever name feels right to you, without feeling afraid of being hurt.”

 

“Do you know what that’s like?” Fran asks, glancing at Dominique briefly.

 

“I know...probably too much...about what that’s like, yeah.” Dominique admits, squeezing Francesca gently.

 

“That’s how come you understand me?” Fran wonders.

 

“That’s it,” Dominique nods.

 

“Sorry you have to keep taking breaks because of me,” Fran apologizes.

 

“Babe, I’ll always take a break with you if you need it.  I like breaks. Because it’s an opportunity for me to keep you safe.”

 

“And it’s not too annoying?  That I’m getting stuck on high this much?” Fran asks.

 

“You’re never too annoying, babe.  Your trauma’s not annoying either. It’s a thing all of us deal with.  We understand.” Dominique reassures her.

 

“I don’t like it,” Fran insists, quiet.  “It makes me feel too much.”

 

“Oh, I know that feeling,” Dominique smiles.  It’s a smile like she’s felt too much from her trauma for a long time.

 

“Yeah,” Fran sighs.  “You probably know all the feelings, right?”

 

“Probably,” Dominique laughs a little, gently, and holds Francesca tighter.


	55. Bent

Francesca feels selfish not going back to hang out with Pearl and Levi and having Feelings Time: California Style, but it’s too hard to keep herself calm right now.  It’s like something’s wrong with her. Deep down. Like something broke, or bent slowly when Stef threatened her back last spring...and again now. Last night.

 

It feels like forever ago, really.  That night. It feels like no big deal, because stuff like that happened before, honestly.  It’s just, no one saw. Or it was Mariana being hit, and Mariana was just as stuck as Fran.

 

“What’s up?” Dominique asks quietly.  “You still here with me?”

 

“Selfish…” Fran mutters.

 

“No,” Dominique says back, calm.  “Not selfish. We’re taking care of your basic needs right now.”

 

“But Pearl and Levi came all this way, and I’m not even talking to them.  It’s so rude…” Fran objects.

 

“Francesca,” Dominique says. “It is not rude. They understand.  We all have trauma. We all get it. Sometimes we’ve all had to leave the table during Feelings Time to regulate.  It’s normal. Healthy. Not rude.”

 

Sighing, Francesca settles against Dominique.  “I have way too many feelings. I still feel stuck on high.”

 

“What would help?” Dominique asks.  

 

“Could you maybe rock me more?  You know, if it’s not too babyish?” Fran asks seriously.

 

“Not at all.  You wanna go in the costume room?  Sit in that chair with me and rock?”

 

Fran nods.  She gets down out of Dom’s lap and trips, like, three times on her way into the costume room.

 

“So clumsy… Way to go, Francesca…” Fran mutters darkly to herself.

 

“Positive words, babe.  We can tell Righty he’s got this, right?” Dominique asks.

 

Fran’s face flushes.  (He doesn’t got it. That’s the whole point.)

 

They get to the chair and feeling Dom give her a boost into it reminds Francesca of the very first time she came over here.  

 

“Do you remember the very first night we met?  The first time I ever came over?” Fran remembers, getting cozy under a blanket, just like then.

 

“I do.  One of my favorite memories.” Dominique confesses, rocking them both in the chair.

 

“I couldn’t find Jesus, and I was scared down in the lobby by myself.  Moms had already left, and I remembered Jesus said if I ever couldn’t find him to call you. He said you were his friend.  I could trust you. Stay with you. That’s still true, huh?” she asks, craning around in the chair to study Dominique’s face.

 

“It is,” Dominique nods.

 

Roberta jumps up in the chair on Fran’s lap, and it helps Fran to start calming down just to pet her.  When she purrs it helps even more, because it’s like, her happy vibrations.

 

“This is when it was happening…” Fran offers quietly.  “When all of it was happening. We ate dinner, and then they yelled at me and all that happened and then I came to your mom and dad’s house, and I felt like I couldn’t talk.”

 

“I remember,” Dominique confirms.

 

“I hate that I’m making Mari feel bad that I was dumb and got hurt…” Fran admits.

 

“Let’s break that down.  Should we?” Dominique asks.  “Pretend it’s a spelling word?”

 

Fran turns, questions on her face.  “I don’t get it.”

 

“You started out by saying ‘I hate…’ right?”

 

“Yes,” Fran nods.  “‘Cause I do.”

 

“So...let’s try to slow down a little bit more...should we?  Focus on the rocking. On petting Roberta. Listen to my voice with your awesome auditory learning ears.”

 

Fran smiles a little and settles back against Dominique.  “Okay.”

 

“Okay,” Dominique echoes.  “You were talking about last night.  What do you hate?”

 

Fran mimes locking her lips with a key and throwing the key over her shoulder.

 

“Is it private?” Dominique wonders.

 

“I still don’t know about that word…” Fran admits.  “And it’s like...remember last night when I couldn’t talk, because I needed some ugly baby Mandrake draught?”

 

“Your lips are sealed because you’re scared to talk?” Dominique guesses.

 

Fran nods.

 

“Which word don’t you know about?” Dominique wonders.

 

“Private?” Fran asks.

 

“Did you have a specific question about privacy?” Dominique wonders.

 

“Just…” Fran thinks about it.  Now, it seems kind of silly. She might as well just ask, since Dominique knows about the kinds of stuff that happens at home anyway now.  The stuff Moms say is family stuff. “It’s kind of pointless now.”

 

“If you still want an answer, I’d like to try and help,” Dominique offers.

 

“Can adults, like, claim privacy over stuff they do to kids?  To like, make the kid not talk about it?” Fran asks.

 

“You mean, like, Lena hitting you?” Dominique asks, soft.

 

“They always make sure to tell us after not to talk about it…” Fran ventures.  “Say it’s private.”

 

“That’s called manipulation.  Safe adults don’t do that. If you’re hurt - even by me - like...say I hurt your feelings by accident?”

 

Fran turns to look at Dominique again.

 

“I’d want you to talk about it.” Dominique insists.

 

“Just to you, though, right?  Not to anybody else. And only if you bring it up?” Fran asks.

 

“No.  I’d want you to talk about it with whoever you could talk about it with.  Other Avoiders. My parents. You could definitely talk to me about it, too.  Anytime. Not just when I bring it up,” Dominique reassures. “Because it’s your right to be able to discuss what happens to you freely.”

 

“That’s confusing,” Francesca admits.  “They want us to be quiet and not talk about it.  Do you think that’s right?”

 

“I don’t.” Dominique says.

 

“You were saying about when I said ‘I hate…’” Fran reminds.

 

“Right.  So, I really truly understand blaming yourself when something scary happens.  Okay? I do. I just want you to know...that I realize that you didn’t do the wrong thing last night.  Your moms did. So it’d be okay if you wanted to explore other things you hate. Because I don’t think you’re dumb at all.  I don’t think it’s your fault that you got hurt. I don’t think it’s your fault that Mariana feels bad about it.”

 

“Whose fault do you think it is?” Francesca asks, guarded.

 

“Who did the hurting, babe?” Dominique asks, gentle.

 

“I mean, I should’ve erased my paper before.  Like I did all the other times. Then none of this would’ve happened.”

 

“Do you know...that when I was about your age...I went back to school after something scary happened to me...and I couldn’t write my given name?”

 

Fran turns to look at Dominique, curious.  “Really?”

 

“Really.” Dominique nods.  “Cross my heart. I could only write another name that wasn’t really mine.”

 

“Did your parents see?  Michael and Jaimie?” Fran asks.

 

“They did,” Dominique confirms.

 

“And were they mad you couldn’t write  _ Dominique Williams _ on your homework?” Fran checks.

 

“No.  They wanted to help me.  They understood that I needed to be able to write whatever name I felt comfortable writing.”

 

“They didn’t hit you?” Francesca asks, skeptical, even though she can’t imagine Michael and Jaimie hitting Dominique.

 

“No,” Dominique says simply.  That’s it. Just no.

 

“I hate that Lena hit me…” Fran admits, quiet.  “I hate that Stef calls Mariana the R-word. I hate that they make us feel bad for having disabilities.”

 

“I hate all that, too, Francesca.  You don’t deserve to be hit. Mariana doesn’t deserve to be called that word.  Neither one of you should be made to feel bad because you have disabilities.”

 

“I wanna be done,” Fran argues lightly. She can feel a bunch of strong feelings starting to wake up inside her. And she needs to be sure they’re good and smashed down.  When those feelings come up it’s never good, even if Dominique promised The Avoiders would never hit her.

 

“What’s going on?” Dominique checks.

 

“Nothing,” Fran denies.

 

“You still hating?” Dominique asks softly.

 

“Maybe…” Fran admits.

 

“That’d be okay.”

 

“Feel like screaming.  But screaming’s not allowed.  Like, ever,” Fran admits.

 

“You know, Levi’s here…” Dominique tells her.  “And he had that good coping idea for when he had to scream.”

 

“No,” Francesca says.  “I don’t want to.”

 

“Okay.  We don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do.” Dominique tells her.

 

“I don’t wanna go to school…” Francesca admits feeling shaky.  “I can’t deal with Lena sending me passes. Or mean kids. Or mean teachers.”

 

“I can understand that,” Dominique offers.  “We could talk to Jesus and Mariana about that.”

 

“And say what?” Fran wonders, irritated.  “I have to go to school, Dominique. It’s the law.  Kids get arrested if they don’t go to school.”

 

“Stef tell you that?” Dominique asks.

 

“Yes, so she’d know, right?  She’s a cop…” Fran pushes back.  She sighs. She doesn’t know why she’s being so rude.  She should just go home. Back to Moms’. She’s totally used to it, anyway.

 

Dominique just keeps rocking them both.

 

“Sorry, I’m being so bad…” Fran apologizes.  “You can just drop me back off with Stef and Lena.  It’s probably right for me to be there anyway.”

 

“Francesca, it’s okay.  It’s okay that you’re figuring out how you feel.  That you don’t feel okay. That doesn’t mean you deserve to go back to a place you’ll be hurt.” Dominique explains.

 

“You’re just spoiling me...that’s what Moms say…” Fran points out.

 

“You know, I hear a lot about what your moms say.  I wanna know what you say? Do you think I’m spoiling you?” Dominique asks.

 

“No,” Fran pauses for a minute, thinking.  “I think you’re seeing me.”

 

“I think you’re right,” Dominique hugs her tighter.  

 

“I’m scared to miss school ‘cause then I might be in even more trouble.  But I can’t,” Fran worries.

 

“Okay.  I hear you.  We’ll talk to Jesus and Mariana, okay?  And then you let them figure it out. Safe adult style.”

 

“It’s my fault Mari’s sad…” Francesca offers.

 

“Who did the hurting?” Dominique reminds.

 

“Oh yeah,” Fran remembers.  “It’s Moms’ fault Mari’s sad?” she asks.

 

“That’s accurate,” Dominique nods.  

 

“She’s scared to sleep alone…” Fran offers softly.  “I know that might be private but I just keep thinking about it…  I don’t know if anybody else knows. Or if they should…”

 

“So, maybe Mari has more going on, too…” Dominique ventures.  “And that would be okay. We’re all here for her, too. Safe adults are here for each other, and for kids, too.”

 

“So she’s not alone?” Fran asks.

 

“Neither one of you are alone,” Dominique reassures.  “Not for one second.”

 

“Good,” Fran sighs.

 

\--

 

Mariana has spent most of the time Frankie and Dom are gone crying.  It feels devastating. Hopeless. Wrong. Like a giant drain, sucking everything down.

 

But Pearl’s still here hugging her.  Levi and Jesus are still here, too, but giving them space.

 

When Fran comes back in with Dominique, Mariana finds herself trying to breathe it all back in.  All the upheaval. All the feelings. For Fran’s benefit. Except, it’s not what she’s been trying to teach Fran at all.  Mari’s been trying to teach Fran the opposite.

 

To feel her feelings.  Not to stuff them.

 

When Fran climbs up into Mariana’s lap, Mariana finds herself glad, and holds onto her.  

 

“Sorry I left,” Fran whispers.

 

“It’s okay,” Mariana says.  “You came back.”

 

“I think I need a break from school…” Fran ventures, shy.  “Like, tomorrow.”

 

“Like, a mental health day?” Jesus asks.  “I’ve been thinking that, too, buddy. I’ll call the office tomorrow and excuse you.”

 

“Really?” Fran asks.  “You would do that? So that Stef can’t arrest me?”

 

“Buddy, I would do everything in my power so you never get arrested.”

 

“Were  _ you _ ?” Fran asks.

 

Jesus blinks.  “Yeah, actually.”

 

“When you were just a kid like me?” Fran checks.

 

Jesus nods.

 

“And that’s why you don’t want it to happen to me?” Fran asks.

 

“Yeah,” Jesus manages.

 

“Did Stef do it?” Fran asks.

 

“No.  Some cops. When I lived...well…  When I got away from the bad guy, you know?  The only way I could think of to get away so he couldn’t get me again was to get arrested.  But it wasn’t something I wanted to do. It was because I didn’t have another choice. And it’s not something I ever want to have happen to you.”

 

“Is that why--” Fran starts and stops herself.  “Sorry. I shouldn’t ask trauma questions.”

 

“It’s okay.  I’m actually kinda thinking about it.” Jesus admits.

 

“About what?” Fran asks.

 

“Getting arrested.  Because it’s almost my Getting Away Day.  Escape Day. Whatever. Tomorrow,” he shares.

 

“I’m glad it worked,” Fran tells Jesus honestly.  “But I’m not glad you got arrested.”

 

“Me, too,” Jesus agrees.

 

Mariana shivers, and Francesca feels it in her body.  Maybe because Moms threatened her with being in and being a patient.  Kind of like arrest.

 

“Nobody’s getting arrested,” Fran says quietly, threading her fingers through Mariana’s as they sit together.

 

Mariana squeezes back.


	56. Love Like This

As much as Francesca doesn’t want to go to bed, she’s tired.  Like, tired times ten. 

 

She goes into the spare room at Jesus’s and gets a pair of her pajamas and then says goodnight to Jesus and Levi, who are sleeping in the boy part of the apartments (Jesus’s.)  Fran’s going to sleep in the girl part of the apartments (Dominique’s.) Dom even got an air mattress kinda like Jesus has. 

 

“Good night,” Fran says, giving Levi a hug.  “Thank you for coming.”

 

“You’re welcome, Fran.  We’ll always come if you need us.” Levi says, and she actually believes him.

 

“Night, buddy,” Fran tells Jesus, giving him a hug, too.  “You won’t forget to call my school tomorrow right? To tell them I need a mental break?”

 

He smiles a little.  “It’s called a mental health day, and I won’t forget.”

 

“And hey, I get to be with you tomorrow,” Fran realizes.  “It’s weird to think how ten years ago, on that day, you didn’t even know me.  That I was even around or anything.”

 

“Yeah?  Well, I’m gonna tell you something,” Jesus says, squatting down.  Dudley licks him on the face. “I’m okay, Dud. Chill.”

 

(But Dudley won’t chill.  Just in case.) 

 

Jesus pats his one leg and Fran sits on it like it’s a chair.  “Finding out about you? That was the best part of all of this.  Finding out I had a baby sis was the best thing ever.”

 

“Are you just saying that to say sorry for earlier?” Fran asks, suspicious.

 

“No way,” Jesus reassures.  “I mean it. Being around you made me feel safe.”

 

“So, I was a safe person even when I was a baby for you?” Fran asks, incredulous.

 

“Well...it wasn’t your responsibility to be a safe person for me when you were a baby.  But getting to come home and meet you, and get to know you? That all helped me. And that you didn’t really expect me to be any certain way.”

 

“What do you mean?” Fran asks.

 

Jesus shifts, and they walk to his futon and sit there instead, side by side.  “I mean...Moms...and Brandon...and even Mariana (sorry, Mari)... They all knew me before.  So they all kinda expected me to be the same as I was before the bad guy had me.”

 

“But I didn’t,” Fran points out helpfully.

 

“Right.  It helped to have someone around me who just accepted me the way I came,” Jesus tells her.

 

“Did we always love each other?” Fran wonders seriously.

 

“Pretty much from day one for me.  And...I feel like you were a little nervous around me at first.  We both needed Mariana to help us get used to each other. You know she taught me how to hold you?”

 

“You did?” Fran asks beaming.  She loves hearing stories about herself as a baby.  Especially of her, Mariana and Jesus together.

 

Mariana looks to Jesus, and her eyes light up.  “Oh, right. I did.”

 

“She did,” Jesus confirms.  

 

“Did you ever hold a baby before me?” Fran asks.

 

“I don’t think so, no.  I think holding you was the first time I ever had,” Jesus shares.

 

“So that’s why Mariana had to show you how to do it,” Fran concludes.

 

“Right,” Jesus nods.

 

“Is that story really true you always say?” Fran asks.

 

“Which story?” Jesus asks.

 

“The one about how I’m the one who called you buddy first?  When I was a baby?” Francesca asks, smiling. She actually loves that story, but she’s been pretty sure that Jesus just made it up to make her feel good.

 

“Mari?” Jesus asks, inviting her to sit with them.

 

She does.

 

“Is Fran the one who called me buddy first?” Jesus asks.

 

Fran watches carefully as Mari nods.  A smile comes over her face, at the memory, even though she still looks sad.

 

“Can you tell me the story?” Fran begs.  “No pressure, but it’s just one of my favorites…”

 

Mariana looks around at Pearl, Levi and Dominique who have all been quietly listening at the table.  “Okay…” she says. “So...you thought Jesus was B.”

 

“ _ Brandon _ ?” Francesca asks, wrinkling her nose.  “Ew. I’m sorry, buddy.”

 

“It’s fine,” Jesus nods.  “So, she thought I was B…” 

 

“Yeah.  We were in the living room. There were...you know...all the pictures there...and I was asking you…”

 

“You were asking me who the people were?” Fran asks, even though she knows.

 

“Yeah.  And you were getting them all right…” she trails off, biting her lip.

 

“What?” Fran asks.  “It’s okay.”

 

“It’s just...like...whatever.”  Mariana blinks back tears.

 

Francesca slides closer to Mari on the futon.  “Something sad I bet, huh?” she asks.

 

Mariana nods.

 

“I’m wondering why…” Levi ventures.  “Like...why did no one tell baby Fran that she had another brother?  You know, besides Brandon and Jude?”

 

Mariana nods, pointing at Levi.

 

“Whoa, do you guys have twin telepathy?” Fran asks impressed.

 

Mariana laughs a little, through tears.

 

“No...it’s just...my dad always made sure I knew about my sister.  Even before I got to meet her. I always knew your name, from the time I was a baby,” Levi tells Pearl.  “So, like...it’s just weird your parents wouldn’t tell you that, Fran…”

 

“Not so weird…” Pearl volunteers.  “If you consider how they’ve been recently.”

 

“Oh, yeah, I guess…” Levi nods.

 

Fran’s confused, but she doesn’t really feel like talking about Moms.  “So, I was getting them all right? Except I didn’t know about Jesus yet, because Moms didn’t tell me,” Fran says, reminding them all that they had been in the middle of her favorite story about herself and her buddy.

 

“Right, so, you asked if Jesus was Brandon.  I said ‘That’s Jesus. He’s your brother--’”

 

“And I said ‘Buddy’ right then, right?!” Fran asks, excited.

 

“Kinda.  I had to explain...that he wasn’t...you know...here.” Mariana admits.

 

“Oh,” Fran slumps, disappointed.

 

“It was like...maybe a week before you got home?” Mariana shares, looking at Jesus.

 

He nods, even though he wasn’t there.

 

“So, I said he’s your brother.  And you said ‘Buddy?’ So cute. And then I said, like, “When he comes back, he’ll be your buddy.”

 

“And then you did,” Fran reminds Jesus.  “And we were.”

 

“And then I did, and we were,” he confirms, kissing her gently on the head.  “You should get to bed now, buddy, okay? I’ll be here to talk to all day tomorrow, too.  But we need to make sure you’re getting all your basic needs seen to really well right now.”

 

“Because trauma?” Fran asks, yawning.

 

Jesus nods.

 

“But I don’t wanna go…” she whines.  “I wish we could sleep together in a fort like we did at Grandpa’s cabin…”

 

“That was fun, huh?” Jesus asks, putting an arm around her.  “But, I want you to look around you right now.”

 

Fran does, quick.  “What?”

 

“Well, all around you are safe people.  You’re gonna sleep next door tonight, right, because you said you wanted to sleep at Dominique’s?”

 

“Yeah, but now I really want us all to be together…” Fran insists.

 

“I hear that you want that.  I want that, too. But us all being in the same space for sleeping...doesn’t feel the safest for all of us.  And when The Avoiders are all together like this? We wanna make sure all of us feel safe.”

 

“I know…” Fran whimpers.  “Sorry, I’m such a baby…”

 

“Hey…” Pearl offers.  “Wanting to feel as secure as you can feel is not being a baby.  It’s being really smart. But Jesus and Levi are going to be right across the hall from us.  And if you need them? You wake one of us up, and we’ll walk you over to knock on the door, okay?”

 

Fran feels like sinking down on the floor and crying.  She hates that her ideal safety level has to have extra steps to it.

 

“If you’re not ready to leave yet, that’s cool,” Levi encourages.  “Nobody’s kicking you out, Fran…”

 

“My brain is like mush..” she complains, leaning against Mariana.  “I want it to just be all of us together…”

 

“Babe?  Fran?” Dominique says.  “Jesus and Levi are gonna be safe here.  They’re gonna protect each other. Just like Mari, Pearl and I are gonna protect each other, and you.  All of us are gonna be safe.”

 

“Yeah, but not like, ideal safety…” Fran insists.  “I don’t want extra steps.”

 

Mariana puts an arm around Fran.  Hugs her close.

 

“Buddy?  I have an idea.  Can you breathe with me?  A solid breath?” Jesus asks.  “Good. So. What if you can hang out here, with all of us together, until you fall asleep?  And then, whoever you pick can carry you next door to Dominique’s?”

 

“Pearl,” Fran decides easily.  Francesca knows she’s too heavy for Mariana, and Dominique’s held Fran on her lap a ton today already and her arms are probably tired.  Plus no boys are allowed in Dom’s apartment.

 

“Okay.  So, you just hang out here.  Take it easy. We’ll all stay with you and talk to you.” Jesus reassures.

 

“About good memories?” Fran wonders.

 

“Totally,” Jesus nods.

 

Francesca curls up on the futon, resting her head in Mari’s lap.  Mariana just keeps touching Fran’s hair gently. It feels good. To have her right here.

 

“Thanks for telling me about the Buddy Story,” Fran yawns, looking up at Mari.  “And thanks for telling me about Jesus when I was a baby so I could know him when he got back.”

 

“Of course,” Mariana nods.  “You should’ve always known.”

 

“Like Timothy…” Fran begins, her eyelids getting heavier.

 

“Yeah.  But you’re safe now.” Mari reminds, just in case thinking about Timothy gets her worried.  (She is, but not about that.)

 

“Pearl, don’t take me back yet,” Fran insists, forcing her eyes open.  “Don’t take me back and leave me there by myself…”

 

“I wouldn’t, Francesca.  I wouldn’t leave you anywhere by yourself, I promise,” Pearl says.  “It’s safe to go to sleep.”

 

“It is,” Mari whispers.  

 

“Will you sleep with me?  Or will somebody? I don’t wanna be by myself…” Fran worries.

 

“I’ll sleep with you,” Mariana promises.  “Just go to sleep, okay? We’ve got you.”

 

But Fran holds onto Mariana’s hand extra tight to make sure.

 

\--

 

Pearl waits a good half hour after Fran falls asleep - until her breathing can be heard - loud and heavy - and Mariana indicates that she’s sleeping hard.

 

Then, Pearl walks over to the couch and gathers Fran in her arms, knowing that Dominique has promised to get Cleo.

 

“No…” Fran says in her sleep, sounding anxious.

 

“It’s Pearl,” Pearl tells Fran.  “Levi and I came all the way from Minnesota because we love you so much.  You’re not gonna be alone for one second,” she whispers. “We’re gonna take care of you, alright?  You’re safe.”

 

Fran’s breathing evens out again and Pearl nods her goodbyes to Jesus and Levi.  Dom unlocks her door and Pearl settles Fran on the air mattress in the living room and covers her with a blanket.

 

“She didn’t wanna sleep alone,” Mariana objects softly.

 

“I know,” Pearl nods.  “I’ll be right here, on the couch.  You two...I mean, will you be okay in Dom’s room?”

 

Hesitantly, Mariana nods.

 

Pearl stands and gives her a hug.  “You know, we’ve got you, too, don’t you?  We came for you. You’re safe, too.”

 

She can feel Mariana crying quietly against her shoulder and Pearl holds on.

 

Finally, Mariana pulls back and she and Dominique disappear into Dominique’s bedroom.  “I’ll take care of her,” Pearl promises, reaching into her bag and unearthing Grumpy Bear.  Tucking the ancient Care Bear in beside Fran.

 

“You can have all the feelings you have…” Pearl whispers into the dark, remembering her dad’s words to her as a toddler.  (They’d come back, in the months since she’s been reunited with Grumpy.) “Because feelings are good. Good night, Fran.”

 

Then, Pearl shuts her own eyes and falls asleep almost instantly, exhausted by the long day, but glad she and Levi trusted their gut, and came through for Fran and Mari when they needed them.

 

After all, Pearl knows Dad would say that’s what family was all about.


	57. The Getaway

Jesus takes a while after Mariana, Fran, Pearl and Dom leave just inflating the air mattress for Levi.  Levi keeps busy cleaning up Jesus’s kitchen after the epic homework session Fran had.

 

Eventually, they’re both back in the living room.  Light on. Just hanging out.

 

“So...is it weird?” Levi ventures carefully.  “That there’s a ton of your story that Fran doesn’t know?”

 

“I mean...yes and no,” Jesus admits.  “It’s weird because it’s, like, so public that you’d think she would know about it.  Or like, Moms or somebody would’ve said something about some of the stuff? But on the other hand, it’s not weird at all because they just...don’t really talk about hard stuff.”

 

Jesus stops and can feel his jaw clench.  

 

“You okay?” Levi checks.

 

“No,” Jesus admits.  “I’m mad as hell at them, Levi.  I seriously have no idea what we’re gonna do.  I can’t take her. Like, I don’t have the resources to raise Fran myself, you know?”

 

“Whoa,” Levi says, shifting to prop his head up with one hand.  “Aren’t you rushing ahead just a little? Who’s talking about you raising Francesca?”

 

“I am,” Jesus says seriously.  “I’m not letting her go home if I know she’s gonna get hit again.  If I know that Moms are gonna threaten her with jail. If I know they’re gonna treat Mariana like trash…”

 

“But we’re not there yet,” Levi argues softly.  “Like...let’s get through the night first.”

 

“But I don’t have time, Levi.  There’s not time to just, like, twiddle our thumbs and sit on our hands here,” Jesus insists.

 

“What do your moms say?” Levi asks softly, looking away.

 

“Lena’s all about apologizing.  Like that’ll fix it. Stef is more pissed that I picked Fran up afterward than about her and Lena screaming at Fran and making her cry.  Pretty sure she’d say the slap was warranted.”

 

“But apologizing isn’t gonna make it go away the next time something similar comes up, right?” Levi asks.  “Like, the next time whatever happens that made Lena feel so mad that she hit Fran? If she doesn’t get a handle on it, she’d probably just do it again…”

 

“That’s why I’m saying, dude.  I need a plan,” Jesus feels a weird urgency, and Dudley is definitely alerted now.

 

“You need a plan,” Levi repeats.

 

“Yes!” Jesus answers, too loud.

 

“But, like…  Francesca’s safe right now.  It’s after 11 PM. We can think all together as a group in the morning, can’t we?”

 

Jesus closes his eyes.  Forces himself to breathe.  (Knows a part of him is still freshly inside That House after spending hours digging a massive hole…  Back Then, Jesus had needed a plan, too.)

 

“Sorry.  Flashback,” Jesus apologizes, shaking his head.

 

“Need something?” Levi asks.

 

“No, I just…” Jesus shakes his head.  “I just need...to not be so damn triggered.”

 

Levi blows out a breath.  Then, he stands and walks to the kitchen.  Opens Jesus’s pantry and finds a granola bar.  Goes to his fridge and finds a bottle of water.  Comes back. “There’s a blanket back there.”

 

“What are you doing?” Jesus asks, tired.

 

“Basic needs.  This is what you said, right?  Food, water, warmth? They all help?”

 

Ruefully, Jesus smiles and accepts the granola bar.  The water. Reaches back for the blanket and then thinks better of it.  Levi watches as Jesus disappears into the spare room and comes back out with the long, yellow scarf that Pearl knitted for him once.

 

Levi sits up on the mattress.  “Francesca’s not in danger right now.  Neither are you. So, we’re all okay,” Levi reminds Jesus.

 

“Yeah, I know,” Jesus answers, soft.  “It’s just…” he stops. Swallows once.  Blinks back tears. “Hard as hell to see her going through any of the same shit that I went through.”

 

Levi carefully moves so he’s sitting beside Jesus, but not touching.  “I know,” he says, even though he doesn’t really. Levi can’t even imagine.

 

“Like...Stef and Lena took us in.  They were the ones somebody chose for us.  A judge chose. As a safer option or whatever.  But like…?”

 

“Are they?” Levi asks, quietly.  Rhetorically.

 

“Exactly.  They’re not.  They could manage when there was three of us.  Brandon, Mari and me. When none of us had anything extra.  Just the usual kid-trauma. But like now? There’s six of us.  And they’re all stressed out about Fran and me and Mari needing things to be a certain way.”

 

“And that’s not fair,” Levi offers.

 

“Hell no, it’s not.  It’s not Fran’s fault and it’s not Mari’s fault,” Jesus insists.

 

“Or yours,” Levi adds.  “It’s not your fault either.”

 

“But I’ve been through this before, Levi.  If anybody should know what the hell to do in situations like this, it should be me.”

 

“I think the thing is…” Levi interjects softly.  “You shouldn’t have to be worried about protecting your sisters from your parents.  Your parents should be the ones keeping all of you safe. Ideally,” Levi adds.

 

“Yeah, well…” Jesus remarks, bitter.  “We don’t live in an ideal world.”

 

“No, we don’t,” Levi nods.

 

“People slip.  Or they change.  Or maybe we just get better at seeing them for who they really are.  I really don’t know. I mean, I used to get like, twenty minutes a day with my moms just like checking in with me to see how I was feeling...and it’s like...where the hell is that?  You know? Where are  _ those _ Moms?”  Jesus sighs.  “I always felt so damn selfish, too.  Like...none of my other sibs got Moms in that way.  Just me.”

 

“What do you mean?” Levi wonders.

 

“Like...none of the other kids were allowed to interrupt when Moms were talking to me...not unless someone was, like, literally dying…” Jesus clarifies.  “So...I mean...I knew they were making space for me. Or carving out time they didn’t actually have. I knew it was, like...extra…”

 

“But it’s not extra…” Levi objects.

 

Jesus glances up, forgetting for a second that Levi’s here, listening.

 

“Checking in with your kids is a thing that parents just do.  Having your moms’ attention like that...it wasn’t special treatment, Jesus.”

 

“It is when you’re the only kid who gets it,” Jesus pushes back.  (He can clearly remember Brandon, at eighteen or something, just walking through the living room when he and Moms were talking.  Wonders now if B was hoping to catch Moms one on one.) Jesus keeps thinking. “I mean, I guess, aside from Fran. When she was young, they made sure to read her a story before bed.  That kind of thing.”

 

“That’s a bedtime routine,” Levi points out.  “That doesn’t mean they necessarily checked in with her to see how she was feeling.”

 

Jesus lets his head drop into his hands.  “Shit. We’re way more messed up than I ever thought.  Like, why the hell did they even go to therapy? Was it all just an act?”

 

“Jesus.  Hey. I didn’t mean to like...have this be an existential crisis for you or something…” Levi offers.  “I’m sorry.”

 

“No, you’re right.  You’re clarifying stuff and that helps.  It helps me realize that my family’s a massive disaster.”

 

“Not totally,” Levi offers.

 

“What?” Jesus looks up.

 

“I mean...are your moms messed up?  Yeah. But you, Fran and Mari are family, and you’re there for each other.  The Avoiders...I consider us family, and we’re not like that. So...I mean...based on that logic, your family’s not a disaster.  We’re actually pretty solid.” Levi maintains.

 

“‘Cause we do stuff the human way?” Jesus wonders.  “Check in? Have routines? Don’t call each other names or scare each other?”

 

Levi nods.

 

“I guess you’re right then,” Jesus nods.  “Sorry. As far as anniversaries go? Tonight?  And today? Well, they were pretty terrible. So just...with all the current terribleness it was just…”

 

“Overload,” Levi nods.  “Makes sense.”

 

\--

 

“You asleep?” Dom whispers in the dark.

 

“No,” Mariana says back.

 

“Me neither,” Dominique answers.

 

Mariana almost laughs.  Almost. Except there’s nothing funny going on here.  She feels exposed in sweats. Can feel hands on her that aren’t her own.  And how...just how…?

 

Mariana shudders.

 

“You okay?” Dominique asks.

 

“No,” Mariana says again.

 

“What can I do?” Dominique wonders.

 

“Nothing.  You can’t,” Mariana denies.  It comes out harsh. Flat. Because she has no energy left.  It feels like she’s spent the last twenty-four hours crying. And that’s exhausting as hell.

 

“I can go sleep in the chair...if you need space or whatever…” Dominique offers, and moves to climb down the ladder.  

 

Mariana gropes for her friend’s hand in the dark.  Grabs on. “Don’t. Please.”

 

“Okay,” Dominique nods, crawling back in, about to lie down, except...

 

Roberta glares at them with her yellow eyes, over their talking in the dark.  In the two seconds Dominique has been gone? Roberta has made herself at home on her pillow.

 

“Get out of here,” Dominique reprimands the cat lightly.

 

Roberta meows like she’s innocent.  Her tail hits Mariana in the face.

 

“Thanks.  Really,” Mariana says, somehow managing to laugh.

 

“You are not the queen of this bed.  I’m sorry. You’re not,” Dominique tells Roberta.

 

Once Dominique’s finally nudged Roberta off her pillow and the cat relocated to sleeping on top of Dom, purring away, Mariana manages to say something:

 

“I feel gross…”

 

“Like sick?” Dominique checks.

 

“No.”

 

“Like...triggered?” Dominique again.

 

“I...guess...yeah…  That… I just...don’t wanna sleep alone.  But…”

 

“But sharing can be scary, too,” Dominique fills in, knowing.  “Listen. What about?” she flips a switch and fairy lights strung around the ceiling of her room suddenly flicker on.  “That helps me sometimes. Keeps me here. Lets me know where I am.”

 

“Yeah,” Mariana nods.  “Thanks.”

 

When Mari finally does try to fall asleep, it’s fitful.  And Dominique lies awake beside her.

 

\--

 

The last thing Dominique can do right now is sleep.  She’s tried texting her parents a bunch tonight and they answer, but something’s weird.  Off with them. She can’t put her finger on it. But it’s getting under her skin.

 

It’s not like they tell each other everything all the time.  Dom knows she has things that she keeps from them and vice versa.  That they’re all entitled to privacy. But this is giving her weird feelings.

 

_ Williams Family Chat: _

 

_ Dominique: _

_ Seriously. _

 

_ Michael: _

_ Seriously? _

 

_ Dominique: _

_ What is going on?  You and Mom haven’t said two words to me today.  Usually I get a play by play of y’all’s evening. What gives? _

 

_ Michael: _

_ Sorry.  Got a lot on our minds.  We’ll let you know in a couple days if we can. _

 

_ Dominique: _

_ No one’s dying, right? _

 

_ Michael: _

_ No, babe.  No one is dying.  Can you sleep? _

 

_ Dominique: _

_ Is it me?  Did I do something wrong? _

 

_ Michael: _

_ You did everything absolutely right.  Be proud of yourself. I sure am. _

 

_ Dominique: _

_ Alright now I’m getting sleepy.  Too much corny for me… _

 

_ Michael: _

_ To the moon… _

 

_ Dominique: _

_ And back, right? _

 

_ Michael: _

_ A million times over. _

 

_ Dominique: _

_ Me, too.  Tell Mom? _

 

_ Michael: _

_ You bet.  Call if you need us. _

 

Dominique turns off her phone and tries to distract herself looking at the lights.  Roberta comes up, looking to get comfortable, right on Dominique’s chest.

 

She can tell, from her experience sharing beds with people that Mariana’s wide awake beside her, without Dominique even turning her head to check.

 

“I won’t hurt you,” Dominique whispers, in case it helps.  “You’re safe here with me.”

 

“Hmm…  Okay…” Mariana answers softly.

 

And she’s still awake...but it’s a little better.


	58. Laying Me Low

Francesca wakes up in the morning feeling so confused.  Like, where even  _ is _ she?  She turns over, feeling an air mattress under her and knows.  Oh. Jesus’s. 

 

But when she opens her eyes and actually looks?  There’s Pearl on Dominique’s couch. And Fran has a really old Care Bear who lost all his fur in with her.  Pearl’s writing in a journal, and maybe doesn’t even know Fran is awake yet.

 

Francesca looks at the Care Bear.  He’s not smiling at all, and looks like he’s in a bad mood.  It matches how she feels. 

 

“Where’s my phone?” she whines.

 

Pearl jumps.  “Oh,” she says, putting a hand to her chest.  “I didn’t know you were awake. I don’t know where your phone is.  Maybe at Jesus’s?”

 

“Great…” Fran flops back on the air mattress.  “Wait. Where’s Mari?” She’s worried now, because what if Mari’s at Moms’ house all alone?

 

“She’s here.  She and Dominique are still asleep in the bedroom, I think.” Pearl reassures.

 

“No fair, she said she’d sleep with me…” Fran pouts.

 

“Well, that was probably my badness,” Pearl explains, making Fran smile in spite of herself.  “You picked me to carry you in, and I haven’t developed the superhuman strength to safely carry you up a ladder to where Dominique’s bed is, so you and Mari could share.”

 

“You should grow some more muscles,” Fran says, not quite ready to forgive Pearl yet.  She yawns. “Do I really get to stay home today, even though I’m not sick?”

 

“Jesus promised to call into Anchor Beach, and he keeps his promises,” Pearl points out.

 

“Do you think it’s rude to go over now?  To look for my phone and get my clothes and ask him if he called my school?”

 

“Well, let me text and see if they’re up,” Pearl offers.  

 

“I wouldn’t knock loud or anything…” Fran objects.

 

“No, I know.  Just...some people don’t like to be seen in their pajamas.  They prefer to be dressed.” Pearl explains.

 

“Oh,” Fran says.  “I guess Jesus is kinda like that.  I don’t care if anybody sees me in my pajamas.”

 

“Well, your clothes are actually here.  I think Mariana grabbed them for you last night,” Pearl says.  “So if you’d like to change, you can.”

 

“I’d like to not change,” Fran mutters.  “P.S. Whose Care Bear is super crabby?” she asks, gesturing to the bear, now face down on the air mattress.

 

“That would be Grumpy Bear,” Pearl shares with a big smile.  She starts to slide down off the couch, to join Fran on the air mattress, but stops herself.  “Sorry. May I?”

 

Fran nods.  

 

Pearl joins her, and Fran finds herself moving close. She still kind of has that cold feeling.  Plus her bandaid got all sweating and is basically hanging off her arm right now. Under is a kind of scratchy bruise from all the pinching she did when she had to be petrified so she wouldn’t get into more trouble.

 

Fran shakes her head.

 

She doesn’t want to think about that.

 

“Actually, he was a gift from my dad, when I was really young,” Pearl confides.  

 

Fran cocks her head.  “From your dad?” she asks, wary.  (Dad conversations are kinda dangerous now.)

 

“Mm-hmm.  When I was two.  I had gotten into trouble at McDonald’s…  I wanted to play on the playground outside and not eat my food.  My mom got really short with me when I started crying about having to stay at  the table. She said if I couldn’t be happy, I wouldn’t be allowed to come to McDonald’s anymore.”

 

Francesca’s quiet.  It kind of reminds her of how she can’t be upset in front of Moms.  How she has to always put her feelings under the Magic Carpet or do bad coping so she won’t cry in front of them.

 

“So, my dad got me Grumpy Bear, to help me always remember that I could have any feeling.  All the feelings…” Pearl trails off, her eyes falling on Fran’s arm.

 

Francesca follows her gaze.  “When you talk to them, are you gonna tell my moms I did this?” she asks carefully.

 

“Do they not know?” Pearl asks evenly.

 

“No, they do.  They just think Jesus, like...was a bad example and taught me to do it.  But he didn’t. They know and they hate it. They just want me to act normal.”

 

“What’s normal?” Pearl asks.

 

“Duh.  Not having to pinch your arm to make your feelings go back in…” Fran mutters darkly.  “I can’t wait til I’m grown up and I don’t have to do that. Until it just happens automatically.”

 

There’s quiet, while Fran debates trying to rip off the rest of her bandaid.  It will hurt really bad, probably. So she has to get herself ready for it.

 

“Hey, Francesca?” Pearl asks.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Who gave you this awesome CandyLand bandaid?” Pearl asks.

 

“Jaimie.” Fran says, distracted.  “It’s falling off, though, see?”

 

“I do.  Do you need another bandaid?” Pearl asks.

 

Fran shrugs.

 

“Yes.”

 

A new voice.  

 

Fran glances up. 

 

Mariana.

 

Fran scowls.  “No, I don’t.”

 

“Yes, you do,” Mariana insists softly.  “Safety.”

 

“Whatever, I don’t…” Fran argues.  “You can’t tell me what to do.”

 

“Francesca,” Pearl says in a really calm voice, like that’s supposed to mean something.

 

“What?  I don’t have to listen to you.  Not to any of you guys. You’re not Moms so…”

 

“Hey, what’s going on out here?” Dominique asks, coming out in the living room too.  She was just in the bathroom. Her hair’s still wrapped, and she’s still in pajamas.

 

“They’re bossing me around…” Fran pouts.

 

“She needs a bandaid,” Mariana points out.

 

“Shut up!  No, I don’t!” Francesca yells.

 

“Mm-mm,” Dominique warns, shaking her head.  “We don’t speak to each other like that here.”

 

“Whatever!  Send me back to Moms’ then!  Since you don’t like how I’m  _ speaking _ …” (Oh gosh, Francesca is having so much attitude right now.  If Mom knows about it… Fran shoves that thought out of her head.)

 

“Will y’all excuse us for a minute?” Dominique asks.

 

“You don’t have to talk to me, I’m not a baby…” Francesca says in a flat voice, as Pearl and Mariana go into the costume room.

 

“I do have to talk to you.  Because you seem triggered right now.”

 

“Not everything is a trigger!” Francesca exclaims, frustrated.

 

“You’re right.  Not everything is.  But you’re having a tough time being respectful, and that’s not typical for you.  Is something bothering you?”

 

“No!  That’s the point!” Francesca insists.

 

“Listen.  Maybe if we’re a little quieter?  Roberta will come over near us. And I know petting her really helps me feel better.” Dominique offers.

 

“Well, I don’t need to pet her, I already feel fine,” Fran crosses her arms.

 

Dominique’s quiet for so long, Fran kind of expects her to just get up and leave her there.  She doesn’t though. She’s just there. Quiet. Watching. Waiting, maybe.

 

“Sorry,” Fran offers in a tiny voice.  “I just...don’t want anybody touching my bandaid…”

 

“No?” Dominique asks, concerned.  She looks closer, but doesn’t touch.  “Ah, yeah, I see that. That part looks like it’s stuck on pretty good.  I can understand why you wouldn’t want anyone to touch it.”

 

“But I need this one off to get a new one,” Francesca objects.  “You know, for safety? And I didn’t know what to do…”

 

“So, you acted out,” Dominique fills in, no judgment.

 

“I guess,” Fran nods.  “I was scared if I talked about it, one of you guys would just make me go in the bathroom and take it off of me rough or something.”

 

“Babe?  That’s not safe behavior.  Mariana, Pearl and I? We’re all safe adults.  So that means we’re not about to make you do anything you don’t wanna do.”

 

“For safety, though,” Fran objects.

 

“For safety, it’s even more important that you feel secure.  It is important that we keep taking care of your arm. Because your safety from bad coping matters.  But we’re gonna take it a step at a time. None of us are gonna hurt you.”

 

“But bandaids like this always do.  They always feel like they’re ripping skin off,” Fran shudders a little.

 

“Well, I have a pretty good trick for that.  You trust me?” she asks.

 

“Can I do the taking off?” Fran asks.

 

“You bet.  I’m gonna need good lighting.  Soap and water. So, your choice.  You want the bathroom sink or the kitchen?”

 

“Kitchen.” Fran decides.

 

“Ooh.  Good choice.  I do have to swing by close to the bathroom to get a new bandaid and stuff.  There we go,” Dom says, getting them out of the thing on the back of her bathroom door.

 

Once they’re in the kitchen, Dominique turns on the water so it runs nice and warm.  

 

“Do I have to put my arm in there?” Fran asks.

 

“You want a washcloth instead?  Soap and warm water help the adhesive let go.” Dominique explains.  

 

So, Fran plunges her arm under the stream of water.  She gets tons of Dominique’s foaming soap that smells like pears and just like magic, the bandaid comes off.  

 

Fran has to take a long time rinsing off the soap and then drying her arm.  And when that’s all done, Dominique puts some antibiotic cream on it and a new bandaid, but she lays this one a different way.

 

“Sorry, I was rude…” Fran apologizes again.

 

“I appreciate the apology,” Dominique says.  “I think Mariana could use one, as well.”

 

“I know.” Fran nods. “I’m not really allowed to say shut up,” she confesses, clapping a hand over her mouth.  “Oops. That one was just explaining,” she says, her words muffled by her hand.

 

“I know, babe.  You’re not in trouble for that.  But I would like you to apologize to Mariana.  And next time you’re nervous about something, can you do something for me?”

 

“Sure,” Fran says, leaning against Dominique, feeling safer now that all the hair didn’t get ripped off her arm.

 

“Can you tell me a word?  Something that means you need help?  Or you’re overwhelmed? Nervous? You have a word like that?”

 

“Backup,” Francesca offers.  “That means, I need backup for something.  Like, support.”

 

“Great, I remember you using that at the cabin.  So when you say backup, we’ll know to pause and ask you questions, to figure out what’s making you feel scared.”

 

Francesca taps on the costume room door.  “Hey,” she says coming over to the big chair where Mariana’s sitting.  “I’m sorry about yelling at you and being so rude.”

 

“Thanks,” Mariana says, giving Fran a hug.  

 

Fran hugs her back, relieved that Mari still wants to.

 

“I just got, like, too many feelings.  You know, like you do sometimes?” Fran asks.

 

Mariana nods.  “I do know.”

 

“I just don’t feel great right now, guys…” Fran confesses.  “I feel like everything is just a little bit wrong…”

 

“Well, that would make sense,” Pearl offers.

 

“I have a question,” Fran says, looking to Dominique.

 

“What’s that?” Dom asks, walking a little closer.

 

“Will you be my safe adults even if I act out?” 

 

“Babe, absolutely.  That’s when you need safe adults the very most…” Dominique explains.

 

“But that’s when Lena hit me also...so…” Fran shrugs.

 

“I know,” Mari nods, patting the empty space in the chair next to her.  “But we won’t.”

 

“That’s what Dominique told me last night,” Fran remembers.  “It’s just...it all feels like a dream… Like this whole thing.  Pearl, you coming here with Levi, and everything. Even meeting Timothy.  It kinda all feels like a long, bad dream.”

 

“You’re awake, though,” Mariana tells her.

 

“I wish…” Fran starts and then stops.

 

“What do you wish?” Mariana asks.

 

“I don’t know…” Fran admits, putting her head on Mariana’s shoulder.  “I wish a lot of things.”


	59. Out Alive

Jesus wakes up tense.

 

He’s just dreamed the last moments ever of being in That House.  Not really dreamed. Because it was what actually happened.

 

The last moments ever of seeing Him.  That last thing He ever said to Jesus:

 

“ _ I don’t know how you found enough time to study for that test today, son, but good luck…” _

 

He said it like He always said everything.  With an edge of meanness. Of mocking. Because He knew that Jesus sucked at school and that He’d kept him busy - beyond exhausted - digging.  All the previous day and into the night.

 

Jesus had turned around and seen Him at the table, eating the breakfast Jesus made but wasn’t allowed to eat.  Jesus tried to look his most pathetic - which wasn’t hard - being starved and sunburned - his hands were blistered and his ankle had a deep place where the chain dug in all the previous day.

 

That had been the last moment.  Jesus had given Him one last pitiful look before it was off to school.  Like usual. Except, not like usual at all.

 

Glancing around, it helps to be able to see Levi right away.  Fran’s phone is lit up right next to his head and that reminds Jesus he needs to call Anchor Beach.  He checks the time. 7:50. Good. Jesus still has thirteen minutes before Fran could be marked unexcused.

 

Damn.  He still can’t shake the feeling that he’s on a clock.

 

Trying to ignore the fact that Fran’s phone had shown  _ Mama _ in the display, Jesus takes his own into the spare room and closes the door softly.

 

He gets Connie on the line and immediately feels better with a part to play:

 

“Hey, Connie.  I’m calling to let you know Francesca’s gonna be absent today.  She’s not feeling well.”

 

“Jesus, you know you’re my favorite former student but you’re not Francesca’s guardian,” Connie warns.

 

Shit.  Admin must be coming down hard on them for letting things slide.  Jesus has to think fast. 

 

“True, but I _ am _ over 18.  And she  _ is _ staying with me right now.  I mean, if you’d rather I send her anyway, I can totally do that, but then who knows how many absences you’ll have…  You know how sickness travels through kids. They’ll get it. Then you’ll probably get it. I mean, is that really worth the trouble?”  

 

“Alright.  I’ll mark her absence as excused.  But this cannot be a regular occurrence,” Connie warns.

 

“No, ma’am,” Jesus agrees and hangs up.

 

His phone is vibrating in his hand just that fast:  _ Lena _ .

 

He picks up, angry.  Doesn’t say hello.

 

“How’s Frankie?” Lena asks sounding worried.

 

“She’s sleeping,” Jesus guesses, knowing his sis usually is up around 8:30.

 

“Jesus, you need to stop this.  I lost my temper, but Frankie is not in a dangerous situation here,” Lena placates.

 

“Like hell she isn’t,” Jesus pushes back.  “I know you think I’m some damaged, naive little kid, but I’m not.  I know what happened. And it  _ is _ dangerous.  And I’m not sending her back there.”

 

“Mariana needs to do therapy,” Lena tries again.

 

Jesus scoffs, blinking back tears.  “Seriously? That’s all you can say right now about Mariana?  She needs to do her therapy?”

 

“What?” Lena asks, sounding mystified.  “Jesus, I don’t have time for games right now.  I have to go to work. And I need Frankie home. Family’s fight, honey.  I know it makes you uncomfortable, but it’s reality. Now, I have to go to work, and I want Frankie and Mariana home tonight.”

 

Just like that, Lena’s gone.

 

And something gives inside of Jesus.  He takes Francesca’s phone out of his pocket.  

 

Going to her voicemails and listening to five left from Moms in the past 24 hours.

 

“ _ Frankie, it’s Mom.  You need to get your butt home right now.  Running away will not solve anything.” _

 

_ “Frankie, Mama’s outside Jesus’s and no one is answering.  This is not funny.” _

 

_ “Frankie, it’s Mama.  I need you to call me.  I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hit you, but you need to understand that going behind our backs, screaming at us like you did?  None of that is okay.” _

 

_ “Frankie, it’s Mom.  This is very serious.  You need to stop avoiding us and come back home now.” _

 

_ “Frankie, it’s Mama.  I didn’t sleep all night.  I can’t believe you’d just leave like that.  You know how dangerous it is. You know what happened to Jesus.  I need you to come back home. You need to face this, Frankie.” _

 

Jesus deletes every one after listening and then makes sure to go into Francesca’s contacts and block Moms’ numbers, as well as their texts.  Fran will want her phone and she doesn’t need to be breaking into tears or having an anxiety attack because they won’t stop harassing her. Jesus will unblock them, but not today.

 

He hears a tap on the door.  “Hey. Everything cool?” 

 

Levi.

 

Right.  He’s here.

 

Thank goodness.

 

Jesus eases open the door.  “My moms are…” he makes a motion like his head is exploding.  

 

“Sorry, man.  Need anything?” Levi wonders.

 

“No.  You? Want breakfast?” Jesus asks.  

 

“I’m not really a big eater.  Especially not in the morning,” Levi admits.  “Don’t tell Pearl.”

 

“You want coffee, the Keurig’s there.  Also have the coffee pot. Not trying to be rude it’s just…  Triggers and whatever.”

 

“Do you have tea?” Levi wonders.  “I can look. You know, if the whole kitchen’s a trigger?”

 

Jesus laughs, and it sounds brittle, even to him.  “Yeah, it kinda is. Dreams are ridiculous. Stef and Lena are seriously harassing Fran.  And me. And Mariana, too, I’m sure. And then I had to call the school to excuse Fran and like...act?”

 

“Act…”  Levi ventures, opening cupboard doors.  “You do have tea, BTW.” Levi says, grinning.  “My favorite kind, too. So, thanks.”

 

“Yeah,” Jesus says.  Dudley has perked up.  His head is in Jesus’s lap.

 

“You okay?” Levi asks.  “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, it’s just…like...have you ever heard the saying, ‘ _ Everybody’s acting _ ?’” 

 

Jesus’s eyes flash.  “But everybody’s  _ not.” _

 

“Okay.  Obviously, I hit a nerve.  I’m sorry. I was just trying to, like, identify or whatever.  So you felt less alone..”

 

“But it didn’t feel like identifying.  It felt like minimizing. Because you don’t have any idea what it’s like to walk back into a school where the worst day of your life happened and be able to say whatever the hell you want, and have no one question you.”

 

“I guess…  I’m sorry, I’m really confused.” Levi admits, bringing his tea out to the table and setting it down.  He brings a second cup of hot water and the rest of Jesus’s tea, in case he wants some.

 

But Jesus looks a million miles away.

 

\--

 

_ Less than three months after escaping, Jesus had finally managed to convince Moms and the new therapist that he’s ready to go back to Anchor Beach.  Mariana promises to stay with him. They have most classes together. Mama drives them to school, and promises to pick them up after. _

 

_ Brandon offered to take Callie and Jude himself, which helps.  Jesus is still Level 1 freaked out by Jude at least. _

 

_ Jesus has grown a little in these months.  His scars have faded. He’s even gotten a haircut so that he’s not constantly reminded of the one he gave himself the night he got away. _

 

_ He feels weirdly like a normal kid.  He gets to wear normal clothes. And go to normal school - not where He was always watching - because He worked as a janitor in the elementary school...which was attached to the middle school. _

 

_ Jesus is feeling pretty good about his weight and his height and everything until he sees his friends from elementary school, and how huge they are now.  They tower over him. Like Mariana. Their voices are deep and Jesus still talks like a little kid. _

 

_ Up to the main office they go and Connie, the secretary, greets him with a wide smile.  “Jesus, it’s so good to see you!” _

 

_ He doesn’t know what to do.  So he smiles. “Okay…” _

 

_ “If you need anything, you just let me know,” she says, her face flushed. _

 

_ “Okay…”  he waits until Mama is distracted talking to Mariana about Jesus’s schedule.  Feels the mask slip into place. The need to test her. To test his safety. He feels, for a second, like Josh again, and it feels familiarly unsafe.  “If I..like...had to leave or something?” he asks, leaning in. _

 

_ “Honey, you’re free to do whatever you need to do.” Connie tells him. _

 

_ Jesus presses his lips into a thin line. _

 

_ “ _ Even get kidnapped again.  Awesome. Just leave by yourself, Josh, or whatever your name is.  You can do whatever you want…”  _ Josh -  _ Jesus _ \- thinks bitterly. _

 

_ He’d gone to some of his classes. _

 

_ He hadn’t gotten kidnapped. _

 

_ But that wasn’t the point. _

 

\--

 

“Jesus?  Jesus?” Levi asks.  And Jesus gets the feeling he’s been out of it for more than just a second.  Dudley’s got his front paws up on Jesus’s lap. Licking his face.

 

“I’m here.  I’m here. Good boy, Dudley,” Jesus tells the dog.

 

“Sorry.  What?” Jesus says as he nudges Dudley down.  He stays close anyway.

 

“Are you okay?” Levi asks.  “You just, like, went somewhere for a while.  I didn’t mean to trigger you. I’m really sorry.  I know this is an awful couple days for you.”

 

But Jesus knows.  Levi doesn’t know.  He’s the one Avoider who actually knows very little about what went down.  And instead of being comforting, it actually feels like how it might feel to trust somebody to avoid a million landmines buried in the ground.

 

“I just…” Jesus draws a shaky breath.  “I need to tell you something. Can you just listen?” 

 

“Sure,” Levi says.

 

“So, when I was in eighth grade...that’s basically when all this happened.  This string of anniversaries or whatever. And a bit later? After the New Year, I tried going back to school at Anchor Beach.”

 

“Where Fran goes?” Levi asks.

 

“Yeah.  It’s K-12, so…  Anyway, I...got back and the same secretary was working at the desk as when I was a kid, apparently.  She still works there today.”

 

“So, she’s who you spoke to,” Levi points out, letting Jesus know he’s following.

 

“Right, so…  I was kidnapped,” Jesus drops it in awkwardly.  Everything’s so damn fuzzy right now he doesn’t remember if he’s told Levi this much.

 

“I know,” Levi nods somberly.

 

“So, in eighth grade, I got home.  I started school again. I said that already,” Jesus shakes his head.  “Sorry, I’m an idiot.”

 

“You’re not.  I’m with you.” Levi insists, quiet.  “You started school again in eighth grade.  After the New Year. You spoke to a secretary named Connie, who still works there.”

 

Jesus nods.  “So...I was used to dropping, like, the most major hints ever in the universe, right?  ‘Cause I went to school Then. Before. So, I was hiding in plain sight, basically.”

 

“Oh.  Oh,  _ God _ , who’s the idiot now?” Levi winces.  “I should never have said the thing about everybody acting…  Obviously, that’s so not what you meant, and you’re right to be upset…” 

 

Jesus keeps talking: “So, I walked up to Connie that morning, and I start feeling...a bit more like...well, this kid I had to pretend I was.  For a long time. So I just kinda...found myself in that space again. But instead of trying to make it obvious who I was...I was trying to check out, like, ‘How likely is it I’m gonna get grabbed this time?’  When it happened before, I’d just been a kid.”

 

“Nine, you said.  I remember,” Levi nods.

 

“Right, so…  I hadn’t felt good, and I, even then, was used to being on my own so I just left to walk home.  And that’s when it happened.”

 

“So, you, what?  Asked her questions?” Levi wonders.

 

“Yeah, I was like, ‘ _ What if I have to leave _ ?’ And I don’t know why, but like, especially the office people?  They act like I’m some kind of celebrity. So, she’s just, like, happy I’m talking to her, I guess, and she goes, ‘ _ You just do what you need to do. _ ’”

 

“So, basically telling you you could just leave school by yourself again if you wanted and no one would stop you…” Levi surmises.

 

“Or make sure I had an adult with me that I knew…” Jesus continues.  “So, yeah, talking to her again this morning, I kinda, slid back into that character.  That person I had to be. And I haven’t really felt that in a long time. It feels weird that I can still just...go there...if I feel like I have to...to get what I need.”

 

“That does sound weird,” Levi nods.  “I mean...not that you’re weird. Just…  I’m sorry. I’m nervous. I know you’re triggered and I wasn’t a great listener earlier on and I wanna be sure I’m helping and not making anything worse, you know?”

 

“You’re not.  The apology helped.  And you’re here. Really helps just having you here.  It’s tough, being alone.”

 

“Well, you’re definitely not that.  Hey, and if you ever have to talk to Connie again this week?  I can do it. Teachers love me,” Levi offers.

 

“That’d work out so amazingly, since you’re like, twelve,” Jesus teases, his eyes glinting with humor, even through the raw grief.

 

“Very funny.  I’ve been eighteen for four months,” Levi laughs.

 

“Glad you’re here, dude.  Seriously,” Jesus says, extending his fist for Levi to bump.

 

Levi does, nodding.  Then, he pulls the quilt from his dad tighter around his shoulders.

 

Jesus shivers, thinking of the dead.  Of spirits. 

 

And for a split second, he thinks of Isaac. 


	60. Cross That Line

It’s obvious to Levi: Jesus is having a hell of a day right now.  And all he wants to do is help. Because while he doesn’t know exactly what Jesus is going through, Levi knows what it’s like to be triggered.  He knows what it’s like to live in the aftermath of something awful, and to be alone in the struggle, because even those you loved the very most in life, didn’t recognize what was up.

 

Jesus has that faraway look again and Dudley’s on grounding duty, doing his thing.  Licking Jesus on the face, big paws in Jesus’s lap. It reminds Levi of Panther. Of the other dogs from his childhood: Vader and Hagrid.  

 

Levi is such a dog person.  It’s why he’s comfortable here, now, with Jesus.  Because Dudley’s here, too. Helping. Because Dudley knows what to do.  Levi likes to think that right now, they’re all kind of a team.

 

Once Jesus looks like he’s here again, and picks out some mint tea to drink, Levi looks around the kitchen and makes them both some oatmeal.  Something in his memory is reminding Levi that Jesus likes warm stuff. And he remembers the giant pack of oatmeal at the cabin. Picks out some maple and brown sugar flavored and microwaves it.

 

He sets the first bowl in front of Jesus and then goes back for his own.

 

When Levi comes back to the table, Jesus is still there, his eyes fixed at some point on the wall.

 

“Hey...Jesus?  I didn’t bring you that ‘cause I’m in charge of you or food or anything,” Levi offers, feeling awkward.  “You just...mentioned the kitchen was a big trigger and I know food helps when you feel out of it...so…”

 

“So…” Jesus ventures, focusing in on Levi.  “I can have this?”

 

“Yeah, and the tea, too,” Levi nods.

 

They’re quiet as they both eat.  Levi checks out his phone as he eats, and Jesus seems to do better without a constant eye on him.  Besides, Levi’s the last person who’d be in charge of anybody anyway.

 

Finally, they’re both done and Jesus seems a little better.

 

Levi’s still thinking about being a kid.  About being sure his dad, of all people, would just know he was in trouble.  Would just know what Carla did. And would tell him he knew and it was okay, and Levi wasn’t in trouble.  And another part of Levi was convinced that his dad knew everything and was good with it because Levi had been rude.

 

He shakes his head.  Has to remind himself, again, that he’s here for Jesus right now.  That it can be time for Levi to share stuff later. Right now, though, he has a question.  Wants to make sure Jesus doesn’t have to feel isolated, with what he’s going through right now.

 

“Can I ask you something?” Levi wonders.

 

Jesus glances up from petting Dudley.  His eyes are clear. Face is curious. “Sure.  What’s up?”

 

“You mentioned...that you can just  _ go there _ if you feel like you have to?  You can just act? To get what you need?  And I was wondering, what happens when that happens?  What do you look like? What do you do? Could I tell?”

 

And it happens right in front of Levi’s face.  Jesus goes from present and genuine and soft to sort of pulled up.  A little too at ease. Distant. His tone is friendly but not at all familiar, as he asks:

 

“Well...what if I needed something?”

 

“Jesus,” Levi manages, glad Dudley’s back to making sure Jesus knows where he is, and Levi’s not on his own right now.  “You don’t need to do that. I’m sorry. I should’ve been clearer. You never have to act with me. I just meant...if you wanted to tell me what to look for…”

 

Dudley’s nuzzling against Jesus now, whining.  And Jesus finally looks like he’s coming back.

 

“Hey.  It’s Levi.  If you need something, I’m here.  I got your back. Always,” he adds, for a good measure.

 

Jesus shudders.  “Sorry, it’s just…  It was right there. I can’t really describe it, you know?  But I can slip into it, like I said…”

 

“But you don’t have to,” Levi repeats.  “I want you safe. Not thinking that you have to manipulate people to get what you need.”

 

“Am I?” Jesus asks, back to his genuine self.  He seems unsure.

 

“You are safe,” Levi nods.  “Definitely. You’re here. Dudley and I got you.  Right?” he asks the dog lightly. “I just...I guess I asked because I remember what it was like...hoping somebody would notice and being terrified all at the same time?  And I didn’t want you to feel that with me.”

 

Jesus just looks at Levi for a second.  Then he nods. “Sorry...I’m just, like, wrecked today, dude…”

 

“Hey...remember how wrecked I was in the spring?  Levi asks. “It’s okay. With us? It’s okay to be wrecked.”

 

“Just...the whole thing with Fran is just…” Jesus gestures, like he is at a loss.

 

“Seems like it’s bringing up a lot,” Levi offers.

 

“Yeah, you could say that,” Jesus nods.

 

There’s a knock on his door.  And a voice on the other side says, “Hey, it’s Val.”

 

“Sorry, I gotta get this,” Jesus apologizes, going to the door.

 

Levi freezes a split second, not sure what he should do, now that there’s a woman at Jesus’s door and Levi’s still not dressed.  It never used to be a thing. He used to be fine around both his parents in his pajamas, but ever since six months ago...things like this have gotten harder.

 

“Levi, you wanna come meet Val?” Jesus invites.

 

He pulls the Dad blanket tighter around his shoulders and walks over.

 

“Hey, Levi.  I’m Val,” a woman in her thirties, with sparkling blue eyes and long dark hair introduces herself.  She’s white. Levi feels himself taking a step back. Not shaking her hand.

 

“Hey,” he says, averting his eyes.

 

“Hey, do you guys have my phone?” Levi hears Francesca ask, and he glances up again.

 

“Yeah, why don’t you head in with Levi and he can find it for you.  It’s in the spare room, Levi. And, hey, Fran? I did a thing so that Moms can’t call or text you, okay?  Just so you know.”

 

“Are they gonna be so mad at me?” Fran worries.

 

“No.  If they’re mad, they can be mad at me about it.” Jesus says.

 

Levi invites Fran in, closing the door behind her, while Jesus and Val speak in low voices in the hall.  Fran’s wearing a  _ Moana  _ nightgown which kinda warms Levi’s heart and kinda breaks it.

 

“You guys had oatmeal for breakfast.  Gross,” Fran wrinkles her nose.

 

“Did you have breakfast?” Levi asks.

 

“No...and I’m not having oatmeal,” Francesca crosses her arms.  “Where’s my phone?”

 

Levi steps into the spare room and finds Fran’s phone, handing it to her.

 

“Thanks,” she says, distracted, already clicking buttons.

 

“You’re welcome,” he sings like Maui, and Fran cracks a smile.

 

“Oh my gosh I forgot our favorite movie is  _ Moana _ …  I think I’m having the annoying trauma…” Fran ventures.

 

“Sorry?” Levi asks.  He’s in the kitchen, with a pot on the stove, making some of Pearl’s fancy hot cocoa.  He totally knows the recipe by heart, and can make it almost as well as she can.

 

“You know?  Like, the kind of trauma that makes you annoy people...or like...be…  I don’t know how to explain it…” Francesca sighs, eventually giving up.

 

Levi gives her some time, finishing up the hot cocoa and setting it on the table with a piece of peanut butter and banana toast - he’d seen her enjoy some at the cabin.  Then, Levi clears his and Jesus’s dishes and takes them to the sink to wash.

 

“What’s up, Fran?  How are you?” Jesus asks, finally coming back in.  She’s still focused on her phone, but Levi knows, courtesy of sneaking glances that she’s eating her toast and drinking her hot cocoa.

 

“Having annoying trauma…” she mutters, as Levi turns off the water.

 

“Yeah?” Jesus asks, sitting down across from her.

 

“Yeah, the kind where I’m in a bad mood and everything annoys me…” Fran tells him.

 

“You’re irritable?” Jesus asks.  

 

“If that’s annoying trauma, then yes,” Fran answers, not looking up from her phone.

 

“Well, that’s okay.  You can be irritable,” he reassures.

 

“I already had to say sorry to Mariana and Pearl and Dominique because I was too irritable…” Fran shares.

 

“Yeah?” Jesus asks.  (Levi feels weird listening in, but the apartment’s small.  There really is nowhere to go.)

 

“Mariana was bossing me around about my bandaid and I didn’t want them to, you know, just rip it off me, so I tried to be really bad so they would just give up and send me home…”  Fran trails off, glancing up at them. “But they didn’t. And I’m still here.”

 

“You got a new bandaid, too,” Jesus points out.  “So, that’s awesome. I know it’s not easy to self-care after that, but you let them help you.”

 

“So?” Fran asks, an edge to her voice.  (Levi wonders if he’s the only one who can hear how full her voice sounds.  Or see how often she’s blinking.)

 

“So, I’m proud of you…” Jesus offers.

 

Fran sets her phone down hard.  Shoves it across the table. “I hate that stupid level….” she pouts, burying her face in her arms.  “Cookie Land sucks.”

 

Jesus looks like he might be about to reprimand her, and Levi raises his eyebrows and gestures.

 

Jesus nods.

 

“You wanna watch  _ Moana  _ with me?” Levi asks.  “It’s on my laptop, and I haven’t gotten to watch it since we all did at the cabin.”

 

Fran peeks out.

 

“Okay.”

 

\--

 

Before they settle in to watch the movie, Levi ducks into the bathroom to change into some clothes.  He doesn’t bother doing his hair or anything because he knows Fran’s waiting. When Levi comes back out, he notices Jesus has poured himself a cup of hot cocoa, and is sipping it at the table.

 

The door to the spare room is closed.

 

“Uh...what’s up?  Does she not wanna watch anymore?” Levi asks.

 

“I’m finding pants!” Fran calls.  “Don’t come in!”

 

“I won’t come in, Fran.  You open the door when you’re ready,” Levi calls back, sitting down.

 

“Sorry...you know...if seeing Val freaked you out or whatever?” Jesus asks lowly.  “I didn’t think about it.”

 

“It’s fine.  She didn’t push anything, so I’m okay,” Levi insists.

 

Just then, the door bursts open and Fran is there wearing donut printed lavender fleece pants, with her Moana nightgown which shows the title character, and her pig, Pua on their canoe.  “I’m ready to watch  _ Moana _ !” 

 

“I guess Francesca’s ready to watch  _ Moana _ …” Levi smiles.  “You wanna watch with us?”

 

Jesus considers this.  “I guess, yeah. I could.  If it’s cool...”

 

“I always want you to watch movies with me, buddy,” Fran says.  

 

So, they end up settled in front of Netflix, because “the screen is bigger on Jesus’s TV” according to Fran.  And she’s right.

 

Levi lets himself relax, knowing that, for a couple of hours, the three of them can lose themselves in music and in a story, and stay together besides.


	61. Shine a Light

When Fran leaves to go next door to find her phone at Jesus’s, Mariana can’t help it.  She breathes a sigh of relief. It’s not that she’s over Fran or anything like that, it’s just...she needs space and quiet.  And Fran’s trauma can be loud and intense.

 

It’s not her fault.  

 

But Mariana’s glad to know Francesca’s safe with Jesus and Levi next door.  And that she, Dominique and Pearl can just hang out here.

 

Or, she  _ could _ , if Stef would stop texting her...

 

She scowls at her phone screen:

 

**_Stef:_ **

_ If I don’t hear from you, I’m calling in a wellness check. _

 

“Fuck, I hate her…” Mariana seethes, pelting her phone down on Fran’s abandoned air mattress.  “Pop this fucking bed!” One kick with a bare foot sends pain through Mariana’s toes.

 

“Alright.  Hey, Pearl, would you mind deflating that?  Mari, you wanna come in the costume room?” Dominique asks.

 

“Tell Stef to fuck off with her fucking wellness police shit!” Mariana insists, just barely keeping it together.

 

“If Stef’s threatening you with cops, Pearl can call and tell her to stop,” Dominique reassures.  “Right?” she asks, looking at Pearl.

 

“Definitely.  I’ll give you the all-clear when the living room is suitable again.”

 

Mariana tries to keep it together as she walks next to Dominique back into the costume room.

 

\--

 

Once the door to the costume room closes, Pearl gets on the phone.

 

“Hey, Stef?  It’s Pearl. Mariana’s fine.” Pearl starts shortly.

 

“ _ From 2,000 miles away, how could you know, Pearl?  She could tell you anything.” _

 

“Well, here’s the thing: I’m not 2,000 miles away anymore.  I’m actually in town. So, I do know that you don’t need to be threatening her with a wellness check to get her to contact you.” Pearl says, firm.

 

“ _ Pearl, come on.  It was just a means to an end.  You’re not a mother so you couldn’t possibly understand what I’m dealing with.  She only communicates in extremes. That’s all that gets in. So I had to take it to eleven with her.” _

 

Shaky hands.  Pearl hasn’t felt this in months.  And the return of this particular symptom is not a welcome one.  But Cleo’s here, nipping at her hands. Pearl draws a deep breath:

 

“Mariana communicates in extremes when she’s under stress.  The last thing she needs is you threatening her.”

 

_ “I just want to be sure she’s safe, Pearl.” _

 

“Well, now you know,” Pearl answers brusquely, hanging up before Stef can reply.

 

\--

 

Dominique’s unearthed every stress ball she owns and has laid them all out on the table for Mariana in case she wants them.  Right now, Mari’s got one in each hand, silently squeezing the hell out of them.

 

She keeps quiet until Pearl knocks.  “Hey. Air mattress is out of sight and in the closet.  And I told Stef to leave you alone. May I come in?”

 

Dominique looks to Mariana, who nods.

 

“Please,” Dominique says.

 

The door eases open and Pearl comes in and takes a seat on the floor, near Dominique.  Mariana’s in the chair.

 

“And to think I was going to ask you how things were for you at home…” Pearl offers ruefully.

 

Mariana glances at her.  “Yeah, well… Pretty much like that.”

 

They’re silent a while while Mariana decompresses.  She’s grabbed a blanket off the back of the chair and holds it in her lap.

 

After several minutes of silence, Mariana offers:

 

“It’s like...being in a hole...that just opened up.  Like, swallowed me. And they’re wherever. Not in the hole.  Yelling.  _ Just climb out _ .  But there’s no handles.  No things to grab hold of.  And they keep yelling at me for being down here.  For being like this. Me, now. For just being. Nothing is good enough.”

 

Dominique listens, stoic.

 

“It’s like...everything I do...is magnetized…  Shit, I mean…”

 

“We’re listening,” Dominique tells her.  “You’re doing fine. Everything you do is…”

 

Mariana shrugs, cheeks flushed.  “I might just have to, you know, say words.  To maybe get to the right one?” she admits.

 

Pearl nods.  “Sounds like a good strategy to me.  Let us know if we can help at all.”

 

“And we won’t laugh,” Dominique promises.

 

“Everything I do is...like...magnified or...like...a detective?” Mariana tries again.

 

“They’re like detectives, or you are?” Dominique asks.

 

“They are.”

 

“So, do they study you?” Pearl wonders.  “Maybe everything you do is scrutinized?” 

 

“That.  So nothing’s good enough.  Not what I say. How I am. Who I am.  My brain now. Whatever.”

 

“Sounds like a ton of pressure,” Dominique comments.

 

“So...have they hurt you?  Like they hurt Fran?” Pearl ventures.  “You don’t have to say, but...there were definitely a couple of times in my life where my mom hit me…”

 

“Not hit,” (Mariana leans away from them and Dominique can’t help but think she  _ has _ been hit.  Maybe she just can’t say.  Or maybe she tried and it came out wrong.)   “But...they call me…” Mariana ventures.

 

“They call you...a name?” Dominique guesses.

 

Mariana nods.

 

“Derrogative something…” Mariana mutters.  “R-word.”

 

\--

 

Mariana feels small.  Powerless. Trapped. As all the moments she’s had to hear that word come flooding back to her.  Usually from Stef:

 

_ People are going to think you’re [the R-word]. _

 

_ I want a daughter who acts 23 and not like a[n R-word]. _

 

_ If you keep acting [like the R-word], that’s exactly how people are going to treat you.  You need to rise above. _

 

Mostly Stef.  

 

Sometimes Lena.

 

They haven’t hit her lately, but they degrade her.  They question her every word, every mood, every action.  They exhaust her. They ignore that she’s wholly human. They treat her like nothing.  Like less than nothing. Like dirt, because she’s not who they love anymore.

 

She’s this.

 

(Even though they didn’t love that her much to begin with.  Didn’t trust that her much. Believe that her. But it’s reached a whole new level now.  A level Mariana wishes she could return from. Take the elevator down, down, down, and not be nitpicked to death for not taking the stairs.)

 

Over the last 18 months, Mariana has lost pieces of herself.  Dignity mocked. Privacy lost. Respect squashed under their shoes.  

 

Mariana can’t make herself into who Moms want anymore.  So now, she must deal with being constantly despised.

 

It’s heavy, this burden.

 

This being hated for a thing she can’t help.  

 

Not to mention The Others.  The Things she can’t talk about.  The Nick of it all. The Whoevers that had hurt her in third grade.  And Graham Cracker Guy before that… She can’t talk about it, because it’s like Moms forgot that Mariana has more going on right now.

 

She’d really rather her heart get some help.  Some attention. Some love. But that can’t happen - at least - not by Moms.  Because that hurt, scared part of her doesn’t fucking matter nearly as much as the fact that Mariana isn’t perfect.

 

They won’t stop until they can make her into who they want.

 

Even if they have to break her in the process.

 

Fran, too.

 

\--

 

“Mariana?” Pearl asks.

 

She blinks.  “What?”

 

“If this is too much...we don’t have to talk about it…”

 

“It’s fine.  If you don’t want to,” Mariana waves her hand.  (Seriously, they’ve barely scratched the surface and Pearl wants an out already…)

 

“I mean, you seem stressed.  Like, you just checked out for a bit.” Pearl points out.  “I want to listen. But, it’s fine to pace yourself.”

 

Mariana nods.

 

“Want some coffee?” Dominique asks.

 

Mariana spreads her hands like,  _ hello _ ?  

 

“Right.  Your default setting is coffee,” Dominique jokes.

 

Mariana follows them out to the kitchen, breathing a sigh of relief that the air mattress is gone.

 

“The corner,” she offers, once they’re all sitting on the couch together.  “The sheet was off and the corner was like, exposed…” Mariana remembers the state of the mattress in detail.

 

“That’s right,” Pearl nods to herself as she tries to keep Cleo out of her coffee.

 

“I hate that.  When it’s stripped like that,” Mariana shares.  “Makes me remember. You know. The Things.”

 

“Support group things?” Dominique guesses, and Mari nods.

 

“So...that and... _ that _ …” Mariana seethes glancing at her phone on Dominique’s end table.  “Was just like...whatever...”

 

“Her threatening to call the cops on you was messed up,” Dominique confirms, sipping water.

 

“Right?” Mariana asks.

 

“She claimed to want to know if you were safe, but come on.  It was so obvious that it was about her trying to control you.”

 

“Always,” Mariana adds.  “It’s not new.”

 

“But she has like...what...three kids that are of color?  And she’s a cop herself? And she’s got no problem threatening two of you with jail?  I mean, I can’t with that.” Dominique manages. 

 

“She just...thinks it’s fine.  But nobody’s there saying  _ she’s _ acting out…  Being inappropriate…” Mariana lists.

 

“Right, even though in her case, it would be justified,” Pearl offers.  “Because she  _ is _ out of line.  But instead, she’s abusing her power to micromanage you and claiming  _ that’s _ justified.”

 

Mariana rests her head on Dominique’s shoulder.  “Feels so weird...to be around people who get it?  Who don’t just start yelling? Taking away basic stuff?  Because they don’t like that I’m whatever…” Mariana ventures.

 

“Because they don’t care to notice when you need help.  They don’t support you in helping minimize your stress, so you can calm down.” Dominique points out.

 

“They just make more,” Mariana sighs.

 

“We’ll always help,” Dominique promises.  “We know you’re not what they say. We won’t yell, or take away basic stuff.”

 

Mariana sighs again.  “I let Fran down...so hard…”

 

Dominique and Pearl are silent.

 

“It’s like…  ‘What kind of a sister are you?’” she asks, rhetorically.  “She’s little. A baby. And I just..left her with them. After everything on the playground last year.  After Stef threatening her.”

 

“I bet you...knowing Stef...and knowing Lena...in the way I know my own mother?” Pearl offers.  “That they made sure you went to therapy. They may not have known that they were gonna find what they found in Fran’s bag.  They may not have planned to verbally and emotionally and physically abuse her, but they did.  _ They _ did it, Mariana,” Pearl insists, gentle.

 

“Yeah, but I’m her sister,” Mariana objects.  “I’m her big sister, and I’m supposed to be there.”

 

“I know,” Pearl nods, sad.  Mariana knows she’s thinking about Levi being little and being hurt, before she even knew about him.

 

“I know how they are and I just left her with them?” Mariana insists.

 

“You didn’t do this, Mari,” Dominique tells her.  “Your moms made sure you were out of the house, and then they made the choice to drag Francesca after they found out what they found out, instead of handling it like adults and having a conversation with her.  Asking her if she has any questions about her bio dad.”

 

“Yeah, well, they’d never do that.  Not anymore…” Mariana remarks, bitter.  She turns desperate eyes on Pearl. “Does it get better?  The sister-guilt?”

 

“Seeing him doing well helps.  Being able to support him now and be away from my mom helps, too.  So, I think, the thing to do is...hold onto hope that someday..when Levi and I are in California too, full time, and Fran is an adult, we’ll all be just down the hall from one another.  No mothers to interfere or judge.”

 

“That sounds so far away…” Mariana ventures.  “And so impossible…”

 

“Hey, Jesus and I already live here.  So that’s like a third of The Avoiders right there.  So we just need the rest of y’all to move in when you can and we’ll be set.”

 

“I don’t know if it could really happen…” Mariana tells them again.  “Like...right now everything just feels so…”

 

“Bleak?” Dominique offers.  “Yeah. Felt that way for me, too.  Not in the same way, but I did think living on my own wasn’t gonna happen.  And living with my dad full time, even with my mom around was...difficult...for different reasons, obviously, but…”

 

“And I lived...with my mother...who is very much like Stef...until I was twenty-four,” Pearl offers grimly.  “It was beyond hard, and I resigned myself that I was probably going to live there forever..until I stumbled onto a website for service animals and decided to look into it.  Gracie was my way out. And we can be yours.”

 

“I still can’t leave ‘til Frankie’s of age...and that’s…  I can’t imagine surviving one more day there. Much less seven years.  And I wouldn’t want her to go back there, either.”

 

“Well, I’m working on a plan.  So don’t give up hope, yet…” Pearl encourages.  

 

“Does it involve taking us back to Minnesota with you?” Mariana asks wryly.

 

Pearl’s laugh explodes out of her.  It’s a great sound. “Oh, don’t I wish,” she says, leaning against Mariana, too.

 

So, she’s surrounded.   
  


But in a good way.


	62. Avalanche

Stef’s been on patrol with Mike for an hour.  They’ve stopped for breakfast burritos and coffee.  The usual. But something’s going on with Mike. He’s edgy.

 

Something must be going on with Brandon.  Mike’s tells give him away every time. Still, Stef has enough going on at home with Frankie and Mariana.  She doesn’t have it in her to deal with one more kid in any kind of crisis right now, so she doesn’t push. She eats her burrito in silence.

 

It buys time.  But eventually, Mike breaks first:

 

“Head’s up.  You didn’t hear this from me, but word is that May at Child Services received an anonymous report of child abuse.”

 

“On who?  You know what?  Don’t answer that.  I don’t need to be in the middle of any gossip like this.  God knows, I’ve got enough of my own.”

 

“That’s the thing, Stef…  The report… It was against you and Lena,” Mike tells her.

 

Stef turns toward him, gaping.  “Is this about the picture thing?  Are people still up in arms about that.  Mike, it’s been months. Lena took them down.”

 

“No...this was...different, I guess.  I heard from someone that heard from someone that it’s about something else.  Listen, there’s not enough evidence for it to even get screened in...but I just...I thought you’d wanna know…”

 

Stef draws a deep breath.  “Listen, did any of your  _ someones _ happen to get a beat on where this  _ anonymous report  _ came from?”

 

“No.  Sorry.  Listen, is everything okay at home?” Mike asks, seeming genuinely concerned.  It’s enough to make her laugh out loud. Mike’s hardly been father of the year.  He’s one to talk.

 

“Everything is fine at home,” Stef offers stiffly.

 

But Stef knows...the minute she gets home...she has to talk to Lena.

 

\--

 

Lena is swamped with work when the main secretary, Connie, sticks her head in the office.

 

“Ma’am?” Connie asks.

 

“What is it, Connie?” Lena wonders.  Seriously. What can’t wait?

 

“I just thought you’d like to know that Francesca’s not in school today,” Connie says, apologetic.

 

Lena glances up sharply.  “What do you mean _ not at school _ ?” she presses.  Her heart rate picking up.  “Since when?” (The last time one of her kids wasn’t at school, Lena had not been notified until it was too late.)

 

Apparently, seeing the panic in Lena’s eyes, Connie rushes to explain.  “Oh, nothing like that. Jesus called this morning and excused her, that’s all.  Said she wasn’t feeling well.”

 

Lena goes from panicked to angry in a flash.  “And you let him get away with that? He is not her guardian, Connie!  I am!”

 

“I know and I’m sorry.  I just thought, in case you didn’t know…  If it were my kid, I’d want to know, you know?” Connie babbles nervously.

 

“It’s 9:30 in the morning, Connie.  School’s been in session for an hour and a half.  She’s already missed physical education. And if any of my kids need physical education, it’s her…”  Lena blows out a breath. “Listen, it’s fine. Just...don’t let my son hoodwink you again.”

 

Connie blushes, embarrassed.  “He’s very charming.”

 

“Yes, so I’ve been told…” Lena remarks wryly.  “Can you let Timothy know I’d like to see him as soon as possible?”

 

“Of course,” Connie agrees, eager to make up for her gaff.  

 

\--

 

“... _ Does not meet the criteria _ …” Michael mutters to himself while reading the email on his laptop screen.  “ _ Thank you for your concern.  Please don’t hesitate to report again if you suspect _ …”

 

“Damn it…” Jaimie curses.

 

“We knew it was a longshot, babe…” Michael says, regretful.

 

“I know, but I was hoping that somehow…” Jaimie manages.  “That means they have to go back. I know Fran and Mariana are staying with Dominique and Jesus right now, but this means they have to go back into that house.”

 

“I know,” Michael nods.

 

“What are we gonna do?” Jaimie asks, putting her arms around Michael.

 

“I don’t know…” Michael answers.  “She asked all kinds of questions about the video, Jaim.  What happened? What did I see in it? Did I see the abuse happen?  Even though it was deleted, she was still interested. But because it was shot from Francesca’s point of view and I never actually saw Lena slap her, it was like it was a moot point…”

 

“That’s really frustrating...and then I wonder...should we have included that she was self harming?” Jaimie wonders.  “Would that have communicated the level that this was affecting her?”

 

“There’s nothing we can do about it now, babe,” Michael tells her, kissing Jaimie’s temple.  “All we can do is be there for them. Sounds like Levi and Pearl are visiting, too. That should help.”

 

“I know.  I just wish we could do more…” Jaimie sighs.

 

\--

 

Connie, the secretary, manages to get Timothy in Lena’s office in minutes.  

 

“Connie said you wanted to see me?” Timothy asks.

 

“Yes.  Please close the door,” Lena answers shortly.

 

“Am I...being fired or something?” Timothy asks, nervous now.

 

Lena cuts right to the chase.  “You met Francesca? You know that’s against the contract.”

 

“I didn’t seek her out.  Mariana came to say hi right after school started.  Francesca was with her. I didn’t speak to her, Lena.  I didn’t plan it, I swear to you.”

 

“But you didn’t feel the need to let me know?  That my daughters were meeting up with you?” Lena says, getting angrier.

 

“Lena, former students come back all the time.  Especially if they have siblings at Anchor Beach.  It’s not that uncommon. I didn’t breach any etiquette here.  I didn’t break the contract. The door was open the entire time.  Anyone walking by could vouch for me.”

 

“Anyone walking by wouldn’t know the history, Timothy!  That you’re not just her teacher! You’re her…”

 

“What?  Her sperm donor?” Timothy asks, hurt.  “I know what I am, Lena. You and Stef and your contract have made that perfectly clear.  Now if there’s nothing else, I’d like to get back to my class.”

 

“If she tries to see you again, I need to be notified,” Lena insists at Timothy’s back.

 

“Alright,” he offers stiffly.

 

“Immediately,” Lena presses, still feeling the slap-cheeked heat of humiliation at being the very last person to know that her daughters were conspiring behind her back about this.

 

“Understood,” Timothy nods, and makes his way out the door.

 

\--

 

Stef decides that this can’t wait until after work and stops by Lena’s office with lunch.

 

“Honey, it’s so good to see you, but I’m swamped.  Not to mention, Frankie didn’t show up for school today, and I had to read Timothy the riot act and remind him of the contract he signed.”

 

Struggling to keep up, Stef hones in on one specific detail:  “What do you mean, Frankie didn’t show up for school?”

 

Lena glances up, and Stef knows how she must look.  Pale. White-knuckling the take-out bag in her hand.  

 

“She’s fine.  Jesus called and excused her, and apparently somehow convinced Connie to go along with it, even though he’s not her parent.”

 

“Oh, wonderful,” Stef remarks, laughing bitterly.  “Well, just to add to our pile of good news…” she ventures, opening the bag and taking out sub sandwiches.  “You’ll never guess what Mike told me today?”

 

“What?” Lena asks, and it’s clear from her expression that she really can’t.

 

Stef drops her voice.  “He heard through the grapevine that someone reported us.”

 

“For what?” Lena scoffs.  “As if we don’t have enough going on…”

 

“Child abuse,” Stef whispers.

 

Lena actually laughs.  

 

“It’s not funny, Lena.  Mike said there wasn’t enough in the report to warrant an investigation, but we can’t have this.  Imagine if the news picked up on it…”

 

“God, don’t remind me…” Lena moans.  “So, what do we do?”

 

“Well, we can’t have our kids reporting us for child abuse…” Stef remarks.

 

“Did Mike say it was the kids?” Lena asks, horrified.

 

“Well, who else could it be?” Stef wonders.  

 

“I’m more worried about Jesus harbouring Frankie the way he is.  Excusing her from school? I mean, we need to do something. I’m afraid if we go there and insist she come with us, they’d just escalate it.  But I can’t think of anything else we could be doing…”

 

“Well, I did talk to Pearl this morning…” Stef shares.

 

“And?” Lena says.  “What does that have to do with anything?  Did she share more articles?”

 

“Sort of…” Stef ventures.  “She mentioned a workshop for parents of kids with disabilities.  It’s five days. And it’s all kinds of different speakers talking to family members about different aspects of disabilities…”

 

“Stef, we have two kids with disabilities.  Three, if you count Jesus with his ADHD and trauma background.  I think we know a thing or two about disability.”

 

“Well, I do too, Lena.  But maybe this way, Jesus will see that we’re willing to meet them halfway.  We’re willing to do something to make ourselves better parents. We haven’t been to therapy in a while.  I’m not crazy about the idea of going back...but this could be a…”

 

“...A compromise, yeah…” Lena finishes.  

 

“Apparently, this coming Monday is the deadline for early registration, which means we’d get a deal on the price.  So, there’s time…” Stef reassures.

 

“I’ll think about it,” Lena admits, grudgingly.  

 

Stef leans in to kiss her.

 

“Since when do you take advice from Pearl West?” Lena grumbles.  “I thought she annoyed you?”

 

“She does,” Stef admits.  “But if it means getting Frankie back in the house, and putting a stop to the kids doing ridiculous things like reporting us for fictitious abuse, then I’m willing to do it.”

 

Lena finally nods.  “I guess so. And if we did this…  I mean, how many abusive parents would willingly go to something like this?”   
  


“Right.  So we get out ahead of this.  That way, if the report ever does leak, we can be there to say, ‘Look, everyone makes mistakes.  And the person who reported us made an honest one.’ We’ve had plenty of actually abused kids in our home,” Stef points out.

 

“Remember Jude?” Lena remarks, sad.

 

“Poor Jude…” Stef echoes.  “I still can’t forget Brandon coming to me to tell me about all the bruises he saw on him.  Or how, when I asked him about them the next day, Jude insisted he didn’t know how he’d gotten them.”

 

“Our kids don’t know how lucky they are, or how good they have it,” Lena remarks.  “But if we have to be the bigger people here while they have their tantrum, so be it.  I’m not about to turn this into some huge custody thing for the tabloids to devour.”

 

“Oh, Jesus is gonna find out far before then how much work Frankie and Mariana are on a day to day basis.  He’s used to them for a couple of hours, when they’re nothing but happy to see him. Just wait ‘til he gets a taste of reality.” Stef laughs, abruptly.

 

“Maybe we won’t have to go to this workshop after all,” Lena jokes.

 

“Let’s not rule it out…” Stef insists, kissing Lena again. “I need to get back to work.  But I love you. I’ll email you the details so you can look into it. We’ll talk about it tonight.”

 

“Sounds good,” Lena responds, her smile weary.

 

“Oh, how’d it go with Timothy?” Stef asks, turning as she’s almost to the door.

 

“Seems like the girls bruised his ego just as much as ours…” Lena ventures.  “I’m not ready to let him off the hook yet, though. He was the adult here. Though, I did make it clear that if Frankie made anymore fact-finding trips to his classroom, I was to be notified, immediately.”

 

“Good thought,” Stef nods.  “I’ll see you later,” she waves.

 

“Bye,” Lena echoes, and turns back to the pile of work on her desk.

 

She sighs, picking up her cell phone and dialing Frankie:

 

_ “Hi, you’ve reached Francesca.  I can’t answer my phone right now, so leave a message after the beep, and I’ll call you back.  Maybe.” _

 

Frankie’s voice mail message had always set Lena on edge a little.  She’d even asked Frankie to change it, and Frankie had sworn she had.

 

Over the last day or so, one thing has come crystal clear: her daughter’s been keeping all kinds of secrets.


	63. Old Friends

Francesca feels better after she, Levi and Jesus get to watch  _ Moana _ together.  After that, they have lunch and then, the best part.  They all decide to go to Avoidance together.

 

“Do you guys think Moms are out looking for me?” Fran worries, crossing the park to their picnic table.  

 

“I don’t think so,” Jesus says.  “They both have work, so…”

 

“So, Pearl, is this, like, yours and Levi’s first real time at Avoidance?” Francesca asks, wanting to think about something other than Moms being creepy.  “Like...I know you were there yesterday, but that wasn’t like, for real, Avoidance…”

 

“Really?” Pearl asks, intrigued.  “What constitutes a for-real Avoidance?”

 

“Well, like, where we’re all there and sharing our feelings and stuff.  Last time, I left because I had to pee and I had too much trauma…” Fran shares.  “It’s not really Avoidance if we’re not all here.”

 

“I see,” Pearl nods.  “That’s a very good point.”

 

“Pearl, the trees,” Levi points.

 

“I know, I can’t believe it,” Pearl sighs, happy.  “We don’t have many pink trees in Minnesota.”

 

“Oh.  That’s sad,” Fran answers.

 

They finally get to the table.  Lunch just happened but Jesus still likes things with food to be the same, so they stop at the Coffee Corner for snacks and frozen hot chocolate.

 

“This is gonna be, like, my second hot chocolate for the day…” Fran tells them happily.  “Levi made me some Pearl’s way this morning…”

 

“Thanks for telling everybody,” Levi teases.  “Now, I’m about to be in trouble with Jesus and Mariana…”

 

“Nah, we like hot chocolate,” Jesus reassures.  “No one will be in trouble.”

 

There’s quiet and then all their heads turn to Mariana, but not in a pressuring way.  Just, like, in case she wants to say something. 

 

“It means a lot…” Mari starts, looking at Dominique and Pearl.  “That you guys were there. And, like, helped me through what happened earlier.”

 

“What happened earlier?” Francesca wonders.

 

Mariana shrugs.  “Stef was an ass…  Do not repeat that,” she warns, looking straight at Fran.

 

“Well, we’re at Avoidance,” Fran points out.  “So stuff we say here doesn’t get repeated anyway, especially not to Stef and Lena…”

 

“But, really,” Mariana insists.  “Don’t.”

 

“I won’t.  I wouldn’t, Mari…” Fran says.  “Promise.”

 

“Okay, so...yeah.  It just… Thank you.  I don’t mean that in the whatever way…” Mari says looking at Pearl and Dominique again.  “Like in the over-steeped way…”

 

Francesca cocks her head.

 

“Thank you, you said?  But you don’t mean it in some kinda way?” Levi asks.

 

“In the way…” Mariana gestures to Francesca.  “You know. Like when people act like...you should be so happy for basic stuff?  Like when that one lady was like, ‘Your mom’s so nice for bringing you food,’” When we were somewhere you and I...couldn’t like...get in and carry plates…”

 

“Yeah, I remember that,” Francesca says wrinkling her nose.  “She acted like I should be super grateful that Stef brought me a plate out.”

 

“So, you’re saying thank you to us for helping you out earlier, but you don’t mean it in an overly-grateful way?” Pearl clarifies.

 

Mariana nods.

 

“We’ll always try to help if we can, Mari.  It’s not a huge thing. Contrary to what Stef and Lena might make it seem like,” Dominique points out.

 

“But that,” Mariana says.  “That’s it exactly. They don’t help.  They make it worse. They make it seem like...I’m too much.  Like, it’s too hard to help me.”

 

“But it’s not,” Francesca offers.  “It’s easy to help you. They’re just peons, right, Levi?”

 

Levi smiles a little bit, but doesn’t call Moms peons.

 

“You’re not too much or too hard to help,” Pearl insists, too.  “And it’s too bad your moms make you feel like you are.”

 

“Fran?”  Mari asks.  “How are you?”

 

Francesca ducks her head and Dominique whispers to her:  “Do you feel ready to share or not yet?”

 

It’s weird how she can just tell when Fran starts to go toward being stuck on high.  It’s like, something about what Moms did made Francesca nervous about a lot of attention and especially, if people wait for her to talk.

 

It makes her so nervous now.

 

She shrugs.

 

“Okay, so maybe, we give someone else a turn?” Dominique asks.

 

Fran nods, feeling her ears get hot.

 

“Jesus?  You okay?” Levi asks.  “I know it’s not your favorite day…”

 

Francesca watches as Jesus takes a breath and blows out a bunch of air.  Dudley is right here with him. “I’m...struggling a bit, honestly,” he says.

 

“I can come sit with you, buddy,” Francesca offers.  “If you want.”

 

“Thanks so much for the offer, buddy.  It’s sweet. But I’m gonna pass for right now,” Jesus says.  Francesca can’t tell if she did something wrong, or if it’s Jesus’s trauma or what.

 

“What about Pearl and Levi and Dominique?” Fran asks.  “None of you guys got to share.”

 

“Well, hang on…” Pearl says gently.  “Jesus? You said you were struggling?  Did you want to say more?”

 

He shrugs.  “Just hate today.  And that it’s hard to, like, stay present?”

 

They all listen, even though it’s really hard for Francesca to hear that Jesus is struggling.  It kinda scares her that he struggles. Because he’s her most protecting person.

 

“And, kinda along the lines of what you were saying, Mari?” Jesus says.  “Part of me feels like…” There’s this huge long silence, while Jesus thinks about talking more or not.  “Like calling up Stef and being like...super-grateful to her?”

 

“What did she do?” Fran asks, curious.

 

Jesus looks at Francesca with so serious eyes.  Like this is not one bit funny. “She came for me.”

 

“So?” Fran asks, before she can stop the word from flying out, and she can see Jesus’s eyes look away from hers.  “Sorry. I don’t mean, so, like so what?” Fran scrambles to apologize.

 

“What did you mean to say?” Dominique wonders.

 

“I meant, like, isn’t that normal?” Francesca tries again.  She breathes. Dominique hands her the green knobby stress ball.

 

“You mean, like, normal Mom stuff?” Levi asks, like he’s inside Fran’s brain with her.

 

“Yeah.  Like, isn’t she supposed to come and get you when you need her?  That’s what I mean. Just like...maybe you don’t need to be super-grateful for a Mom thing she’s supposed to do anyways…”

 

“I don’t know…” Jesus hedges.  “I mean, maybe it was because I hadn’t had anybody come through for me in a long time.  That this kinda feels huge? And always has. Like, I usually make sure to talk to her today. To say thanks at least.  Sometimes I get a card.”

 

Pearl’s making a face like she stubbed her toe.

 

“What?” Levi asks.

 

“I think Francesca makes a good point,” Pearl offers softly.  “I mean, you do what you need to do, obviously. But...it just feels…”

 

“Like she did what any good mother should,” Levi finishes.  “I know if my mom knew I needed her, she’d drop everything and come get me.  And I wouldn’t owe her a card for it…”

 

“But...I mean...you guys don’t get it…” Jesus says, like he’s sorry.  He looks at Mariana. “I think it’s kinda tied to adoption…”

 

Mariana’s eyes light up like their twinbrain is happening.  “Right, like...nothing you could do will ever like...be the same as what she did…”

 

“Yeah, like, no matter what.  I can’t pay her or Lena back enough for saving us.  And then, it’s like, Stef saved me again...so it’s like…”

 

“ _ You _ called _ her _ , though,” Dominique points out softly.   (Francesca has no idea how she knows this.)  “And has she ever said thank you to you? Has she ever gave you a card?  To thank you for finding her?”

 

Jesus looks surprised.  

 

“What?” Dominique asks.  “You saved yourself, Jesus.  No disrespect to Stef, but she didn’t have anything to do with it.  You don’t owe her a card or a thank you.”

 

“She just...always lets me know how much it means to her that I remember…” Jesus ventures.

 

“What is she grateful for, though?  Specifically?” Pearl asks. “Because it sounds like she might be grateful for the attention?”

 

“The first year...they tried to do this big thing to like, commemorate the day or whatever?  And I just shut way down about it…” Jesus shares.

 

Francesca’s busy looking at the stress ball and squeezing it and listening a little.  Lots of times when the grown up Avoiders talk, it kinda goes over Fran’s head. Times like this?  She wishes they were all eleven like her.

 

“They tried to have, like, a party, or something…  I remember,” Mariana nods. 

 

“But like...after?  Lena came to me and was like, telling me how hurt Stef was, because she wanted to have a happy memory attached to the day…”

 

Fran glances up.  “But you got found.  That’s already happy,” she points out.

 

“I mean, Fran’s not wrong,” Levi insists.

 

“It sounds like she’s tried to make your trauma about her.” Pearl ventures.

 

“But isn’t it kinda her trauma, too?  She went through a lot trying to find me.  Shouldn’t she get something for that?” Jesus asks.

 

“My parents went through a lot trying to find me, too,” Dominique speaks up.  “They never asked for a pat on the back for it after the fact. They celebrate or they don’t based on how I feel.”

 

“Wait.  You got taken to a bad guy’s house, too?” Francesca asks, mouth open.

 

“Sort of…” Dominique allows.  

 

“How many bad guys are there?” Francesca worries.  “Pearl and Levi and Mariana, no bad guys ever got you and made you come to their houses, right?”

 

“Not in that way, no,” Pearl shares.

 

That doesn’t really help Fran’s question about how many bad guys there are in the world.  It makes her remember her big fear about turning nine. That it might mean being kidnapped.  Because that was Jesus’s age when it happened to him. But Fran feels like she can’t really say all that right now.

 

“It just kinda freaks me out not to acknowledge her part in getting me back,” Jesus says.  “Because, like, will she think it wasn’t worth the trouble? You know? If I’m not grateful enough?”  He looks worried.

 

“It was,” Mariana says.  “And it wasn’t trouble. You’re worth all of it.  Everything. You don’t have to prove Stef made the right choice by driving out to get you.”

 

“But my anxiety is seriously through the roof at the thought of not doing it,” Jesus admits.

 

“Because why?” Fran asks.  “You think they’ll maybe send you away?  They can’t do that anyways, because you’re grown up.”

 

“I mean, I know that...but inside...about this?  I still kinda feel thirteen. I know that doesn’t make sense.  But a lot of bad stuff was possible when I was that age, so…”

 

“We can protect you, though, right, Avoiders?  So Stef can’t do anything or get mad about no card and no thank you,” Fran offers.

 

“Definitely,” Pearl nods.

 

“What do I do, though?” Jesus asks.  “How do I channel this feeling, so it doesn’t eat me alive?”

 

“Is there anybody who you could legitimately thank?” Levi wonders.  “Somebody who really did play a role in all this that you wanna acknowledge?”

 

“Ooh, that’s a good idea,” Pearl says.  “Someone who you don’t feel obligated to thank out of fear?”

 

“I don’t know…” Jesus shrugs.  “There’s maybe Officer Saunders, I guess?”

 

“You know her address?” Dominique asks.

 

“I don’t have it on me, but I can text her,” Jesus admits.

 

Francesca watches as Jesus types a little message and then clicks more buttons and shows The Avoiders:

 

**Jesus:**

_ Different table, same face.  Thanks for everything you did to get me home safe. _

 

There’s a picture with it of Jesus smiling at the Avoidance picnic table.  Like a selfie, just of him.

 

They all hear it when Jesus’s phone vibrates back with a text by what Fran figures to be the one nice police officer in California.

 

Jesus reads it out loud so they can all hear:

 

“She says, ‘ _ Just doing my job, but so glad to see that face.  Glad you’re well. _ ’”

 

“Did it help?” Francesca wonders.  “To talk to the nice police person?  To tell her thank you instead of Stef?”

 

“I mean, I still feel like I should thank Stef...but I do feel a little better,” Jesus shares.

 

“Is it the day you met me yet?” Francesca asks.

 

“Almost,” Jesus tells her with a sad smile.  “I got home on the 14th, and I met you on the 15th.”

 

“Oh, man.  So two days away, still,” Francesca objects.

 

“Something to look forward to, though,” Jesus says, like he’s trying his very hardest to be brave.

 

“It is, because I was a safe person for you.  And I accepted you how you came. That’s just like how everybody should treat everybody, right?” Francesca asks.

 

“Yeah, buddy.  I think you’re right,” Jesus smiles just a little.


	64. Monsters in Your Head

“I don’t like it when there’s a lot of attention on me,” Fran blurts when there’s a long silence.

 

“I’m sorry,” Levi apologizes.  “Was there? Do you feel like we’re staring?”

 

“No, it’s not that…” Fran insists.  “It’s...like when somebody calls on me and then is just there, like, waiting for me to talk?  It makes me really nervous because of Stef and Lena on Monday…” Fran confides. 

 

“So, that’s why you couldn’t share when Mari asked you?” Dominique wonders.

 

“Maybe,” Fran nods.  “I didn’t really think about it?  I just knew it made me really nervous all of a sudden like...all the energy got transformed into mad energy?”

 

“Yeah, I get that…” Jesus nods.

 

“Me, too,” Mariana nods.

 

“So, would it work better if you could just interject?” Pearl wonders.

 

“What’s that?” Fran wonders.

 

“Kind of...speak up when you feel like it?” Pearl clarifies.

 

“Yeah…  That would make me feel better because it would take the stress away.  Because when it’s just all The Avoiders waiting for me to talk, it’s like…” Fran sinks down, like she’s going under the table, but doesn’t really.

 

“Well, we don’t wanna make you feel uncomfortable,” Jesus says.  “So, feel free to interject when you want to. And know we always wanna hear from you.”

 

“It’s just...they did that to me…” Fran shares quietly.

 

All The Avoiders just wait.  They don’t talk or ask a bunch of questions to make Fran talk before she’s ready.

 

“They, like, made me talk, but it didn’t matter what I said because they were already so mad so it was just about…  I don’t know…” Fran manages. “Grown ups are so confusing.”

 

“Sounds like they maybe just wanted an excuse to yell at you,” Pearl offers.

 

“That’s what it felt like…” Fran nods.  “Like no matter what I said they weren’t really hearing me anyway.  They didn’t even really care what I said, they just wanted to tell me I was theirs and not his.  And that--” Fran stops herself.

 

“Buddy?  You okay?” Jesus checks.

 

“I just...don’t know if I’m allowed to say…” Fran says, looking at Mariana.

 

“You can say,” she nods.  “It’s safe with The Avoiders now.  You don’t have to keep things in.”

 

“I just feel like that was wrong?” Fran offers.  “Like...from everything we know about being Avoiders.  And consent and boundaries and all that? And then they were like...just talking about me like I was a toy.  I didn’t like that.”

 

“It doesn’t feel good when someone doesn’t treat you like a human being,” Jesus comments, quiet.

 

“I tried to remind them I really was a human but that’s when Lena got really mad and…” Fran feels her ears get hot again.  “Treated me even worse…” There’s silence for a minute. “That was one of those times it was dangerous to talk, right?” Francesca checks with Mariana.  “Like we were saying? At school?”

 

Mariana nods.

 

“Only I didn’t know that…” Fran admits.  “So, it’s not fair that that happened to me, I don’t think.  I think Stef and Lena should know better. Just between us. So, don’t repeat that, okay?  I’m serious,” Fran says, remembering Mariana’s words to her.

 

“We won’t,” Levi promises.

 

“What happens in Avoidance stays in Avoidance.  Even if it’s a safety thing,” Dominique reminds Fran.  “Then we can tell my parents.”

 

“And that’s okay, ‘cause they’re Avoider-Mom and Avoider-Dad,” Fran nods.  “And they were nice to me about my safety stuff and didn’t make me feel bad about it.”

 

“I’m glad,” Dominique answers.

 

“I know I already got a turn to talk…” Jesus says.  “But, like… What Fran’s saying about not being treated like a human?  I just...really relate to that.”

 

“Do we wanna raise our hands for who else really relates to not being treated like a human?” Fran wonders.

 

And she is so surprised to see Jesus, Mariana, Dominique, Pearl and Levi all raise their hands.

 

“Whoa.  So, all of you know what that feels like…  And so maybe you know… Did I do the right thing?” Fran wonders.  “I mean, obviously probably not because of what Lena did but...what are you supposed to do when someone says that, and they have more power than you?”

 

“That’s a tough question,” Pearl says.

 

“That’s a thing grown ups say when they don’t want to tell kids the truth,” Fran points out.

 

“It’s why I squeeze your hand,” Mariana points out.  “Because the best way I know to deal with that? Is to just be quiet until I can leave and go somewhere that is safe.”

 

“Like here?” Fran asks.

 

Mariana nods.

 

“I wanna be able to tell them the truth and for them to listen to me,” Francesca says, feeling more tears build.  She’s so sick of crying. 

 

“And you should be able to do that,” Levi tells Fran gently.  “You should have parents you can talk to, who listen to you.”

 

Dominique puts an arm around Francesca and hugs her.  

 

“Someone else talk,” Fran says and it sounds like she’s pouting, but she’s really not.

 

“Well…” Dominique begins.  “I’m really loving having all the Avoidance girl power in my apartment.  And I think Roberta likes it, too,” Francesca can hear Dom smiling.

 

“Is she allowed out?” Levi asks.  “Roberta? Because I respect the Avoidance girl power zone and all, but I really wanna sing to your cat, if that’s possible.”

 

“She comes to my parents’ house sometimes,” Dominique admits, still hugging Fran like it’s normal and no big deal.  “And they’ll definitely wanna meet you and Pearl.”

 

Fran watches as Pearl gives Levi a worried look and then looks away.

 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Dominique says, but Francesca can tell her feelings are hurt a little.  It’s like a tiny bit of sadness leaked into her voice.

 

“It’s not that,” Pearl says.  “I’ve heard nothing but great things about your parents, and I do want to meet them, but meeting people’s parents is still relatively new for me?  It was hard enough meeting Levi’s mom.”

 

“But that turned out okay, right?” Levi reminds her.  “She really likes you and we have fun…”

 

“We do, but it’s not something I’m totally used to yet.  Still makes me pretty anxious.” From Pearl’s lap, Cleo licks her.  It’s like she can understand human words. “Our dad was great, but I didn’t have him for long…  He was just gone...by the time I was four.”

 

Francesca barely has any memories of being four.  But she wishes she had some of Timothy from then. Some memories of your bio dad are better than none.

 

“So, it makes sense that you’re nervous,” Mariana offers.

 

“It’s just..if you’re okay, Levi…” Pearl ventures.

 

“You can talk about her,” Levi nods.  “Jesus? Dominique? Everybody else okay?”

 

“As long as it’s not too specific…” Jesus admits and Dominique nods.

 

“I was just gonna say that my only other parent, needless to say, wasn’t the kind that I was comfortable introducing friends to.  And I rarely spent time at other people’s houses aside from academic reasons. Like, if I had to work on a school project with kids in my class,” Pearl clarifies looking at Fran.

 

“And it’s the other stuff, too, right?  How she treated me? And how she treated you?  That’s your context for a parent. So meeting other Avoider parents doesn’t feel very safe.” Levi points out.

 

“Well, Lena and Stef aren’t very safe,” Fran grumbles.  “So, don’t worry, we won’t make you go meet them again.”

 

“But my parents are,” Dominique puts in.  “So, if you feel okay about it, maybe we could set something up?  While all of us are here? We’d all go, so it wouldn’t be just you, one-on-one with them,” Dominique reassures.  “I mean, if everyone else wanted to go.”

 

“I mean...I guess it’d be okay, if we all went?” Pearl asks.  “Is Cleo welcome?”

 

Dominique nods.  “Look out, though.  My mom might go all dog-happy if she sees how adorable Cleo is…  She won’t pet her, you just probably wouldn’t hear the end of it…” Dominique smiles.

 

Cleo turns and blinks at Dominique.  Like she just knows she got called adorable.

 

Fran sits up and asks Pearl, “Does she understand human?  Because it really seems like she can.”

 

Pearl laughs and nods.  “She does know some words.”

 

“Like adorable?” Fran wonders.

 

“Like her name,” Pearl corrects with a smile.  Some basic dog words,” Pearl glances at Dominique.  “Honestly, though, just knowing Cleo’s welcome, makes me feel a lot more at ease.”

 

“Cleo’s an Avoider.  Of course she’s welcome,” Fran says.


	65. Echo

“Levi?” Pearl asks.  “You look worried. Are you okay?”

 

“I don’t know…  I guess it’s just...I always get nervous when you’re about to share about her?  Even though I say it’s okay, and it  _ is _ okay…”

 

“You still get nervous?” Pearl asks.

 

“Yeah, because...and I get that this is, like, so mean, but I get really worried that you’re gonna say positive things about her.  Or that you really miss her and are sad not to be in contact…”

 

“It’s not mean,” Pearl reassures.  “I know that’s a legitimate fear for you.  That I’ll choose her over you. But I won’t.  I don’t miss her. There’s nothing about her to miss, honestly.  I’m glad every day that I get to live with you instead.”

 

“You don’t have to say that…” Levi denies ducking his head a little.

 

“I do, because it’s true,” Pearl says gently.

 

“So, what about your trip to California?” Francesca wonders.  “How was that? Did you ever fly on a plane before?”

 

“I have,” Levi nods.

 

“I haven’t,” Pearl tells them.  “So that was a little nerve-wracking, but I made it through.  Lots of self care and support from Levi and Cleo. We got here okay, didn’t we?”

 

Levi nods.

 

“You seem way more at ease here,” Jesus points out, looking at Pearl.

 

“Yeah, I wondered if that might not be the case,” Pearl responds.  “There was a time I was practically agoraphobic,” she glances at Fran, “That means, I was really afraid to go outside of my cabin.  Especially afraid that I might see people.”

 

“Like your trauma?” Fran wonders.

 

“Yeah,” Pearl nods.

 

“But now you’re seeing us.  And your trauma probably doesn’t even live in California, so that’s good news,” Fran brightens.

 

“You’re right about that.  It does make me feel better knowing I don’t have to worry about that.”

 

“You know...if y’all moved out here...you could kill two birds with one stone,” Dominique offers.  “Stay away from both traumas.”

 

“That’s so tempting,” Pearl smiles.  “But there’s a lot I’d need to do before that could happen.”

 

“But maybe since we’re here we could look into it?” Levi asks.  “Like, do some research on Gateway and stuff. See what we’d need and all that?”

 

“Ew, adulting…” Fran wrinkles her nose.

 

“Not really ew if that means Levi and Pearl get to live here eventually,” Mariana points out.  

 

“That would be pretty amazing,” Jesus nods.

 

“So, I don’t know how comfortable you are, Fran, about me talking about Stef and Lena…” Pearl ventures.

 

“I don’t care, as long as you don’t say they’re really nice.  Like what Levi said.” Fran waves a hand.

 

“So, I wanted to share that when I called and spoke to Stef this morning...I did put a bug in her ear about--”

 

Francesca guffaws.  “You put a bug in her ear!  Oh gosh, that’s so funny!”

 

Levi can’t help joining in the laughter.  The image of Pearl actually putting a bug in Stef’s ear is too good not to enjoy.  Everyone else seems to agree.

 

“Not a literal bug, Francesca,” Pearl smiles.  “To put a bug in someone’s ear--”

 

Fran snickers until she chokes.

 

“You okay, buddy?” Jesus asks, patting her on the back.

 

“I choked on my spit…” she wheezes.  “I’m totally fine. Keep going.”

 

“--Well, that means I dropped a little suggestion or a hint for Stef and Lena about a thing they could do that might make them better parents.  I don’t know if they’d be on board with it, but I thought it was worth a try.”

 

“What’s the thing?” Jesus asks.

 

And Pearl launches into the explanation of NAUWU’s workshop for parents of kids with disabilities.  How she’s stayed in touch with the little boy Fran met here’s dad. And how Pearl is totally plugged into the site he writes for and saw details about the workshop there.

 

Mariana wrinkles her nose.  “I...really don’t think they’d go…”

 

“Did Stef yell at you?” Fran wonders, eyes big.  “She always yells at me when I say anything like she’s not a safe person, or she should treat me and Mari better.”

 

“Well, she definitely wasn’t happy about the suggestion,” Pearl admits.  “But I messaged her the details on Facebook and it says she read them. And..it looks like she just asked me again about when the deadline for early registration is…” Pearl says, raising her eyebrows.

 

Levi glances at Mariana, who looks guarded.  More stunned than happy.

 

Fran is equally muted in her reaction.  “They probably will find some reason to not go…”

 

“Well, let’s wait and see…  It’s still a ways away yet. Dominique?  You haven’t said much. How are things for you?”

 

“I don’t know what’s up with my parents, y’all…” Dominique admits.  “They’re all quiet. Dad’s not sending me Polos about what he’s baking.  Something’s up, but they’re not talking about it. I asked, and they said they’d tell me if they can, like, later…”

 

“Do you think they’re mad at me?  You know? That I stayed over?” Fran asks.

 

“No, babe, I don’t think that’s it at all.  Just sounds like some grown folks’ stuff. You know, the same way we keep stressful stuff from you?  They keep it from me, too. ‘Cause I’m their kid.”

 

“They’re protecting you, huh?” Fran asks.

 

“I think so,” Dominique nods.  “So I don’t think it’s anything you need to worry about.  I just wanted to share, because it was on my mind.”

 

\--

 

Jesus glances across the table at Mariana.  What could Michael and Jaimie be keeping from Dominique?  And why would Moms all of a sudden be up for a workshop that they’d normally not even look twice at?

 

Mariana looks suspicious, too.  This is all just too weird.

 

It doesn’t take much today to get Jesus on high alert, and now he’s there.  Texting Officer Saunders had helped a bit, but now he’s back to being super desperate about the idea that he should definitely text Stef.

 

What if she got even madder and took it out on Mari and Fran?

 

“What’s up?” Levi asks, looking at Jesus.

 

“It’s just...I’m back around to thinking I should text Stef…” Jesus admits.

 

“No,” Fran whines.  “She didn’t even do anything.  She just came to get you like a normal mom.  If you came to get me from a dangerous place, you wouldn’t expect me to say thanks every single year.  That’s weird, Jesus.”

 

“Okay, okay…” Jesus says, anxiety climbing even higher.  “Listen, I gotta take Dudley for a walk for a bit. Pearl?  Does Cleo wanna come?”

 

“Sure, Cleo would love a walk,” Pearl says and Cleo’s stubby tail wags in agreement.

 

\--

 

Pearl easily falls into step beside Jesus.  They have the same pace. It reminds her of an early-morning walk she once took with Jesus seven years ago.  There’s a similar energy.

 

She doesn’t speak, knowing there’s power in their silence.

 

“I just...can’t handle the whining…” he admits, quiet.  “Not today. Well...not really any day? But especially not today…”

 

“I remember you don’t like a lot of noise,” Pearl offers.

 

“Yeah, well, this is a pretty specific kind of noise.  He hated whining…”

 

It takes Pearl a moment to catch onto the subtle stress Jesus puts on the word  _ he,  _ and to remember that when Jesus uses the word this way, he means his abductor, not any other male.

 

“So, it puts you on edge to hear it?” Pearl asks rhetorically.

 

There’s silence.

 

“I know the thing with Stef doesn’t make sense.  I know that. I get that it’s irrational, but like…”  Jesus pauses and breathes. “Whatever feelings you have toward your mom.  At the end of the day, she’s still your mom? And however crappy home is? If you spent over four years somewhere even more crappy?  I guarantee you, you’d be relieved to see her. Whatever your history.”

 

“I believe you,” Pearl nods.  

 

She lets the silence grow some more and then offers:

 

“Francesca’s young right now.  It’s hard for her to see nuance.  That doesn’t mean it was right for her to call your feelings about Stef weird…”

 

“You caught that, huh?” Jesus asks, his voice a little thick.

 

Pearl nods.

 

“You don’t know...how shitty I feel...that I’m, like, walking around, feeling like I owe her.  Especially after the way she’s treated Mari and Francesca...and me… It’s like why should I owe her anything?  Like Fran says.”

 

“But if you have a choice between bad and less bad?  You’re always going to pick less bad,” Pearl points out.  “It’s not the same but...what Levi said about my mom…”

 

“She’s your mom.  Of course you miss her,” Jesus nods.  “Hell, I even find myself missing Ana sometimes.  Thinking about the life we could’ve had. She’s got a daughter now, you know?  So, Mari’s and my half sister, I guess? Isabella? She’s seven. Ana’s got it together now.  She’s married and whatever, so… Bella’s got the life that Mari and I always kinda dreamed we’d have.”

 

“That sounds like it’s beyond confusing,” Pearl muses.  “So many feelings...and I...miss...things...about my mom...but I don’t know that I miss her.  Like, I miss the food.”

 

“Oh my God, yes, the food,” Jesus nods.  “She had the cheapest food, because you need money to buy food...and like...some of it I can’t touch to this day, because the memory is tied to Ana...and to him...but some of it?  I eat it, and I just feel at home? Which is weird, because physical places...people...never really gave me that feeling. Not until The Avoiders…”

 

“My mom used to make this lasagna.  And it was so good. It was probably just a box recipe?  Nothing special about it. Noodles, cheeses, sauce, cottage cheese, some meat, but God, it was good.  I miss that lasagna…” Pearl says, honestly, blinking back tears. “Look at me, crying over food…”

 

“If it’s from a box, maybe you could find it again?  Make it?” Jesus offers.

 

“I mean, maybe…  But I know I need to be careful of Levi.  Since one of his major triggers is those cookies she used to make…” Pearl ventures, drying her eyes.

 

“That’s right…” Jesus nods.  “Well, I’ll keep thinking. But you know I get how food is.  How it can be tied to you. To memories,” Jesus extends the arm closest to Pearl and she finds herself walking nearer, nodding, until he puts that arm around her shoulders.

 

They keep walking.

 

\--

 

Mariana sighs.  She’s a little jealous that Dom and Levi have gotten up to stretch their legs and walk around - even though Mari doesn’t have extra energy to just walk around when she feels like it.  Because that means she’s stuck at the table with Francesca, who keeps asking what she did to make Jesus leave.

 

“What did I even do?” Fran asks for the second time in as many minutes.

 

“Do you really want me to answer that?” Mariana asks.

 

“Did I really do something?” Fran pushes back.

 

“I mean, yeah,” Mariana nods.

 

“What?  Mari, you weren’t supposed to agree with me,” Francesca pouts.

 

“I’m sorry.  I can’t read your mind.  Next time say no,” Mariana advises.

 

“Seriously, what did I even do?” Francesca presses.

 

“Are you serious?” Mariana insists.

 

“Yes!”

 

“You want an answer?” Mariana double checks.

 

“Yes, Mariana, come on!”

 

“An honest one?” Mariana checks again because, this has been going on for too long.

 

Francesca squeezes her eyes shut and then peeks at Mariana.  “I...guess? I don’t wanna hurt Jesus’s feelings. And I didn’t mean to.  But it seems like I did.”

 

Mariana nods.  “You...kinda got impatient with him?  Over a trauma thing.”

 

“But giving Stef a card isn’t a trauma thing,” Fran objects.

 

“For him, it is.  You got impatient, and you called it weird.  We don’t do that. We don’t judge each other for our trauma.”

 

Francesca slaps her forehead.  “Oh, no…” she moans. “I didn’t know.  I just felt like...weird that he wanted to do something so nice for Stef when she and Lena have been so mean to us…”

 

“I know.  It’s confusing.  But Jesus is...it’s confusing for him, too.  He’s trying to deal with it. But getting impatient and calling him weird isn’t gonna help.”

 

“So, I should find him and say sorry,” Fran decides, getting off the bench and walking away.  “And try not to hate myself…” she mutters under her breath.

 

“Hey.  Come here.  Fran,” Mariana insists.

 

“What?” she sighs heavily.  

 

“Come sit,” Mariana invites.

 

Fran does, even though it looks like the last thing she wants to be doing.  

 

“Don’t hate yourself,” Mari says seriously.  “I know...from experience? It really doesn’t help.”

 

“But it’s so easy,” Fran worries.

 

“I know.  But everyone makes mistakes.  So wait with me ‘til Jesus comes back.  Say sorry.”

 

“Then what?” Fran asks.

 

“Learn.  To be better next time,” Mari says, thoughtful.


	66. Lost Boy

Dominique and Levi walk a good distance away and find a bench, facing Avoidance.  It’s where Dominique often comes with Fran if she needs a break.

 

“So, what gives?” Levi checks.

 

“What gives what?” Dominique asks.

 

“What’s the deal with your parents?  Or like...whatever’s going on with you?” he presses gently.

 

“There’s nothing going on with me, Levi,” Dominique reassures.  “I’m fine.”

 

“You were, like, wincing, the whole time Jesus was talking about his trauma and getting away and stuff.”

 

Dominique doesn’t say anything for a while.  Then, “You noticed?”

 

“Of course I noticed, Dominique.  We’re friends, right?” Levi asks.

 

“We are,” she offers, guarded.  “It’s just...Jesus and I...what we went through?  It has a lot of similarities...our ages, and being taken and whatever…  But that’s where the similarities end… Jesus has so much support. It’s the damn day he escaped, and everybody’s here for him.  Everybody knows when it is, and they drop everything and show up. Do you know how hard that is? Do you have any idea?”

 

“No,” Levi answers honestly.

 

“Jesus gets this kind of support - not just today - but every single anniversary he has.  And…” Dominique’s voice breaks, mortifying her.

 

“And you don’t,” Levi finishes.  “That’s not fair.”

 

“It’s fine, I’m being selfish.  I can deal. It’s just...every time?  And when my traumaversaries roll around it’s like…” Dominique shrugs.  “Maybe Jesus drops off cookies. Maybe Pearl calls. Maybe Mariana stops by.  But he has...like...this collective, consistent show of support…” She breathes.

 

“Do you want that?” Levi asks, confused.

 

“No, and that’s the thing.  I think the idea of having everybody know the details about what I went through is...like...intolerable.  It’s private. It’s mine. It’s not for everybody to know and question and comment on...but at the same time…” Dominique ventures, laughing a brittle, one-note laugh.

 

“It would be nice to have us rally around you in the same way we do around Jesus, even if we don’t know the details,” Levi guesses.

 

Dominique nods.  “Days like this…kinda feel like salt in the most massive open wound, you know?  And it’s not that I’m mad you and Pearl are here. I’m not. I love it, and I do think Fran and Mari and Jesus absolutely deserve support...but…”

 

“But so do you,” Levi nods.

 

“Like...I have my parents.  And I love them. And I appreciate them.  And maybe…” Dominique slows, thinking. “Maybe that’s the piece that they all need to get from us, since they’re not getting that support from Stef and Lena…  God, now I feel even worse… I want support on all fronts, and they’re not even getting it from their parents…”

 

“I think it’s okay...to want support from us, too.  We are your family, too, right? So, it’d make sense if you’re only getting support from part of your family that you’d want it from the rest, too.  I know I’m not one to talk. I don’t know what you’ve been through. But even though it’s similar to Jesus? I don’t think you need to compare where you are versus where he is.”

 

“I imagined him....” Dominique admits, almost to herself.

 

“I’m sorry?” Levi asks.

 

“When I was gone?  Before that? My parents and I had watched the news the same night he went missing...and so I knew...years later, when it happened to me?  There was a kid out there, who was my age. Jesus was missing, too, and so, I kinda talked to him in my head. Kinda like an invisible friend.  I know it’s stupid…” Dominique scoffs.

 

“It’s not.  You were trying to get through.” Levi points out.

 

Dominique nods.  “The thing is...I told myself our experiences were really similar.  Like, more similar than they are. And then...I got away...and I was just barely home from the hospital when Jesus got away...and all the news reports were about him...and I didn’t have any of that.”  Dominique pauses. “I mean...I was unconscious for a lot initially, but do a YouTube search for Dominique Nora Williams? And you get videos my mom and dad posted of me growing up. On their private channel.  Me reading. Singing. Escaping from the damn zombie room with my dad on my last birthday before…” Dominique chokes up and then clears her throat. “Not Dateline interviews. Not news footage of the night I escaped.  No footage of me going into my house hiding under a blanket so news crews couldn’t see me…”

 

Levi listens.

 

“So...then, Jesus gets away...like I did…and he looks different than I imagined him.  And the news gets the story different than what I was convinced had really happened to him…” Dominique admits.

 

“You felt betrayed…” Levi deduces.  “Does Jesus know?”

 

“I mean, he knows I imagined him as a kid, to cope.  He understood that part. But what good would it do to tell him I feel betrayed by something he didn’t even do?”

 

“It might do you some good…” Levi offers.  “Maybe it would help...just to tell him about it sometime.  If you wanted.”

 

“You don’t think it’s beyond rude to pick the worst day of the year for him to be like, ‘Hey.  I’m pissed about all your support and the fact that our experiences aren’t more similar...even though I would never wish mine on anybody…?’”

 

“It’s a start,” Levi ventures.  “You don’t have to tell us everything to have support.”

 

“I don’t even want this kind of support,” Dominique exclaims.  “That’s not even what it is… I’d just...I’d like to have something.  We’re not the same people. I know that. We have different personalities.  He’s open and genuine, and I’m guarded as hell, and depressed and a total mess on those days.  It’d just be nice to have more than just one of y’all check in each traumaversary...when Jesus gets everybody all the time…”

 

“I know, your trauma, your business,” Levi tells Dominique seriously.  “I remember our first conversation about trauma and questions. But I’m just saying?  If you wanted to tell me your traumaversary dates? I’ll mark them down right now, and I’ll make sure the other Avoiders check in with you, too.”

 

“You don’t have to do that.  I can handle myself, Levi,” Dominique insists.

 

“I know that,” Levi nods.  “It’s just...you shouldn’t have to.  Especially not those days.”

 

“Okay, so… October 10th…” Dominique offers, quiet.

 

Levi glances up, startled.  “That was, like, three days ago.  Are you okay?” he asks.

 

Dominique shrugs.  “I mean, other than remembering being grabbed, I was great…” she shares, bitter.

 

Levi types into his calendar:  _ D - check in. _

 

“Put  _ gone _ , too?” she asks, timid.

 

Levi edits the entry so it reads:  _ D - check in - gone.   _ “There were more,” Levi says and waits.

 

“So...August 27th.  That was this day for me.  But it’s also, like...this happened?” Dominique gestures vaguely to her right side, where she was badly burned.

 

Levi types, showing the screen:  _ D - check in _ and then adds, at Dominique’s suggestion:  _ \- back, everything changed. _

 

There’s silence until Levi asks.  “Don’t you want me to include your other one?”

 

Dominique freezes.  “My other what?”

 

“4/26/11?” he asks quietly, reading off the date tattooed on the inside of Dominique’s wrist.

 

Dominique nods.  It’s not that she was trying to leave Taylor’s date out of this, it was just...so raw.  Dominique’s throat burns with tears. She holds out a shaking hand for Levi’s phone and he gives it to her, silent.

 

She flips back a few months until she’s in April.  Goes to the 26th and types:  _ D - check in - grief _ .  And hands Levi his phone back.

 

“Thank you,” Dominique manages.  “You won’t forget?”

 

“I have these repeating annually.  So when they come up, I’m gonna make sure to let the other Avoiders know to check in with you, too.  So you’re not alone with just your parents on those days…”

 

Dominique nods again, wiping her eyes.

 

“You need to talk about the 10th anymore?” Levi asks.  “Because I can listen.”

 

“Just mad...I thought this older girl was my friend, you know?  And then she...she wasn’t...and I always thought it wasn’t gonna ever happen to me, you know?  That I was too smart. My parents prepared me. And they did, but it still happened. But she could’ve just left me alone.  I wish she had.”

 

“I wish she had, too.” Levi nods, somber.  “It’s not your fault she tricked you. Just in case you haven’t heard that…”

 

“And I think I’m coming around to that.  Having Fran in my life is really driving home just how susceptible eleven-year-olds are to adults’ suggestions and whatever.  That’s why I’m more...I just wish she hadn’t involved me at all, you know? I wish I hadn’t been so damn eager to please. Lost me ten months of my life…”

 

Levi raises his eyebrows.

 

“I know it’s not like four years, but…”

 

“Don’t,” Levi stops her softly.  “Don’t compare it. It won’t do you any good.”

 

“It’s hard not to...when Jesus had a damn police officer mother who kept his face out in the news...and meanwhile...the same damn city’s police force is telling my parents that I ran away…  Jesus had everybody looking, Levi. I had my parents. My extended family. That’s it. My dad hung posters.”

 

“What happened to you matters,” Levi emphasizes.  “I’m so sorry you didn’t have the same support as Jesus, because you were just a kid, too.  You deserved help. You deserved to have people give a damn.”

 

“Sorry...it’s just…  It’s like a raw wound?  And with everybody else having their own wounds right now?  It’s like...again...nobody really has time for mine,” Dominique smiles, even though tears still shine in her eyes.

 

“I do,” Levi promises.  “I’m your friend, and I take that seriously.  I know that you’ve been there so much lately for Fran and Mari and Jesus, and that matters, but it’s also gotta be hard when it feels like no one reciprocates?  Or maybe we just don’t give as much back as we get, support-wise.”

 

Dominique breathes deep.  “I will make sure Roberta gets to hear our duet.  Sometime before the week is out.”

 

“I totally wanna meet your parents, by the way,” Levi insists.

 

“Good.  They wanna meet you, too.  Especially my dad. ‘Cause you two talked on the phone once.  So he feels like he knows you, I guess.” Dominique smiles, a little sheepish.

 

“Hey, I’m a big fan of dads.  Especially the good ones. Your mom’s okay, too?” Levi asks carefully.

 

“She is.  She’ll hang back and give you space.  She’s good at taking people’s cues.” Dominique reassures.  She glances at the table to see Pearl and Jesus and the dogs walking back up to Avoidance.  “Should we head back?” Dominique checks.

 

“If you want,” Levi nods.

 

\--

 

Fran rushes up to Jesus and wraps her arms around his waist before remembering that she’s super-violating his boundaries and consent.  “Sorry!” She says rushing to step back. “I’m really sorry. I just wanted to say I’m really sorry, Jesus, and I forgot about no hugging without consent…” Fran worries.

 

“Hey,” Jesus squats down so he can see her.  “Everything’s okay. I’m okay.”

 

He takes her hands and they take some deep breaths, standing up together super slowly.  It takes every concentration cell Francesca has in her brain to do this, but at least all her concentration isn’t on her trauma.

 

When Jesus is all the way standing, he looks like a giant.  But they go and sit down at the table across from Mariana. Dominique and Levi walk up from a little ways away.  Pearl has sat down next to Mariana.

 

“I wanted to say I’m sorry, Jesus, for being impatient about your trauma with Stef and the card.  I shouldn’t have said it was weird.” Fran tells him, looking at the table in front of her.

 

“Thanks, buddy, I appreciate that,” Jesus says.

 

“I just meant that...you wouldn’t want me to do that, right?  For, just basic human stuff, like if you came and got me from danger?  If I gave you a card all the time for it...you’d be like…” she looks at Mari for help.

 

“Concerned,” she fills in.

 

“Yeah, that.  So, I was just trying to say, like that.” Fran explains.

 

“You were trying to tell Jesus you were concerned for him?” Pearl asks.

 

“I was trying to tell him, like…” Francesca finally looks at Jesus.  “When you get upset, _ I _ get upset?”

 

“Ah, you were getting anxious?” Pearl asks.

 

“Yeah.  And like, before you said you were struggling...and I know you have the right to all your feelings.  So this isn’t that. It’s just...when you feel struggling then I feel...like...I don’t know how to say it exactly.”

 

“So, Jesus was struggling and that made you feel something?” Levi checks.

 

“Uh-huh,” Fran nods.  “It was like, Jesus… Okay, I’m not saying you’re not a person.  This is just for explaining.”

 

“I understand, buddy.  You can explain.” Jesus nods.

 

“Well, you know in  _ The Wizard of Oz _ ?  Where the tornado picks up the house?  It’s like, Jesus, I feel like you’re the house around me?  And when you struggle, it’s like the tornado picking up the house?” Fran tries.

 

Jesus looks at Francesca in the eyes.  “Francesca. Even if I struggle the most in the world?  I’m always gonna be the house around you. No tornado is gonna take me away.  I’m always gonna be here to protect you.”

 

“I thought it, like, mattered…” Francesca tries again.

 

“You thought what mattered?” Mariana asks.

 

“Like...grown ups feel stable or whatever.  Then they protect you. If they don’t? Then maybe all that goes away.  It did kinda happen like that on Monday. And like...mostly all the time with Moms.  Sometimes they wanna protect me, like on the first day of school? But otherwise no.”

 

“Safe adults are safe all the time,” Pearl explains.  “Our emotions don’t have anything to do with our ability to protect kids.”

 

“Because even when you yell, you try to protect me,” Fran looks at Mariana.  “And even if you’re scared, you squeeze my hand, so I know not to talk back if it’s too dangerous…”

 

“Right,” Mariana nods.

 

“It’s just so confusing though,” Fran admits.  “Like, how there’s totally different rules with Stef and Lena, and then totally different rules with you guys.  It’s hard to remember.”

 

“I hear you,” Pearl nods.  “It can be really confusing when you’re getting mixed messages from your parent one place, and another kind of message from friends another place.”

 

“It scares me when you struggle,” Fran tells Jesus, glancing at him.  The words finally there. “Because you’re the biggest and tallest. So you protect me the most.  But like, when you struggle it’s like, uh-oh…”

 

“Feels like all that’s up in the air.  I know. We had an unsafe parent, too, before Stef and Lena.  It was a long time ago, but we remember that feeling,” Jesus tells Fran gently.

 

Mariana nods.

 

“I don’t take it personally, and I know you don’t actually think I’m a house,” he cracks a smile at Francesca, making her smile too.

 

“I just...really don’t want you to be mad at me and walk away…” Fran admits.  “I know I deserved it, but...it kinda felt like, see. That’s what happens when you’re super rude.  All your protection goes away.”

 

“I’m sorry, buddy.  That’s not what I wanted you to feel at all.  I needed some space to process my feelings with just one person for a second.  You know how you need to go with just Dominique sometimes? To feel calmer?”

 

Francesca nods.

 

“It was like that.  I was not trying to take away your protection because you were rude.  I left with Pearl, but Mariana was here with you. So you weren’t by yourself.”

 

“Yeah, but that’s just the regular way it is at home, too.  Me and Mari. And we do protect each other as much as we can.  But we still get hurt without a third person around to tell Moms to treat us better…” Fran points out.

 

“Francesca, Moms aren’t here,” Mariana says.  “So, I can protect you. Jesus knows that. He trusts me to protect you.  Do you?”

 

“Yeah.  I do. I’m just so used to them being here.  Like, out of nowhere.” Fran admits.

 

“We won’t leave you unprotected,” Dominique promises.

 

“So, I can always have at least one Avoider?” Fran checks.

 

“Definitely,” Jesus nods.  “One of us will always have your back, buddy.”

 

“Okay,” Fran nods.  “I love backup. Hug?” she asks.

 

“Hug,” Jesus nods.  

 

(Jesus still gives the best hugs.  In case you were wondering.)


	67. Worth Fighting For

“So, what are we doing for dinner?” Fran asks.  “McDonald’s again?” Mariana can see she’s hopeful.

 

“No,” Jesus, Levi, and Pearl all chorus.

 

“What about French Toast?” Mariana offers.  “Like...in a pan? I just need bread. And some other stuff.  But you probably have the other stuff, Jesus.”

 

“Where’s the recipe?” he asks, and Mariana pulls it up on her phone to show him.

 

“Yeah, I have that other stuff.  We could pick up some turkey bacon, and maybe some oranges or something to have with it…”

 

“But bread, though…” Francesca insists, looking desperate.  “Please, can I come to get the bread?”

 

“Sure, buddy,” Jesus agrees.

 

“Can _ I  _ come to get the bread?” Pearl asks, smiling.

 

“Sure, Pearl, you can come, too,” Fran says, magnanimously.  “Do all The Avoiders want to come to get the bread? It could be a family trip.”

 

“I don’t think so.  I’m gonna stay,” Mariana says.

 

“I’ll stay, too,” Levi echoes.

 

“Me, too.” Dominique agrees.

 

“But at least it can be Avoider family dinner, right?” Fran asks.

 

“That sounds awesome,” Jesus agrees.

 

“Fran, I know you love the store, but dinner at 5:00, okay?  So that means I need time to bake it,” Mariana reminds.

 

“So, no sloth-speed shopping,” Fran nods to herself.  “Regular speed?”

 

“Regular speed is good,” Mariana nods.  “Stay with Jesus and Pearl. You have your phone?”

 

Fran holds it up as they walk away from the table and toward Jesus’s car.

 

“Okay, love you,” Mariana calls.

 

“Love you, too,” Fran calls back.

 

“We should go make sure Jesus has all the things…” Mariana ventures.

 

“Oh, hold up,” Levi realizes, jogging after Jesus and talking to him for a few minutes.  Mariana can hear them talking distantly. “Can we get keys to your place.”

 

“Uh, they’re kinda on my keychain with my car key...which I need…” Jesus says guiltily.  “Hang out here and we can go to my place together after. If that’s cool with Mari and Dom.  We’ll all help with dinner, so it shouldn’t take long. What kind of bread you want, Mari?”

 

Mariana wakes up her phone and checks the recipe.  “Italian unsliced.”

 

“Just one loaf?” Jesus checks.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Sounds good.  We’ll be back,” Jesus promises.

 

Mariana waves.

 

\--

 

Jesus is kinda on edge as he enters the local Trader Joe’s with Fran and Pearl.  He hasn’t really thought this through. Trader Joe’s is no Target, but still. Being in a store on this day is enough to make his skin prickle.  The hair on the back of his neck stands up.

 

“You okay?” Pearl checks as they each hold one of Fran’s hands in one of theirs, and Cleo and Dudley’s leashes in their other hands.

 

“I don’t know…  I don’t like shopping…” Jesus ventures, hesitant.

 

“I do.  I can help,” Francesca volunteers.  

 

“Thanks, buddy…  It’s just…” Jesus tries to calm himself down a bit as Dudley alerts at his side.

 

“We need three things,” Pearl reminds.  “That won’t take long. So we’ll stay together.  Or, if you’d rather, Fran and I can run in and get what we need and meet you back in the car…”

 

“No...I mean...I got this.” Jesus shakes his head.

 

“You look like you’re going to throw up,” Fran observes seriously.  “Maybe you should just wait in the car…”

 

“I don’t wanna send you in there alone,” Jesus denies trying to swallow.  It’s impossible because his mouth has gone totally dry.

 

“I won’t be alone.  Pearl’s with me. She knows all about grocery shopping, right?  We just need to get bread, turkey bacon and oranges and then we’ll be right back out here.  You and Dudley can wait in the car. We’ll be totally fine.”

 

“We will be,” Pearl promises.  “This isn’t like grocery stores back home, Jesus.  I can handle this.”

 

“If you’re sure,” he finally relents.  And he and Dudley head back out to the car, Jesus checking over his shoulder every so often, to make sure Pearl and Fran are still together.

 

\--

 

“So, are you guys okay?” Mari asks Levi and Dominique as soon as Jesus, Pearl and Fran are out of earshot.

 

“Yeah,” Levi nods.

 

At the same time, Dominique asks, “What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, you guys left to go talk…  Can I help?” Mariana asks.

 

“It’s just traumaversary stuff,” Dominique shrugs.  “Levi can fill y’all in sometime later. I just...don’t wanna talk about it right now.”

 

“If you’re sure…” Mariana ventures.

 

“What about you?” Dominique asks.

 

“I know Jesus blocked Moms on Fran’s phone, but they still won’t leave me alone.  They wanna sit down face to face and have a talk and I’m just like hell no, you know?  Plus, I have to go to therapy tonight again, or they’ll literally kill me.”

 

“Can…” Dominique clears her throat.  “I know it sounds like I’m being so nitpicky right now, but can you not use that expression?”

 

Mariana blinks.  “Oh. Okay. But like...they’ll be pissed.”

 

Levi nods.

 

Mariana pauses and considers her options.  Dominique seems like she’s already hit her stress limit for the day.  Plus, Mariana asked Dom to go to therapy with her last night. So, Mari checks out Levi.

 

“Um...would you...maybe wanna go with me?” Mariana asks, hesitantly.

 

“Uh, where?” Levi asks, looking startled and lost all at once.

 

“Therapy?” Mariana winces.  “I know it’s not fun and there are, like....so many better places to...hang out...but...I don’t like going alone?”

 

“Sure.  I’ll go with you,” Levi agrees easily.  “Wait. Is it, like, lie on the couch therapy and tell somebody your secrets?”

 

Mariana glances at Dominique.

 

“More like injury rehabilitation,” Dominique clarifies.  “Like someone might have after they broke a bone or something?”

 

“Is it painful?” Levi asks, worried.

 

“I mean...Tomas is an ass...and embarrassing as hell...but otherwise, no.” Mariana shares.

 

“Tomas...is...your therapist, right,” Levi says remembering.  “So, you wouldn’t mind if I saw you...you know...there? Like that?” 

 

“I asked,” Mariana tells him.  “But if you don’t want to, it’s fine.”

 

“No, I do.  I wanna be there.  I just wanna know if you’re really okay with an audience…”

 

“Yeah, I am.” Mariana nods.

 

“You have any problem calling out people’s nonsense?” Dominique asks.  “Because, I know from experience...Tomas is pretty full of it sometimes…”

 

“You’d want me to?” Levi checks with Mariana.

 

“Kinda why I need backup,” she admits.  “He won’t listen to me…”

 

“Yeah.  I can totally do that,” Levi nods.

 

\--

 

Pearl tries to make quick work of finding the groceries Mariana needs for dinner.  First stop is courtesy of Fran, who spots the Caroline’s Carts just inside the Trader Joe’s doors.

 

“I was allowed to use this in Minnesota.  Mariana said. And Dominique and Levi agreed I wouldn’t be in trouble.” Fran points out, her hand on one.

 

“I think that’s exactly why they’re there.  Want a lift?” Pearl asks, knowing that even with her own best efforts to stabilize it, the cart is bound to move with Fran’s trying to get in.

 

Fran nods, and says “Whee!” as Pearl settles her into the cart and double checks Fran’s belt-buckling before they head for the oranges.

 

“I love oranges,” Fran sighs, and Pearl can tell she is a leisurely shopper.  But Pearl picks out six and hands Fran the bag to hold. “Can I smell these?”

 

“Leave them in the bag for right now, please.  We need to stay on track, so we can have dinner, right?”

 

“Can I smell them in the car?” Fran bargains, as she and Pearl pull up next to the bread.

 

“That sounds like a good compromise,” Pearl agrees.  “Italian...what did Mariana say, Francesca? Do you remember?”

 

“Italian unsliced!” Fran announces.

 

“Right.  Thank you.  Here it is, and now, we just need some turkey bacon and we’ll be all set.”  Pearl nods.

 

Fran has her face pressed against the bag of Italian bread and Pearl concentrates on buying their last ingredient and not reprimanding Fran for being a kid.

 

“I love bread so much.  Pearl, do you wanna smell it?” Fran asks.

 

Pearl leans forward and obliges, sniffing lightly.  “Mmm,” she agrees. “That does smell good.”

 

She puts the turkey bacon in the cart with the oranges, letting Fran hold the bread and then goes to check out.

 

“Can we get some Junior Mints?” Fran asks.  “You know, for the car?”

 

Pearl notices how Fran has chosen not to say her brother’s name, this close to a strange cashier.  

 

“Sure,” Pearl agrees, and Fran picks out a box to add to the belt.

 

“She’s so talkative, I don’t know if she needs to be in that cart,” the cashier jokes.  

 

Pearl can feel her hands tightening on the cart handle.  “Well, that’s not for you to judge, is it? It’s for her to judge,” Pearl nods at Fran, who has now fallen silent, holding the Junior Mints.  She’s gotten back and cradling the bread.

 

“You must have your hands full,” the cashier can’t resist adding, as she sends them on their way.

 

“I really don’t, though.  She’s a great kid,” Pearl insists.

 

She walks out of the store fuming.  Lifts Fran down from the cart and holds onto her while she gets her balance.

 

“Can I carry the bag?” Fran asks quietly.

 

Pearl hands it to her, deciding not to warn her about the precarious weight of the six oranges.

 

In the parking lot, she says, “I’m sorry...for what that woman said to you…”

 

“It happens all the time,” Francesca shrugs.  “But Moms never say stuff like you did. They just start blabbing about how I have CP and stuff.  It makes me feel like...shrinking inside…”

 

“Like embarrassed?” Pearl asks.

 

“Yeah, like, because then everyone in line can hear, too.  They all know about my private business and I don’t want them to.”  She pauses. “Do you really think I’m a great kid?” Fran squints up at Pearl in the afternoon sun.

 

“I definitely do.” Pearl nods.

 

“You told that lady not to judge me for using accommodations,” Fran remembers.

 

“I did,” Pearl agrees.

 

“I like that you said that,” Fran smiles.

 

Pearl comes up to the car and waves until Jesus glances over.  Dudley’s in the passenger seat, and Jesus seems a little calmer.

 

Fran climbs in the back and digs in the bag.  “Here, buddy, we got these for ya,” she says, holding out Junior Mints.

 

Jesus smiles.  Swallows. “Thanks, buddy.  That means a lot to me.”

 

Pearl gets in the other side, in back.

 

“Guess what?  Pearl told a peon cashier that I’m a great kid.  And! That she shouldn’t judge me for using a cart if I need to!”

 

“I’m glad,” Jesus nods.  Then, he puts the key in the ignition and drives them back to Avoidance.

 

\--

 

Mariana gets to Jesus’s with not a lot of time to waste.  “This has to bake for almost an hour. So, I need some helpers,” Mariana glances around.

 

“Oh!  Me!” Fran volunteers.  “I’m the best at assisting!  Please!”

 

“Okay,” Mariana smiles.  

 

Levi also offers to help, and so does Dominique.  Jesus and Pearl take the time to walk Dudley and Cleo.  And with all the Avoider backup, they get the French Toast bake in the oven in time.

 

Pearl offers to fry up the bacon, and Jesus says he can slice the oranges.  Levi gets plates and silverware and sets them around while Dominique gets extra beverages from her place across the hall.

 

Soon, they’re all sitting down to eat.

 

“Mmm.  Mariana, this is excellent,” Jesus approves, mouth full.

 

Francesca’s busy squirting half a bottle of syrup on hers.  “It is. Hey, did you guys hear what happened at the store to me and Pearl?”

 

Mariana listens, even though she’s already heard the story.  Knows Fran needs to process the ableism she encounters on a daily basis.  Doesn’t judge her for it. But while Fran’s recounting the story of the cashier again, Mariana’s mulling over something.

 

When Fran’s finished talking, Mariana speaks up: “Can we do the thing?  Like, at the cabin after dinner? Feelings and whatever? I have to go to therapy and Levi was gonna come, as backup.  But maybe after?”

 

She watches as they all exchange glances and nod.

 

“Yeah,” Jesus says.  “That’d be awesome.”


	68. Unsteady

Levi and Mari don’t talk much as Levi’s GPS tells him street-by-street directions to arrive at the gym for Mari’s rehab.  Levi doesn’t push, knowing Mari’s going to have enough to do in a bit.

 

“So, is it okay to have Avoidance Part Two starting at eight?  If Fran has to be up for school the next morning?” Levi finally asks.

 

“I think we should.  She needs it. And we need to know...like...what...hang on…” Mariana scowls as her phone rings an irritating chime.

 

Levi tries not to listen as Mari says, “Mom, what?  Yes, I’m going to therapy, okay? Yes. I’m in the car right now.  No. No! I don’t want you to come. If you come, I won’t be there…  Fine. I’ll come tomorrow to talk. But don’t come tonight. Don’t. Don’t.  Bye.”

 

“You okay?” Levi asks after Mariana hangs up.

 

She blows out a breath.  “I hate them so fucking much, Levi…”

 

“Can you…  If I know what they look like, I can watch for them,” Levi offers even though the thought of it makes his breathing feel shallow and his skin clammy.

 

“They’re not.  They hate it. But they’re making us come tomorrow for talking…” Mariana passes along.

 

“Us, who?” Levi asks.

 

“Me.  Fran.” Mariana passes along, wincing.

 

Levi pulls into a parking spot and offers his hand to Mariana as they walk across the parking lot together.  He doesn’t know the first thing about this, but he’s comfortable following Mari’s lead, as long as her moms don’t decide to actually show up.

 

\--

 

“Guys?” Jesus asks after dinner’s cleaned up.  “I gotta go talk to my person. Fran, you hang out here with Pearl and Dominique.  Do some reading?”

 

“No…” Fran whines.  “We’re gonna do Feelings….”

 

“We are, but we got time before Mari and Levi get back.  So you can get 20 minutes in. You guys could all read aloud to each other or something…”

 

Fran’s about to totally melt down at the mention of anything school-related.  It sets Jesus on edge, but Pearl waves him on. 

 

“Go on.  We’ll take care of her,” Pearl reassures.

 

Gratefully, Jesus and Dudley make their way down the elevator and knock on the office door.  He can see Val in there with a couple other support people when the door opens. “Hey, Val?” he asks.  “Can we talk?”

 

“Sure,” she answers easily.

 

Jesus heads out the back door to the patio.  Val follows him and they both settle in at the table.

 

“What’s going on?” Val asks.

 

“Bunch of stuff…” Jesus admits.  

 

“It’s an anniversary for you today,” she says, no judgment.

 

“Yeah, and my little sis is up in my apartment about to lose her shit because she’s gotta go to school tomorrow and that’s been too much for her to handle lately.” Jesus says quietly.

 

“Okay.  Slow down?” Val asks.  “Are you telling me about a trigger?”

 

“Yeah.  When kids whine, it’s…  It’s not that she’s not allowed to, it’s just…”

 

“It’s a trigger,” Val fills in, matter of fact.  “So, look around for me?”

 

Jesus glances around, not really seeing anything.

 

“What’s one thing you can see?” Val asks..

 

“I had to go to the store again.” Jesus passes along, his voice flat.  “And, it wasn’t a Target, okay? But it was a store. And I didn’t even think about it.  Not until I was in there and then I felt like passing out…”

 

“I hear you telling me about another trigger.  Can you slow down? Focus on my voice? Breathe.  Slow.”

 

Jesus draws in a shaky breath and blows it out.

 

“Now.  One thing you see?”

 

“Outside….” Jesus manages.

 

“We are outside.  That’s great. What do you see outside?”

 

Jesus feels the sun, scorching hot on the back of his neck.  A shovel in his hand. He hears dirt being turned. Sees a grave.

 

“Time,” he calls, breathless.

 

“Okay.  Time. Breathe for me.  Look at Dudley. Can you?”

 

Jesus glances down at the dog with the sweet face whining.  Nudging him. His tag says  _ Dudley _ .  He always did want a dog.

 

“Jesus?  It’s Val.  You’re safe.”

 

Dudley licks him.  Nudges him more. Jesus touches Dudley’s ears.  They feel velvety soft. There’s a patch of fur on the front of his head.  Small and white and shaped like a heart.

 

Jesus blinks.  Right. Dudley.

 

“I think...I was having a flashback…” he offers, his voice hoarse.

 

“That’s okay.  You’re safe now.  You’re not There. You’re here at your apartment, with me.  Your little sister’s upstairs, right? With your friends who are taking care of her?”

 

“Yeah, Francesca…” Jesus offers, still feeling disconnected.  Even the name Francesca conjures a fat little baby smeared with syrup in a high chair.

 

“Tell me who’s with Francesca right now?  What are your friends names? The Avoiders?”

 

Jesus feels more present, hearing about them.  “Yeah...Pearl….and Dominique are there with her.”  Just like that, baby Fran grows up. “Mariana, though…” he glances up, worried.

 

“Why don’t you text her?” Val asks.

 

Jesus freezes.  “I can’t.”

 

“He can’t hurt you, Jesus.  He’s not here. It’s just you and me and Dudley.  You can text Mariana if you want to.”

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Struggling - remind me - where r u? _

 

A response comes immediately.  A picture showing Mariana and Levi - that’s right - they’re at therapy.  Both are smiling, but Mariana doesn’t look too happy.

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Gym.  Therapy.  Be back by 8 tonight. I’m safe.  Levi’s here, too. Not alone. _

 

Jesus breathes a sigh of relief.  

 

\--

 

“Fran, come on, babe,” Dominique encourages.  “Let’s get this reading done.”

 

“No,” Fran insists.  “I don’t even have to.  I wasn’t even at school today.”

 

“I know that,” Dominique says, coming to sit down on the couch near Fran.  “But reading for a few minutes is something you can stay caught up on. And that’s a good thing to do.”

 

“No, it’s not!” Fran shouts.  “Just leave me alone!”

 

“Francesca?” Pearl asks.  “Can you come and talk to me, please?”

 

“Never,” Fran pouts.  “You’re gonna make me read.  Both of you are. And I don’t want to.”

 

“You sound pretty upset,” Pearl offers.

 

“Obvi,” Fran says witheringly.  “I don’t wanna go to school ever again and now I have to read and reading’s for school!”

 

“Okay.  You need some backup right now,” Dominique says.  “Remember this morning? What we said? If you need backup, we’ll be there and help you.”

 

“So, why are you making me read then?” Fran insists blinking back tears.

 

“Okay.  Sit down, please,” Pearl says gently, patting her lap.  “Would you like my lap?”

 

“I don’t know…” Fran hedges.  “I might crush you.”

 

“I’m strong.  Come sit with me.  I mean, if you’re comfortable.” Pearl adds.

 

Hesitantly, Fran goes to Pearl and backs onto her lap.  It feels weird. Not like Dominique’s lap. But Dominique’s here to look at, and breathe with, and it helps.

 

When Fran feels a tiny bit calmer, Dominique says, “We’re not going to send you to school by yourself.  So I don’t want you to be scared about that, okay? And we should have told you.”

 

“But I already had backup at school a bunch of times.  I should be done needing it…” Fran objects.

 

“But you’re not,” Dominique says easily, like she loves Fran so much.  “And that’s okay. We wanna be your backup.”

 

“Can you and Pearl both come?  Because what if Lena tries to make me come to her office?  Then I can’t say no, you know, ‘cause she’s the principal.”

 

Dominique looks at Pearl, eyebrows raised.

 

“I think we could totally come to school with you tomorrow.  Maybe hang out somewhere on campus. Somewhere near your classes, so that you could know where we are, and we’ll be close by if you need us.  But not close enough to hover.”

 

“You would really do that?” Fran asks.  

 

“As long as Dominique feels okay with it,” Pearl adds.

 

“I do.  I like the idea of safety in numbers,” Dominique nods.  

 

They take some more time just sitting and breathing.  Then, when Fran’s ready, Pearl takes Fran’s Kindle and starts reading aloud with Fran still on her lap.  

 

She’s a really good reader, actually.

 

\--

 

It doesn’t take Levi long to realize why Tomas is an ass.  The second it’s time for Mariana to start, and she glances Levi’s way, Tomas is on her.

 

“Mariana, if your friend’s gonna be a distraction, I’m going to have to ask him to step outside.” 

 

Levi clears his throat and steps up.  He remembers something his dad told him once.  About standing in your power. Projecting calm.  Respectfully stating your intent.

 

“I respectfully decline,” Levi tells Tomas, keeping calm, direct eye contact.  Then, Levi turns his attention to Mariana. “I’m not leaving, okay? I’m staying right here.  You don’t have to worry.”

 

Tomas rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t fight Levi on it.

 

Levi can see Mariana breathe a sigh of relief.  He watches as Tomas urges her through various strengthening and balancing tasks.

 

The first time she says “I can’t,” Tomas is on her again:

 

“I don’t want to hear that negative attitude,” he says.  “We say ‘can.’”

 

Levi presses his lips together and steps up beside Mariana, who’s trying to manage three steps with a railing just on her left side.  Thick and hard to grasp.

 

She’s hesitating on the top step, precarious, even with the belt around her waist that Tomas is hanging onto from the back.

 

Levi steps in front of Mariana.  “You need me to spot you?” he asks, wondering if she just needs the security of someone being there.

 

“No,” Mariana hesitates.

 

“Mariana,” Tomas warns from behind her.

 

She reaches for the other side of the railing - on her right.  

 

“No.  No railing,” Tomas insists.  “Your moms have told me that you need to practice going up and down steps without hanging on.  So you can become more independent on your front steps.”

 

“Wouldn’t a better solution be to ask them to put in a railing?  Considering half the people living there need to rely on one?” Levi asks, offering Mariana his hands.

 

She goes for the railing again - the obvious choice - and begins to descend the steps.

 

“Mariana,” Tomas warns, once she’s gone down all three safely, courtesy of the railing.  “Okay. We’re going to do this again.” He angles himself and Mari closest to the railing she can’t use, because it’s on her left side and waits.

 

“Stop,” she says.

 

“I need you to concentrate, Mariana.  Step up.” Tomas pushes.

 

“Dude.  She said stop.  You stop,” Levi interjects, stepping between Tomas and Mariana.  Tomas still has the belt. “Let go of her,” Levi says.

 

“You’re interfering with her healing right now,” Tomas insists, angry, having stepped away from Mariana.  

 

She sinks down on the steps and works to get the belt off.

 

Levi glances Mariana to Tomas.  “And you’re interfering with her safety.  And her consent.” Levi gets down in front of her, just as she gets the belt off and flings it away from her.

 

“I’m done,” she says and walks away.

 

Levi follows.

 

Once they’re in the car, Levi notices Mariana shaking.  

 

“I’m really sorry,” he apologizes.  “Is it always like this?”

 

“Pretty much,” she sighs.  “Except...if no one’s there...or if it’s Moms.  Then I have to…”

 

“You don’t have to.  That doesn’t make any sense for him to make you learn to go up and down steps without a railing when Stef and Lena could literally put one in.  Or hire someone to do it.”

 

Mariana draws a shaky breath.

 

“Are you okay?” Levi checks.

 

“No.  I hate his fucking hands on me.  And the rope leash strangling me…” Mariana wipes her eyes.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Levi apologizes.  “You don’t have to do that anymore, okay?  We can go back to Jesus’s and be with the other Avoiders.”

 

“But...the car…”

 

“You don’t wanna drive yet?” Levi asks, taking in her pale skin.  Her eyes darting.

 

“We could sing to the radio.  If you’d rather. They’re not expecting us to have left yet anyway,” Levi suggests.

 

“What song are you singing?  To the cat?” Mariana wonders.

 

“Ah...I don’t know yet...I hear she likes RENT…”

 

Mariana nods, a small smile on her lips.

 

“So, that might be a safe way to go?” he asks, offering a small smile.

 

“Very safe,” she nods.


	69. Keep Shinin' On

**_Avoiders Support Group Chat:_ **

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Hey, adult Avoiders - Moms want to meet w me and Fran tomorrow :/  I told them I’d come. I don’t want Fran to. Backup? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ I’ll be backup. _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ I’ll be backup for you both.  What time? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Probably around 3:30? _

 

**_Dock Talks:_ **

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Hey, so I was wondering if you might be cool with me meeting your mom?  Maybe we could go tomorrow when Jesus, Mari and Pearl are busy? Fran could go, too (assuming she wants to?) _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Super-detailed, wow. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Yeah, sorry.  Is it too much? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ No, I don’t think so.  We can ask Fran tonight. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ But is it too much, me asking to meet your mom?  Too weird? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ No, it’s cool.  I think she’d like to meet you. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Can I ask something and can you, like, know I don’t mean it offensively? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Yes. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Can you...like...the rest of The Avoiders...not leave me alone with your mom?  It’s not a your mom thing, it’s a trauma thing. Like, even if there was some kind of emergency?  Could we say I could go, too? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Levi, of course.  We won’t leave you behind.  Thanks for telling me. I’m not offended. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ How are you re: 10th feelings?  P.S. Mariana suggested a RENT song for Roberta.  What’s her fav? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ A lot of anxiety.  Worried w/ my parents not being in touch as much.  Like, I tease Dad about how he’s updates me every time he goes to a new room in the house, but like...I’m kinda used to knowing they’re there? _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Good for you to see them tomorrow too then… _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ I guess you’re right, I should check in with them.  They’re usually fine w/ company but I like to give them warning.  They like to know what’s coming. Oh, and Roberta likes Another Day.  Know it? _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Only every word by heart. _

 

**_Williams Family Chat:_ **

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Avoiders Family dinner, Friday?   _

 

**_Michael:_ **

_ If you’re okay my old standby, spaghetti and meatballs.  Oh, nope. No meatballs. Jude’s lasagna? Mariana can eat that, right? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Yes.  So I know this is a lot and you and Mommy prob have a lot going on already but… _

 

**_Jaimie:_ **

_ Hey, babe, what’s up?  Love the idea of Fri nite Avoiders Fam Dinner. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Is it cool if Levi comes over to meet you, Mommy?  He’s got some mom-trauma, and it would set his mind at ease if he could meet you and see that you’re a good mom. _

 

**_Jaimie:_ **

_ I work until 3 tomorrow. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ I’m off this week.  Using vacation time. 3:30 too soon? _

 

**_Jaimie:_ **

_ Sounds perfect. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ And Dad...would it be okay if Francesca came?  Mari, Jesus and Pearl are gonna be busy talking to Stef and Lena, and we don’t want Fran there, or like, knowing about it and stressing out.   _

 

**_Michael:_ **

_ Sure.  Does she need anything specific? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Homework help.  Homework / school has been extra hard lately.  Sorry, I don’t mean to recruit you both for my life stuff you didn’t sign up for… _

 

**_Jaimie:_ **

_ Dominique, we love Francesca, and I’d love to meet Levi.  It’s okay. And getting to see you and all your life stuff is beyond our wildest dreams. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Dad?  Are you okay with all this? _

 

**_Michael:_ **

_ Hey, I’m great at homework.  I’m pumped. You bringing Roberta?  Any other animal Avoiders? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ I think Roberta can stay home tomorrow but she’ll be there on Friday + Dudley + Cleo (most adorable pug EVER Mom.) _

 

**_Jaimie:_ **

_ Dom, you can’t just drop a statement like that on your dog-loving Mom and then not follow it up.  Picture? Please? _

 

**_Avoiders Chat:_ **

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Hey, Pearl?  Just let it slip that Cleo’s like the most adorable dog ever. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Hey dudley is offended _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Sorry, Dudley [dog emoji]  The cutest pug. Dudley’s obviously the cutest lab-beagle mix. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ [clapping emoji] [heart emoji] [dog emoji] _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ She IS the most adorable dog ever, but I’m confused...did you need me for this conversation? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Would you mind if I sent my mom this pic of Cleo I took at the cabin? [attached picture of Cleo, her head resting on the arm of the couch, staring into the camera] _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ That is an adorable picture.  Would you mind if I saved it to my phone?  Feel free to share with your mom.  _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Yes, save it.  And thank you. _

 

\--

 

Pearl ends up reading a lot of Harry Potter to Fran because Mariana and Levi and Jesus are all gone a long time, and because Pearl has a nice reading voice to listen to.  She doesn’t mind pausing to talk about different parts or trying to answer questions or anything. (Pearl has never read Harry Potter before, so Fran asks Dominique all the wizard and magic questions and asks Pearl the more human being questions.

 

Dominique and Pearl have been getting a lot of pings on their phone.  Finally Fran’s pings, too, and she doesn’t feel that left out anymore, getting to talk about how Dudley’s a cute dog, too.

 

Finally, Mari and Levi are back.  Mari looks a little wobbly and tired from therapy.  And Fran goes out to put a K-cup in the Keurig for her.

 

When it brews, it only fills halfway, so Fran adds some milk to it and walks it carefully to the table.  

 

She sets it down by Mariana.  “Didn’t spill!” Fran announces happily.

 

“Thank you,” Mariana tells Fran.

 

“I got you the strongest kind, so I put milk in it.” Fran explains.

 

“Wow.  I won’t be sleeping tonight, I guess,” Mariana jokes.

 

Fran laughs and goes to pull up a chair next to Mari and the cookies and a tall glass of milk that Jesus poured.  (Jesus is back, too.)

 

“So, Fran, Levi and I were wondering if you wanted to come with us tomorrow after school, to my mom and dad’s house.”

 

“Why?” Fran asks, letting her cookie float on top of the milk and get all soggy.

 

“Because Levi hasn’t met them before, and also Jesus, Mariana and Pearl have a thing.”

 

“Is it adulting?” Fran asks, wrinkling her nose Jesus’s way.

 

“It is adulting,” Jesus nods.  “So you’d have a lot more fun with Michael and Jaimie and Dom and Levi.”

 

“Okay, good.  I don’t have to do adulting.”  Fran sits back and drinks her cookie-milk a little.  She doesn’t want the cookie falling on her face. “Oh, guess what Jesus and Dominique and Levi and Mariana?”

 

“What?” they ask, all together.

 

“Dominique and Pearl said they’d be backup for me at school tomorrow,” Fran tells them.

 

“That’s awesome.  I was gonna talk about that with you, but I’m glad you guys have it figured out.”

 

“We do.  We got it all figured out,” Fran nods.

 

“So, homework’s still hard, buddy?” Jesus asks.

 

Fran shifts in her chair.  “I guess. I don’t wanna talk about it.  This whole bad thing started because of school.”

 

“How do you mean?” Pearl asks.

 

“They saw my wrong name on my homework, which is from school and the wrong name came from Timothy.  Also at school. So I don’t like school,” Fran explains, not really looking at any of them.

 

“Does it help, knowing Pearl and I will be there?” Dominique wonders.

 

“Kind of?  But what will you do if Lena sends me a pass or tries to see me or something?”

 

“Well, where’s a place we could hang out that’s close to the sixth grade classes?” Pearl asks.

 

“The library,” Mariana offers.

 

“Okay.  So, Dominique and I can be in the library.  Then, if you get a pass or if Lena comes to the door, you text us.”

 

“Fireworks?” Fran asks.

 

“Yes,” Dominique nods.  “Text us some fireworks.  We’ll make sure to have your schedule, so we’ll know what class you’re in.  And we’ll come and make sure Lena goes away and leaves you alone.”

 

“She’s the principal, though,” Fran explains.  “You can’t tell her what to do.”

 

“As your safe people, they can,” Jesus nods.

 

“Oh, because you’re not her students, and you’re adults, right?” Fran asks.

 

“Right,” Pearl nods.

 

“Hey, Pearl.  Remember when the lady at the store said I shouldn’t ride in the cart?  Because I talked too much?”

 

“I do remember that,” Pearl nods.

 

“Me, too,” Fran nods.  “I didn’t like when she said that.  Because, you know, I still have CP even though I can talk.  Like you told my class in fifth grade, Dominique.”

 

“Mm-hmm,” Dominique rolls her the green stress ball, like, super casually.  

 

Fran stops it and squeezes it while she keeps talking.  “And then she said, like, that you had your hands full with me or something.  Like, everybody always says it must be so hard to have a kid like me. Moms even act like it is, from me and Mari…  Do you guys think that’s true?” Fran asks, glancing around at the other Avoiders.

 

“I think...you guys are really easy to love,” Levi says, and Francesca totally believes him.

 

“Then why do people always act like it’s so hard?” Fran asks honestly.  “Like, I really want to know.”

 

“There’s a thing…” Mariana offers.  “Like, in society or whatever…where people think we’re not as good as them.”

 

“Is that like, the ableism thing?” Fran checks.

 

“Right.  Ableism is when...people who aren’t disabled…” she glances at Jesus for help with words that are probably gone from being tired.

 

“When they discriminate against disabled people.  When they think disabled people are less than nondisabled people.  A lot of people out there feel like this.”

 

“A lot of people are wrong,” Fran decides.

 

“Hell yeah, they are…” Jesus agrees.

 

Francesca yawns.  She doesn’t have the energy to tell Jesus not to swear.  Fran glances at Mariana’s coffee. That would help. “Can I have some?”

 

“No,” Mariana grins, covering it up with her hand.  “You’ll never go to bed.”

 

“Can I sleep with you in the top bunk tonight?” Fran asks.

 

“Where will Dom sleep?” Mariana wonders.

 

“The air mattress or the couch?” Fran asks, looking at Pearl and Dominique.

 

“I could sleep on the couch.  You up for switching?” Dominique asks Pearl.

 

“Sure, sounds good.” Pearl nods.

 

“Not that I want to go to bed yet.  I don’t.” Fran tells them.

 

“But you should probably start heading,” Jesus tells her seriously.  “Because getting up for school is gonna come a lot earlier than getting up today did, and we want you to have plenty of sleep.”

 

“Not by myself,” Fran worries.

 

“No,” Mariana reassures.  “We need to be awake, to climb the ladder.  You wanna grab some stuff, go next door and change?”

 

“Not really…” Fran denies, a small smile on her face.

 

“Get going, buddy,” Jesus chides.

 

Fran sighs and gets up to go find clothes for tomorrow and bring them next door.  Before she goes, she hugs everybody.

 

“Anybody can drink that,” Mariana says, gesturing to her half-full cup of coffee.

 

“Oh, anybody but Francesca can drink that,” Fran teases.

 

Mariana laughs.  “That’s right.”

 

Francesca watches as Levi reaches out to take Mari’s cup.  Thinks they really should be boyfriend/girlfriend now, especially since Levi’s eighteen.  But Mari keeps saying don’t talk about it, so Fran just thinks about it in her mind.

 

\--

 

Mari and Fran go to Dominique’s with Dominique’s keys.  They close the door but leave it unlocked for Dominique and Pearl whenever they come back.

 

It’s almost like usual.  Just Francesca and Mariana alone, but Fran feels so much safer here.  

 

“Do you feel it?” Fran asks, as they climb up into bed with Dominique’s night lights on to light the way.

 

“Hmm?” Mari asks.

 

“How much safer it is here?  How much more they love us?” Fran asks quietly.

 

“Mmm.  Yeah. I do.” Mariana nods.

 

“Will you not leave even if I fall asleep?  I don’t wanna be alone,” Fran begs.

 

“I won’t leave you alone,” Mariana promises.  “You’re safe with us. I’ll make sure.”

 

Fran can’t keep her eyes open, but she tosses and turns, until Mariana’s hand finds hers in the dark and holds on.

 

It’s Fran’s safest way.


	70. Time Marches On

Jesus tries to settle in once Mari and Fran go across the hall to Dominique’s for the night, but it’s tough.  Settling at all tonight is tough. It’s right around the time when Stef walked into that room a decade back and found him waiting for her, and Officer Saunders protecting him.

 

It’s like his brain won’t stop doing the thing where it constantly reminds him:  _ This is where you were Then _ .  And in the next second:  _ Is it still Then if Stef was there?  Stef’s from Now.  _ The truth was Jesus hadn’t been on his way home yet.  So, he wasn’t en route. He was still in LA, and he still felt like everything about this might come crashing down at any second.

 

“Jesus?” Levi asks.

 

“Hmm?” Jesus blinks.  He sees Levi drinking out of the coffee cup Jesus got for Mariana with two penguins hugging.  It says: 

 

_ I like you a lottle. _

_ It’s like a little, except a lot. _

 

“You okay?” Pearl asks.

 

“Sorry, my brain’s just all over the place tonight.  Just ignore me.” Jesus insists.

 

Dudley grumbles and presses his nose into Jesus’s hand, his huge body taking up a lot of the room under the table.

 

“Fine, don’t ignore me,” Jesus says to Dudley softly.

 

“We don’t wanna ignore you, Jesus,” Dominique says seriously.  “If you’d rather not talk about it with us, though, we get that.”

 

“It’s just that...I usually end up talking to Stef about it all…  We’re the only two with those memories. Who lived that piece of time together, you know?  Except for Mike, I guess…”

 

“Mike?” Levi asks.

 

“Brandon’s dad,” Jesus fills in.  He and Stef work together and stuff.  They were when I called her...so he drove and whatever…”

 

“She works with her ex…” Levi muses.  

 

“Kinda weird, I know,” Jesus nods.  “But yeah. Just feels weird to share these memories with anybody else.”

 

“I get that,” Dominique nods.  “Kinda why I keep mine just between me and my parents.”

 

Levi glances at Dom expectantly here.  Dominique shakes her head no. Jesus wonders absently what’s going on with them, but his mind is too full of memories to really focus on anything else.

 

“Just because memories occurred between you and Stef doesn’t mean you can’t share them with us if you wanted to…” Pearl encourages.

 

“It’s not that…” Jesus shares.  “It’s like…she just knows? So I don’t have to say it all?  I can say something like, “Remember where I was when you first saw me again?  And she’ll just know the answer is under a table. I don’t have to say it. And she won’t ask me about it.”

 

“We won’t,” Pearl nods.

 

“Stop,” Levi tells her gently.  “Stop pushing.”

 

“I’m not.  Wait. Am I?” she asks Jesus.

 

He shrugs.  “I just… I wanna talk about it but it’s so different.  You know? Not even Mariana was there with me and she was there through everything in our lives up to a certain point…  But even she doesn’t know this stuff. So it’d feel kinda like...betraying her...to talk to you guys about it first.”

 

“You don’t have to,” Pearl relents.

 

“I just...I’m messed up…  Remembering shit like...how I left another kid alone in That House while I saved myself…  Like...I know how that seemed to that other kid. He totally hates my guts. Like, hardcore.  And I get it. But he doesn’t know the whole story. He doesn’t know I couldn’t risk helping him before I got help myself.  He doesn’t know I’d tried that once, and…”

 

Jesus closes his eyes and draws a shaky breath.

 

“I just couldn’t do it again.  But to this other kid, it seems like I’m just a selfish asshole.  Do you know he thought I helped take him?” Jesus asks, glancing at Pearl.

 

“Your abductor probably told him that,” Pearl maintains.

 

“He  _ did _ ask,” Jesus tells them, his voice far away, thinking about all the nights He asked Jesus to invite kids over.  Jesus never did. Because, as willing as he was to do whatever he had to in order to stay alive, Jesus had drawn the line at luring other unsuspecting kids to Super Hell.

 

“You didn’t do it,” Dominique says, glancing at Jesus briefly, like she just knows this about him.  She’s watched a lot of the news on Jesus’s abduction, and it would be easy to think that she saw some soundbyte that said as much...but instead, Dom seems to be reading him.

 

“No,” Jesus shakes his head.  “That was _ His _ thing.  I wasn’t about to help Him ruin a kid’s life.”

 

“How old was the kid?” Dominique asks.

 

“What do you mean?” Jesus wonders.

 

Dominique just waits.

 

“I think...like twelve?  Maybe a year younger than us?  I was thirteen-and-a-half Then, so…  Why?”

 

“Because...that’s young.  We don’t really think about it.  But it’s young. Only a year older than Francesca.  And when I was twelve...I believed some things about you, Jesus.”

 

Jesus blinks.  “What kind of things?”

 

“That our stories were pretty close?  Like, identical?” Dominique allows. “When you were found?  And I saw it on TV. Heard the reporters all sharing details, and how those details didn’t match what happened to me…  I felt betrayed, too…” she offers.

 

Jesus blinks.  “Seriously? Wait...did I know that?”

 

“I might’ve told you real late one night?  But I’m not sure.” Dominique admits.

 

“I’m sorry our stories aren’t close like you thought,” Jesus tells her.

 

“I’m glad they’re not,” Dominique hurries to tell him.  “I wouldn’t wish what happened to me on anyone. I think just...as a kid…”

 

“You didn’t wanna be alone,” Levi fills in.  

 

“Yeah,” Dominique nods.  “Anyway, I’m not saying I take the other kid’s side, or that I believe you stole little kids for that asshole.  Just...I know kids brains fill in the gaps in funny ways sometimes.”

 

“I get it,” Jesus nods.  “Hey, are you okay that I’m talking about this?”

 

“It kinda sucks,” Dominique shrugs.  “But, you know, whatever, right?”

 

“Why does it suck?” Jesus asks, confused.

 

“Because I had a traumaversary a few days ago…” Dominique shares, rolling her stress ball back and forth between her hands.  “And everybody always comes through for you. Every time. It’s been over a year since we’ve been friends...and y’all still don’t even know my dates…”

 

“August 27th!” Jesus insists, hurt.  “Dominique, seriously. What do you mean I don’t know your dates?”

 

“That’s one,” she allows.

 

“What is this, like, a quiz?” Jesus scoffs, his brain skipping back to being sent to school an extra day, just so he could fail a test.

 

“Jesus,” Pearl cautions.  “Everybody’s pretty raw right now.”

 

Glancing back at Dominique, Jesus can see Dominique’s clear, earnest gaze has gone wary.  He’s scaring her.

 

Jesus takes a deep breath.  “Listen, I’m sorry. I’m not mad…  I just...I don’t like feeling like there’s people who wanna see me fail.”

 

“I  _ don’t _ wanna see you fail, Jesus,” Dominique insists, quiet.  “I just want you to  _ see me _ .  Our stories aren’t identical, but they are really close.  I have an anniversary when I was grabbed. I have an anniversary when I came back.  And I have a grief anniversary. Like you, I lost somebody when I was twelve. Unlike you, I don’t get to talk about it and be supported so universally.”

 

“You think it’s easy having the whole world know the worst days of my life?” Jesus asks softly.  “Knowing my face every time I go out? Even now?”

 

“No, I don’t.  I just… It’s not easy being invisible either.  It’s not easy when no one knows, Jesus. When my closest friends don’t know the most basic details about hard days…”

 

“You don’t talk about it,” Jesus points out.  “I thought we were being respectful.”

 

“But would it feel respectful if you were ignored on your trauma days?” Levi asks.  “If no one even bothered to ask? If you had to watch another one of your friends be supported every time he needed it?  And you came through every time? Just hoping that someday, those friends might do the same for you?”

 

Jesus blinks, surprised.  So much so he can’t even think about how Levi knows all this.  “Dominique, I didn’t know…”

 

“Well, why would you?” she asks, a smile on her face, masking her hurt.  “You have your own days. I know how hard it is to do any kind of self care for myself on those days, much less somebody else…  And now I did the thing where  _ I’m _ a selfish asshole.  I told myself I wasn’t gonna do this.  Not now.” Dominique blinks back tears.

 

“Hey.  You’re not selfish,” Jesus insists.  “I don’t think that. Trauma sometimes overlaps, or...whatever it’s called.  That’s not on you.”

 

He watches as Levi whispers briefly to Dominique.  As she nods. Jesus’s phone pings with a text message:

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Oct 10th - D gone, check in _

_ April 26th - D grief, check in _

_ Aug 27th - D back, everything changed, check in _

 

“Dude, how do you have these?” Jesus asks Levi, not able  to keep his curiosity at bay anymore. “You just said no one knew her dates, but obviously you do…”

 

“He asked,” Dominique insists, quiet, her eyes shining.  

 

Jesus scrubs his hands over his face.  “Okay. I am sorry, Dominique. Honestly.  I’ve been a crappy friend to you, and I know that now.  I keep trying to do better, but it seems like I just keep dropping the ball.  So, if you’d rather...I don’t know...not do this...I’d understand.”

 

“Do  _ you _ wanna not do this?  Not be friends?” she wonders, seeming hurt now, too.

 

“No, but I mean, I keep letting you down...so…” Jesus shrugs.

 

“So, that means you’re human,” Pearl says.  “That’s not a free pass to act a fool, but it does mean we make mistakes.  Dominique’s saying it hurts to be overlooked.”

 

“Trigger,” Dominique manages.

 

“I’m sorry?” Pearl asks.

 

“It’s a trigger.  I’m not hurt by it, I’m  _ triggered. _  Because I spent most of a year being overlooked.  Being invisible. And I almost died ‘cause nobody noticed me.  And that’s not an exaggeration. I tried every damn bit as hard as you to escape, Jesus, and I almost made it.”

 

He cocks his head.

 

Dominique turns her face, so her scars are facing him.

 

Oh.  Damn.

 

“I think it would help…” Levi starts out gently.  “If Dominique knew you’ve got her dates, and that you’ll check in with her about them?  Kinda the way everyone checks in with you?”

 

“Yeah…” Jesus clears his throat.  “So, the 10th...that was pretty soon…  Recent…”

 

Dominique nods.

 

“Are you okay?” Jesus asks, and it feels so hella awkward.

 

“Are  _ you _ ?” she challenges, her eyes bright.

 

“No.  But like...I’m trying here.  But do you hate me because I’ve gotten all the attention, or what?” Jesus asks.

 

“No.  I just want my own.  I wanna matter. The way y’all matter to me.” Dominique insists.

 

“You do,” Jesus tells her seriously.

 

“But how do I know that, Jesus?  How the hell do I know that when I spend three days out of the year in bed, a sobbing mess and maybe one of y’all at a time, checks in with me?  How am I supposed to know I matter when y’all don’t treat me like I do?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Jesus apologizes, feeling powerless.  “I really don’t want you to feel like you don’t matter. Because you do.  You matter so much to Francesca. To Mari. To Pearl.”

 

“To me,” Levi adds.

 

“As what?” Dominique asks, sniffing.

 

“As our friend,” Levi says.

 

“Do I matter to you?” Dominique challenges, looking Jesus in the eyes.

 

“Yes.  You matter to me,” Jesus answers, willing his voice to be steady.

 

“Then show me,” Dominique insists, raising her chin.  “I’m not gonna come out with every detail of what happened, but if it matters to you - if _ I _ matter - the least you could do is check in.  Ask how I am. If you can help. Be there. Something.  Just do  _ something _ …”

 

Jesus stares, struck silent at the sight of Dominique crying here at his kitchen table.  He wants to get up and hug her, but he knows that Dominique wouldn’t take to that at all.

 

“The Gone days suck,” he offers, sympathetic.  “So, I’m here if you need to talk. Or want me to listen.  Or just to be here.”

 

By now, Pearl has gotten up from her chair and folded Dominique in her embrace.  

 

Levi sits quietly at the table staring at the coffee cup Mariana left him.

 

Jesus feels like he has to do something.  But offering tissue is a universal signal for “get yourself together” which is not what he wants to communicate.

 

He grabs his sketchbook - pretty much abandoned since he came back from the cabin - and starts to draw.

 

Minutes or hours later - Jesus isn’t really sure - he’s done.

 

He rips the page out and slides it across the table.  

 

\--

 

Dominique glances up with blurry eyes.  The letters in front of her running together.  But clear enough. 

 

It’s not a Missing poster.  

 

It’s a Found poster.

 

And drawn in the way only Jesus can - there’s Dominique - at eleven years old - smiling.  Looking just like her fifth grade school picture at home on the mantle.

 

She’s happy.

 

It’s everything she wished for.

 

And nothing like it really is.

 

Still, Dominique takes the drawing, and walks back to her apartment, closing the door behind her.

 

Maybe, it’s what Jesus wished for, too.

 

Maybe that’s why he drew her like this.


	71. 22

“What the hell was that?” Jesus asks, shaking his head.  “She just took it and left?”

 

Pearl isn’t sure what’s going on either.  But she can tell that there is a lot that has gone unresolved between Jesus and Dominique.  

 

“What did you expect?” Levi asks quietly.  “I mean, seriously, Jesus. Everything Dominique said was true.  We’ve done a crappy job at being her friends. We need to be better at it.  One drawing - however well-intentioned - isn’t going to fix it all.”

 

“Dude…  Oh, my God…  I’m not saying that.  I’m just saying...like…”

 

Jesus is up and pacing now, a sure sign that his stress is high.  Dudley, at least, is keeping pace with him, his nose constantly nudging Jesus in the hand.

 

“Hey, Jesus?” Pearl calls.  “No one’s blaming you.”

 

“Well, it sure as hell feels like it!” Jesus explains, turning on them both.  “I know I can’t fix everything in a day! I know I can’t fix any damn thing, regardless!”

 

Pearl stands and walks calmly to stand in front of Jesus.  At 5’4”, she has to look up to see him, but tries not to let the height-difference deter her.  “Where would you feel comfortable right now?”

 

Jesus just goes around Pearl, to the spare bedroom, back to the kitchen, back to the spare bedroom.  It’s making her dizzy.

 

“How can we help, Jesus?” Pearl calls.

 

“Get a better friend than me…  I’m such a dumbass…” Pearl and Levi can hear Jesus’s voice, a little muted, from the spare bedroom.

 

One glance at Levi and Pearl is surprised to see him on his feet and fearlessly walking to the spare room with Jesus.  Pearl follows at a distance. The door stays ajar.

 

“Jesus?” Levi asks.  He waits until Jesus’s eyes flicker to his.  “You are not a dumbass. Okay? I promise you.  That’s not what I was trying to say. You’re our friend. Please come and sit down.”

 

Pearl flinches as Jesus makes a quick move for the photograph on the desk.  Of all six of them at the cabin this past spring. 

 

“This is all a damn joke!” Jesus screams, bringing his arm back, as if to throw the framed picture into an empty corner of the room.  But Dudley’s front paws are on Jesus’s chest. The dog is licking his face, despite Jesus telling him to “get off me.”

 

Pearl and Levi back up and give Jesus some space.  Pearl nods at Levi and they both retreat back to the table in the kitchen.  Pearl’s up again, in moments, locating a bottle of water and a kiwi, which she peels and slices and sets on a saucer at his place at the table. 

 

“Didn’t he come in with candy?” Levi checks. “From the store?”

 

Pearl double checks the counter tops and then the fridge and finds the box of Junior Mints there.  She sets them out, too. Then they just sit down at the table and wait. Cleo nuzzles Pearl from her lap.  And she bides time checking her phone.

 

Levi is doing the same.

 

\--

 

Jesus feels like he’s just screwed up beyond repair.  The Avoiders have felt more like family than any family he’s ever known.  They do treat him well. They do come through for him. And he might’ve just messed all that up by forgetting that there are more people than just him who need support.

 

He’s on his way to a major self-destruction spiral, but Dudley keeps pulling him toward the center of the room.  Away from walls. Or over to furniture. Jesus doesn’t wanna be any of those places. He wants to disappear. He wants to be a million miles away, so that when the bottom falls out of his world, he won’t register it.

 

As a last ditch effort, Jesus drops Dudley’s leash.

 

Drops to the floor.  Finds the nearest wall.

 

Goes blank.

 

\--

 

Pearl’s out of her chair the minute she hears it.  

 

A rhythmic thumping.

 

Jesus talked about this years ago, when he came to her cabin with an intense headache resulting from an episode of intense self harm.  Pearl doesn’t know what she’s going to do, but she knows she has to do something. 

 

Dudley’s whining.

 

Pearl stops in the doorway of the spare room.  Though there’s no bed here, she feels instinctively that this situation calls for the utmost respect and care.  

 

“Jesus?  It’s Pearl.  I’m coming to help, okay?”

 

No audible response.  Just more thudding. Pearl takes a deep breath and goes in.

 

“Jesus?” Pearl calls again.  Dudley’s still here, doing his best.  Nudging Jesus. Whining. Licking his face.  But Pearl can’t just ignore him while this happens.  “I’m not going to crowd you or touch you, okay? But I want you to see me.  I’m here with you, okay?”

 

But Jesus is a million miles from here.  Eyes open, but carefully expressionless.

 

\--

 

Levi doesn’t wait.  Even though she reminds him eerily of Pearl’s mother - at least in appearance - Levi knows that right now would be an instance where Jesus needs his person.  So Levi goes. He takes the stairs as fast as he dares without tripping and skids to a stop just outside the office door on the first floor. 

 

Knocks.

 

“Hi,” he stutters, as Val pulls open the door.  He averts his gaze. “Jesus needs you.”

 

Val doesn’t wait.  She takes the elevator up while Levi takes the stairs.  Hoping that maybe between Dudley and Pearl, they’ve managed to protect Jesus.

 

\--

 

Josh can’t hear anything but a loud rushing in his ears.  Down There is cold around him. The cement is freezing. Chains dig in around his wrists.  His waist. There’s a thing over his head. He can’t see. Or breathe. All he can do is try.  Try. Try to escape. Even though he can’t. Obviously.

 

Such a dumbass.

 

\--

 

Pearl jumps as the door opens at her back.  A woman she doesn’t immediately recognize walks in, and bends down to speak to Jesus.

 

Feeling like she’s the intruder, Pearl backs out of the room, and finds Levi in the living room, a little pale.

 

“Who is she?” Pearl wonders.

 

“Val,” Levi substitutes as if it should be obvious.  “Jesus’s person.”

 

“Ah.  Good call.” Pearl nods.  They wait in the living room, knowing Jesus’s biggest worry right now is probably that he’ll lose them.

 

And that’s why they stay.

 

\--

 

“Jesus?  It’s Val.  You’re safe right now.  Your friend, Levi? He came to find me and tell me you needed me.”

 

The voice sounds like it’s coming from so far off.  Plus, he’s not allowed to say that name, ever, or respond to it.  Doesn’t she know that? Does she want him to get killed?

 

“No…” he manages, hoarse.

 

“No, what, Jesus?”

 

That name again.  He rocks harder. “ _ No _ …”

 

“It’s Val.  You’re safe right now.  I hear you saying no. It’s safe to say no.”

 

Blink.  Blink hard.  A person. A woman.  In a room. A dog licking him.  Heart-shaped fur. Dudley.

 

_ Oh _ ... 

 

Shit, his head hurts.

 

He clears his throat.  Tries to lean forward, but his body feels heavy.  No chains, but he still feels them. He glances at the woman, scared.  “I can’t…” he croaks.

 

“You can’t get up?” she asks.

 

Head shaking no.  No. Don’t even try.  Don’t even move.

 

“Pearl and Levi are here.  One of them can come and help you.”

 

He squints.

 

She glances at the picture on the floor and picks it up, showing him.  “Pearl’s right here. And this is Levi, in the front. Your friends, The Avoiders.  They came to help Francesca out yesterday, right?”

 

“Yeah…” he croaks, but he’s not totally sure yet.

 

“You want Pearl and Levi to help you?” she asks.

 

Nod once.  Careful.

 

She backs up, but Dudley stays.  Whining. Nuzzling. Big enough to eat his whole face, but doesn’t. 

 

\--

 

Pearl has done her best not to eavesdrop, but it’s a small apartment.  When Val steps out and tells them Jesus wants their help, Pearl’s on her feet in no time.

 

“Move slowly,” Val advises.  “Explain your movements. Reassure him.  And his name’s a bit of a trigger right now, so don’t use it, but try to anchor him in the present as much as you can.”

 

“Got it,” Pearl nods.  

 

Levi stands, too.  “Are you gonna stay?” he asks.  “You know? In case he needs you?”

 

“I’ll give you three space, but I’m going to stay until he’s out of the flashback and calm,” Val reassures.  “Oh. Don’t touch him or attempt to touch him until he’s present and can consent.”

 

“We won’t,” Levi promises.

 

\--

 

Levi ducks into the room first.  

 

“Hey…” he says, his own heart pounding fast.  “It’s Levi.” He’s still in the doorway. “May I come in?  Sit on the floor across from you?”

 

Jesus looks confused for a second, but nods.

 

Levi narrates every step until he’s settled on the floor across from Jesus.  Then, Levi turns and nods out the open doorway and Pearl and Cleo follow suit, waiting for Jesus’s nod, and narrating, before sitting down beside Levi.

 

“We’re here,” Pearl explains patiently.  “Avoider backup. How can we help?”

 

Levi tracks Jesus’s gaze, on the picture on the floor.  “Can I come sit next to you? Not touching? So we can look at this together?”

 

Jesus nods at Levi.  Nods at Pearl, too.

 

“Oh.  Okay.” Pearl nods.

 

They move slowly, explaining everything, until they’re sitting on either side of Jesus, not touching him.  Dudley’s head is resting in Jesus’s lap.

 

“This picture…” Levi starts.  “We took it at the cabin back in April, right?” he asks rhetorically.  Jesus doesn’t respond in an obvious way, but Levi’s pretty sure he’s listening.  “So, this is me, up front, with Francesca, right? And behind us? That’s Pearl, and Dominique, and you, and Mariana…”

 

“Mariana…” Jesus says, quiet.

 

“Right here, right?” Levi points again.

 

“She’s gone?” Jesus asks, glancing around.

 

“She’s just next door.  Francesca wanted company when she went to sleep.  And I think Mariana exhausted, too.” Pearl explains.  “She’s not gone.”

 

Levi watches as Jesus’s eyes focus in on Dominique and they cloud.  

 

“It’s okay,” he reassures.  “Dom’s not mad. We’re still all friends.  Sometimes friends hurt each other. Then, we talk about it.  Sometimes we need to talk about it a lot. Say we’re sorry a lot.  But we’re all still friends.”

 

Jesus swallows.  “I’m an idiot.”

 

“No,” Pearl insists.  “Listen to me. Please.”  Levi waits, holding his breath, until Jesus meets her gaze.  “I know that in the past...it’s been so unsafe for you to make mistakes with friends.  Right?”

 

Levi sees the tears gather in Jesus’s eyes instantly.  Watches him swallow. Nod.

 

“But no one is going to hurt you or kill you right now.  No one is going to hurt or kill Dominique, either. You’re safe.” Pearl tells him, sounding soft but confident.  Sounding sure.

 

“I can’t move…” Jesus manages.

 

“Do you want help?” Pearl asks.

 

“You can’t,” Jesus insists, sounding hoarse and distant.  “I’m stuck.”

 

“I’m not stuck,” Pearl explains patiently, extending her hands in front of her so Jesus can see them.  “Levi’s not stuck, are you, Levi?”

 

Levi mirrors Pearl, showing his hands, in front of him, so Jesus has a good view.

 

“Can you try?” Pearl asks Jesus, as she and Levi keep their hands where they are.

 

Wincing, Jesus eases his hands out from behind his back.  His eyes light on the orange bracelet around his wrist. The purple ones around Pearl and Levi’s wrists.  “Hey…  _ Avoiders unite _ ,” he reads, sounding slowly, like he’s more here.

 

Levi averts his gaze as Jesus has to check himself for actual chains around the waist.  Finding none, he eases away from the wall.

 

Pearl and Levi stand up.  Jesus stays crouched. In tandem, they extend a hand to him, and Jesus accepts, standing to tower over both Pearl and Levi.  They walk with him to the kitchen. Sit down with him at the table, moving their chairs so they’re close to his.

 

Jesus drinks a little water.  Eats some fruit. Leaves the Junior Mints.

 

As promised.  Val is still here.

 

Levi kind of tries to ignore her, but at the same time, he is glad she’s there.

 

\--

 

“So…” Pearl ventures, after Jesus has had a little to eat, and drink.  He still looks fragile and haunted, but more present. 

 

“Sorry,” Jesus manages.  “I don’t know what happened.  I’m just...sorry.”

 

“No,” Levi objects lightly.  “You don’t have to be sorry. It’s a big trauma day for you.”

 

“Jesus?” Val calls, calmly from across the room.

 

Glancing up and searching briefly before his eyes land on Val, he asks, “What?”

 

Val walks over and squats low by Jesus’s chair.  “Do you know where you are?” she asks him matter of factly.

 

“My apartment.”

 

“Tell me some facts about you,” Val says, like she’s merely curious.  “Basic facts.”

 

“My name is Jesus Foster--I mean, Jesus  _ Adams _ Foster,” Jesus shares.

 

“Good.  One more?” Val asks.

 

“I’m...twenty-two...no...twenty-three…” Jesus continues, still a little hesitant.

 

“Very good.  And one more.  What’s one more basic fact about you?  When’s your birthday?” 

 

“March--  I mean, May.”  Jesus self-corrects.

 

“Right.  May, what?  Can you tell me your whole birthday?” Val asks.

 

“May…17th, 1998.” Jesus shares.

 

“Good,” Val reassures.  “Take a slow deep breath for me.”

 

Pearl listens as Jesus does.  She does, too. So does Levi.

 

“Tell me about your siblings,” Val asks.

 

“What do you mean?” Jesus asks.  “You said one more question.”

 

“I’m asking you questions to make sure you’re present, Jesus.  You still seem like you could be more grounded right now. What do you think?”

 

“I’m allowed to think…’cause I’m a human being…” Jesus ventures.

 

“That’s right.  Can you tell me about your siblings?  What are their names?”

 

“Mariana...and Brandon…” Jesus lists.

 

Pearl’s waiting for Jesus to list Francesca, Jude and Callie, as well, but their names don’t immediately come.

 

“Okay.  Good. Mariana and Brandon.  Anyone else?” Val waits.

 

Jesus glances, questions in his eyes, at Pearl and Levi.

 

“Francesca,” Levi offers.  “She’s an Avoider like us, right?”

 

“Right.  Yeah,” Jesus nods.  “You came to help her…”

 

“Right, we did,” Pearl echoes.  “You’re almost there. Who else?”

 

“Dude…” Jesus breathes.  “I know already. You don’t have to quiz me…”

 

“You’ve got this.  You’ve got one more sister.  And one more brother,” Levi encourages.  “Callie and Jude, right?”

 

“Oh.  Yeah,” Jesus nods.  “Just...don’t ask who my parents are…” he all but begs.  “I don’t wanna say…”

 

“You know who your parent’s  _ not _ though, right?” Val double-checks.

 

“Right, I know.  ‘Cause he’s dead.” Jesus answers, like he’s bored.

 

“And because he was never your parent,” Val reminds gently but firmly.  “That was a lie he made you go along with. But you don’t have to do that anymore.”

 

“Okay,” Jesus answers, soft.  “I’m okay…” he nods at Val. “You can go.”

 

“You feel like you can keep yourself safe?  With Pearl and Levi’s help? And Dudley?” Val asks.

 

“Yes.”

 

“If you feel yourself starting to shut down again?  Tell me one thing you can do?” Val insists.

 

“Talk to them.” Jesus nods.

 

“Talk to them and say what?” Val presses.

 

“Backup?” Jesus asks.

 

Val locks eyes with Pearl.  “If you hear Jesus say backup that means he needs your support.  Talk about what’s happening now. Let him know he’s safe. And if he’s not, don’t hesitate to come and get me again.  I’ll check in again soon,” Val promises and excuses herself.

 

“We’ll be here for him,” Pearl promises.

 

After Val leaves, it’s quiet.  Until Jesus glances up at Pearl, expectant.  “Don’t you have to, like, get some sleep or whatever?  Aren’t you going to school with Fran tomorrow?”

 

“I am, but I can be here for you, too,” Pearl tells him.

 

“I really...really didn’t mean for this to happen, guys.  I’m sorry. It’s just what Dom said, right? I need support, and I got it.  And meanwhile, Dom’s next door.”

 

“She’s not alone over there,” Levi adds.  “She’s got Mariana and Fran. You’ve got us.  It’s okay.”

 

“So, it always has to be equal?  To be fair?” Jesus wonders.

 

“I think, consideration-wise, it should be equal.  So, Levi and I are here for you. Mariana’s there for Dominique.  I’m pretty sure Fran’s asleep.”

 

“But what if Mari’s asleep, too, and Dominique’s just alone and whatever, and thinks we forgot her?” Jesus worries.

 

“Well, I think that’d be a time that it’d be good to check in with her?  If you’re thinking about her, send her a text or a video or whatever. It’s always good to be thought of, right?” Levi suggests.

 

\--

 

Jesus takes a deep breath and opens a text:

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Hey.  Not okay.  But thinking of you.  Hope you’re okay. LMK if I can help.  Thx for being their for Fran tommorrow. _

 

He sends the text before he registers that his spelling is a hot mess.  Another indicator that he’s feeling major levels of emotional flashback.

 

Jesus keeps waiting for Pearl and Levi to leave, but they don’t.  

 

They stay.

 

They’re here when Val checks back in.

 

Pearl offers Tylenol.  Levi offers their dad’s blanket.  There’s something weirdly comforting about it.  You’d think Jesus wouldn’t be able to exist anywhere near anything related to anybody’s dad, but this is different.

 

It does feel safe, kind of.

 

Jesus can’t sleep at all.

 

But Pearl and Levi stay awake with him.


	72. Underneath

Dominique closes the door quietly behind her, knowing that by now - after 10 PM - at least Fran should be asleep.  Tries to keep herself together. No ugly crying right now. (Who is she kidding? No ugly crying ever.)

 

She draws a slow deep breath as Roberta comes up and mews softly, wrapping herself around Dom’s legs.  

 

“Hey, you,” Dominique whispers, crouching so she can see the cat eye to eye.  Roberta studies her critically, tail swishing back and forth. “Yeah, I’m destroyed.  You’ve seen me like this before. But thanks for the concern.”

 

Finally, she gives up and turns the lock.  Pearl will have to text if she wants to get in.  There’s no way any of them will feel secure trying to sleep behind an unlocked door.

 

Her phone chimes, obscenely loud in her quiet apartment, alerting God and everyone that Donminique Williams has a Facebook message.

 

“Shit,” she curses quietly, rushing to turn the volume down and checking the message.

 

**_Dominique, Mariana_ **

 

_ 10:13 PM _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Did you just get home? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Yeah, that’s you.  Sorry for the obnoxious message. [awkward emoji]  Still awake (not Fran, though.) Come up, if you want. _

 

Dominique doesn’t need an invite twice.  She’d much rather be around Mari and Fran than alone in the living room, debating whether or not to inflate the air mattress for Pearl.

 

She snaps a quick picture of the drawing from Jesus, swings by the bathroom for her lotioning and to brush her teeth, and finally, she creeps quietly into her room and up the ladder.  Roberta makes it look easy, like she’s on one of those ninja shows, jumping effortlessly from the floor, to Dom’s desk, to the window sill and up to the bed, all before Dominique gets to the top of the ladder.

 

Fran’s sleeping against the wall, breathing heavy, like she does.

 

Mariana’s on her phone, in the middle of the bed.  Dom can see she’s scooted as far toward the wall as she can, too, without squashing Fran, to make room, so Dom can join them.

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ So, how was it? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Totally unloaded on your brother.  Hate me? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Never.  How did you unload? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ I was pretty shitty.  I made a big thing about him getting support all the time on his traumaversaries from all of y’all and me… _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Is this....  Is it like you were telling me?  You have a grief anniversary, too?  And you’d never celebrate it the way Jesus did? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Yeah.  It’s like that. _

 

Dominique pauses and attaches the picture of the drawing Jesus did tonight and forwards it to Mariana.  

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ You told him and he drew this? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Yeah. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ What do you think about it? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ What should I think? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ You okay?  You know you don’t have to ask my permission for what to think (or whether to think…) _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Yeah...I just...I know y’all are super close.  And we used to joke about all being triplets but I know I’m not really in that.  So if I piss off Jesus, I’m likely to not just lose him...but you, too. And Francesca.  And Pearl. And Levi. Because everybody - every one of y’all - knew Jesus first. So, your loyalty’s probably to him. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ We are super close.  But I know I’ve offended you before and we’ve talked it out. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ That’s different.  I can’t afford to lose you.  I had to take the risk to tell you, ‘cause your friendship matters to me.  And because I was pretty sure you wouldn’t bail if I told you. But with Jesus...this is gonna sound terrible… _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Everybody loves him. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Okay, wow, you just went there… _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Avoidance isn’t the first family where Jesus has kinda been the center.  We all had to deal with it in some way when he came back, too. Moms still loved us, they said, but it seemed to fade...next to how much they loved him… _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Damn. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ So...the drawing? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ I mean, I love it...and I hate it.  It’s so sweet, and I feel what he was hoping I’d feel, I think.  I get his hope in it. But at the same time...it’s ignoring a lot… _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ And that was kinda your whole point, right?  Like… _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ YES.  Like, that’s not reality.  That’s a dream. That’s fiction.  That’s denial. That’s rose-colored glasses.  That is the whole point I was trying to make. Don’t ignore me, it’s a trigger. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ What? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Just thinking.  Not sure if I should share. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Why? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Don’t want it to seem like I’m taking his side or whatever.  It’s not that. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ What is it? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Context, or something? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Okay.  Context is cool. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ So, like...IDK if any of this is gonna make sense or any of my words are gonna be here or whatever but… _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ I’m listening.  I’ll jump in if you need help. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ I don’t wanna speak for Jesus.  But for me? Sharing my hope? Is really fucking hard.  Like you said you took the risk with me? To say I hurt you and whatever?  Sharing my hope feels like the most...whatever...risk ever. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Pretty major? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ The major-est.  So, it’s like… (and this might not be true, IDK) Jesus knows prob better than any of us just how bad stuff can get.  Kidnapping. Whatever. (Not whatever, but…) He gets how bad that is. To draw that? Maybe it felt like salt in a wound?  Maybe he didn’t wanna hurt you more, so he took a risk and shared his hope? IDK. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Maybe.  I just...I wish somebody would care about me and my motives the way you all do about him and his. _

 

(All this time and Dominique hasn’t really stopped crying.  But in the dark, she’s not sure if Mariana’s noticed.)

 

From beside her, Mariana leans into Dominique.

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ I get that he wasn’t trying to hurt me.  I get that none of y’all have tried to hurt me.  I don’t think you’re monsters, or terrible people.  But it hurt anyway. All I was trying to say to him was I wish you’d see me.  And then he came back with a drawing like that. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ You want us to see you + your pain and not turn away from it.  And it feels like by drawing what he did, J turned away from it. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Right. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Sometimes, it’s scary to identify w/ you.  Because car accident and whatever. And that aspect...changes so much...and I honestly really get people not really seeing you...but it’s like… _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ What’s it like? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Moms do a really good job telling Fran and I we don’t matter.  At not seeing our disabilities. At ignoring our struggles. Defending other ppl’s assery.  Bc they identify w/ them. Not us. I might be doing that [eyes closed emoji] _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Well, what with how they marinate y’all in ableism, I’m not surprised.  But we do deserve to be seen. I deserve to be seen. You deserve to be seen.  Fran deserves to be seen. For all of who we are. If people are only fixed on seeing us as we were (and on our best day, at that) that’s dangerous. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ It is.  You do deserve to be seen.  And if I can do anything else to help make sure you are, LMN?  (OMG, lets try that again…) LMK? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ [smiling emoji] [heart emoji]  Can I give you my dates? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Dates? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Main 3 traumaversaries? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Yes, please. _

 

Dominique sends them.

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Is April 26th HSM marathon day? [heart emojis] _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Technically, yeah.  IDK how I’ll feel.  _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ I’ll note it and we can see how you feel. [heart emojis] _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ You gonna be okay at your moms’ tomorrow? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ No, but at least Jesus and Pearl will be there (and Fran won’t have to be.)  Are you gonna be okay at school w/ her? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Yeah…  [sad emoji] _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_??? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ I kinda expected Pearl to follow me out.  You know, when I left? But she and Levi stayed. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ That sucks.  I’m sorry. I wish she had.  I’ll work on being a better friend.  Even though...I shouldn’t have to try...it should just come naturally.  But not much does these days… _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ I appreciate the effort.  And I’m glad you’re awake.  I missed talking. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ If Lena tries anything tomorrow, can you and Pearl make sure Fran’s safe? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Of course.  Any advice? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Maybe let Pearl take the lead if you have to talk to her?  IDK how but Pearl just seems… _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Yeah.  All that practice dealing with her mom [awkward emoji]  Is it too crowded if I sleep here? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ No way. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ I mean, I’ll have to go down to let Pearl in...but… _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Stay. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_...Forgot that Fran breathes like she’s breathing into a microphone… _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ It’s from when she was a baby.  I think. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Ah. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ I didn’t know your  disappear day and Jesus’s getting back days were so close together…  You okay? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ No.  Raw as hell.  It’s why I was such an ass to Jesus.  I couldn’t even deal with his concern.  Because it felt...like...Levi kinda told him what I needed and then Jesus was trying to, like, do it? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ [awkward emoji] So it wasn’t authentic.  That does make it hard. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ And all his reactions still are seen as 100% valid and with me it’s like, “Well, it’s hard for Jesus.”  And like, I know that. It’s hard for me, too. I need for my stuff to be about me. I don’t try to put a whole ton of my stuff in when it’s his days...I guess except tonight.  How are you? With the days? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ You know, I used to wait and wait for Moms to check in w/ me on these days...and they just...never did?  I think you’re the first person to ask me.  _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Are they hard? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Not really?  And that feels weird to say, but on this day I didn’t even realize what was going on.  I found out really early on the 14th, when he was already back in the house. I thought I was dreaming.  He thought he was. We poked each other to make sure we were real. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Aw… _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Mostly I just hung out w/ him by the piano for like, the whole day.  He asked me not to leave so I stayed. How was the 10th for you? Need to talk abt it? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Mom, Dad and I went back to the rec center...where it happened.  I avoid that place like the plague now. So I had no idea, it closed.  And it was weird. Mostly I just felt anxious. ...And mad. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Mad? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Just between us, but this girl - older girl - maybe nineteen? Anyway, I’d thought she was my friend.  And she’s the one who tricked me into her car. So, I spent a lot of that day mad at her. ‘Cause what the hell?  Your life was fine before you tricked an 11-year-old into your car to come watch your imaginary baby… I mean, I did meet someone she claimed was her baby.  Might’ve been. But I just don’t trust anything she did anymore. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Wow, I hate her. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Right???  All the time, I thought I knew how it would go down.  You know, if I ever did get grabbed? And what actually happened is, I went willingly…  It just… It’s so messed up. I rode along super quiet, just waiting for her to get to ‘her house’ but we never did.  She pulled up next to this giant van and this dude was there.  _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ OMG _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ I stayed in the car as long as I could, trying to figure out what I should do.  She had my phone and had dropped on the floor, by the passenger seat, so I wanted to get it.  But I didn’t have time. She made me get out. Then this dude opened the van door and I backed up.  He grabbed me, and then it was exactly like I thought it’d go. I was screaming my head off: “Stranger!” but he called me this other name and acted like I was just his kid throwing a fit.  Put me in the van. And I became that girl. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ I think that girl was protecting this one. _

 

Dominique feels Mariana bump against her arm again.  Dominique bumps her back.

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Thanks for asking about me...and listening...think I’m gonna go to sleep or I’m gonna be an actual zombie at Fran’s school tomorrow. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ She’s up at 6:30 so if you need extra time, set an alarm to factor that in.  First class = 8:03. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Ugh, okay.  You gonna sleep okay? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Are you gonna stay with us? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Yeah.  Pearl can have the couch.  Hate that air mattress. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Me, too.  Night. _


	73. Everywhere

Fran wakes up all jammed against the wall practically, when her alarm goes off.  She hurries to get to her phone, but there’s no way out of this bed. Mariana’s sleeping in the middle and Dominique’s on the outside edge by the railing.  

 

Roberta’s glaring at them like she’s super mad Fran’s alarm woke her up.  It’s ironic because Roberta’s the closest one to Fran’s phone anyway. 

 

“Roberta.  Hit the red button,” Fran tells the cat, whispering.  Roberta’s really smart, but not that smart, it turns out.  (Or, she just doesn’t want to listen to humans.)

 

Dominique groans and gets out of bed, feeling for Fran’s phone to turn off her alarm.  “Morning.”

 

“Mmm,” Fran stretches and loses her balance, falling back into bed.  Mariana doesn’t move. It’s a good thing she sleeps hard.

 

Fran comes out to the kitchen, rubbing her eyes, to find Pearl already awake.  There’s blankets folded on the end of Dom’s couch and cereal and fruit in two spots at the table.

 

“Morning,” Pearl whispers.  “I didn’t think Mariana would be up yet, and I ate already, but there’s some breakfast for you two.”

 

“I gotta go in here,” Dom mumbles stopping off in the bathroom.

 

“She probably needs coffee,” Fran explains, apologetic.  She sits down to her Frosted Mini Wheats and is glad Pearl didn’t put any milk on them.  She just likes them dry and drinks the milk separate.

 

“Jesus says you usually get to school by 7:55 at the latest?” Pearl asks.  “So, maybe we leave at, what, 7:30? To be safe?”

 

Fran’s stomach does a little jump.  She’s finally awake enough to realize what Pearl’s even talking about.  School. Today. Like, in an hour. “That’s too early,” Fran says, quiet.  She’s not so hungry anymore.

 

“What time does Jesus usually leave?” Pearl wonders, coming over to sit at the table with Fran.

 

“Why didn’t you ask him?” Dominique grumbles, coming out of the bathroom.  “Y’all were over there long enough.”

 

Fran’s confused.  She’s never seen Dominique in a bad mood before.  Fran wonders if it’s her fault. If she did something wrong.  She stays really quiet, in case.

 

“Listen, I’m sorry I woke you up with that text.  I totally lost track of time.” Pearl says, and Fran realizes Feelings Time: Adulting Version must last for hours and hours.

 

Dominique sits down at the table and drinks some water but doesn’t touch her cereal or banana.  Maybe she’s not so hungry anymore either.

 

“What’s this?” Fran asks, poking the edge of a folded-up paper on the table.

 

“It’s private,” Dominique says, taking the paper and tucking it in her pocket.  

 

Francesca moves her hand to her lap.  Looks into her cereal bowl. There’s nothing good about today.

 

“Listen, I know I’m grouchy.  I’m sorry. I just...had a lot of feelings last night at Feelings Time and they’re still kinda there.  It’s not you,” Dominique says, like she can read Fran’s mind.

 

“Do you still wanna protect me, even though you’re mad?” Fran asks in a tiny voice.  She’s worried she might have to go to school all alone and deal with Lena and seeing Timothy and all of that by herself.

 

Dominique’s whole face softens.  “Babe, of course. Of course, I do.  Takes me a while to wake up but I’m gonna be there for you, alright?”

 

“I am, too,” Pearl nods.  “Finish your cereal, though so you can keep getting ready.”

 

“Okay…” Fran sighs.

 

\--

 

Walking into Anchor Beach Charter School holding Fran’s hand, Pearl feels positively ancient.  All these kids are so tiny. Even the seniors are all tiny like Levi.

 

Francesca had only felt comfortable walking into school if both Pearl and Dominique held one of her hands.

 

“If Lena comes, do I have to talk to her?” Fran worries.

 

“No.  If Lena comes, I’ll talk to her,” Pearl promises.  “And if she tries to bother you in class, you call us, or send us a message somehow and we’ll come find you.”

 

“Okay…” Fran worries.

 

Pearl can’t help but thinking about how adorable Francesca looks in a long-sleeved yellow tee shirt and pink leggings.  Dominique had done her hair and made sure her arm had a bandaid. Pearl had actually forgotten about Fran’s self-harm and the need for after-care.  She’s glad that Dominique is more on top of it. (Even though Pearl’s positive that there’s a lot unaired that she and Dominique will need to talk out.)

 

Cleo sniffs loudly and tries to get down.

 

“Cleo, it’s just school,” Fran tells her sweetly.  Turning to Pearl, Fran asks, “Wait. Has she ever been to school?”

 

“I don’t think so,” Pearl tells Fran honestly.

 

“Oh, so she’s probably nervous,” Fran nods.

 

They get inside, where Pearl and Dominique sign in as visitors and Pearl gets the third degree about Cleo.

 

“It’s a service dog,” Fran pipes up.  “It’s an accommodation, so it’s okay to have it here and it’s against the law to make her leave.”

 

“Well,” the secretary says, flustered.  “Shouldn’t be surprised that the principal’s daughter knows her stuff…”

 

As if she’s been conjured, Lena Adams Foster is there, walking up from her office, behind the secretary.

 

“Frankie?” she asks.

 

Pearl feels it, as Fran drops back between Pearl and Dominique, hiding behind Dom.

 

“Can you walk her to class?” Pearl whispers.  “I’ll take care of this.” She squeezes Fran’s hand, which has gone icy in hers.

 

“Yeah, come on, babe.  You’re safe with me. Just keep walking,” Dominique urges lowly.

 

\--

 

Despite Pearl’s earlier words about walking Fran to class, Dominique stops off in the library first, to check in.  Fran had been stiff and it had been difficult for her to keep walking and not crane her neck and look over her shoulder at Lena.

 

She pulls out chairs for both of them, so they’re face to face.  “Look at me, babe… It’s Dominique,” she urges gently. “You’re safe with me.  We’re not gonna let her hurt you.”

 

“But she did,” Francesca whispers, after a brief glance at Dominique.  

 

“I know.  She did. And I’m so sorry about that.”  Dominique goes quiet after a while. 

 

“Your feelings were still there, and that’s why you were grouchy?” Fran asks carefully, still studying her lap.

 

“Yeah, they were,” Dominique confirms.

 

“Did they make you feel like you were in tons of danger?” Fran asks.

 

“Kind of,” Dominique allows.  “They made me feel ignored. And to me?  Feeling ignored does feel like tons of danger.”

 

“Oh,” Fran says, even though it doesn’t look like anything’s any clearer.  “So...is it okay when feelings are still there?”

 

“What do you mean?” Dominique asks.  

 

“Like...it doesn’t make you a big baby that you’re afraid about being ignored and it doesn’t make me a big baby that I’m…” Fran drops her voice.  “Afraid of her…”

 

“No, it doesn’t.  It makes sense that scared feelings are still there,” Dominique reassures.

 

“I really wanna go to choir,” Fran almost whines.  “But what if she tries to barge in and makes Kari have me go with her?”

 

“Francesca.  If she comes to your class?  Or if she sends a pass for you?  You call us.”

 

“Fireworks.  You said,” Francesca remembers.

 

“Right.  Text us fireworks and we’ll know where you are.  Just stay where you are. Wait for us to come. We’ll just be in the library, so it’ll only take us a minute to get to you.”

 

“Do you think Pearl’s still talking to her?” Fran asks.

 

“I think it’s a safe bet,” Dominique nods.

 

“So...could you walk with me to my choir class?” Fran asks.

 

“Definitely,” Dominique reassures.  

 

They walk to the door, which is closed and before she goes in, Dominique bends down and kisses Francesca soundly on the head.  “Go sing it out.”

 

Fran smiles a little.  “That’s what Mariana says, too.”

 

“Well, Mariana knows what’s up then.  Go, sing,” Dominique urges.

 

“Will you come back and walk me to Reading?” Fran asks.

 

“Sure.  We’ll be here,” Dominique promises.

 

“Okay, love you,” Fran says quietly.

 

“Love you, babe.  You got this,” Dom encourages.

 

Dominique watches through the thin panel of glass in the door until Fran finds her seat.  Until the child sitting next to her shares their folder. Until Fran’s lost in the music. Then, Dominique heads for the library.

 

\--

 

Pearl sits in Lena’s office, feeling intensely awkward.  The silence has built around them for a good solid minute.  Finally, Lena glances up and speaks, as if Pearl was the one to request to see her.

 

“So, how’s Frankie doing?” Lena asks, and the name sends a visceral jolt of distaste through Pearl.  She knows for a fact that Francesca hates that nickname. Pearl remembers how she went by Frankie when she was four.  But definitely not since she’s been eleven.

 

“She’s fine,” Pearl insists, a little stiff.

 

“Why wasn’t she here yesterday?” Lena pushes.  “I know Jesus called in and excused her.”

 

“She wasn’t feeling well,” Pearl maintains.  “She’s better now.”

 

Lena laughs wryly.  “Oh, I’m sure she is.  I’m sure she has you all wrapped around her little finger.”

 

Pearl doesn’t respond to Lena’s attempts to badmouth her own daughter.  “I’m not sure why I’m here, as you’re going to get the chance to speak with Jesus and Mariana tonight.”

 

“The twins.  But again, not Frankie,” Lena crosses her arms.  “Why is that?”

 

“I think you know perfectly well why not…” Pearl keeps eye contact.  “You and Stef are going to get to talk to Jesus and Mariana tonight.”

 

Lena sits forward a little at her desk.  “You can’t keep my daughter from me, Pearl.”

 

“Until you and Stef talk to Mariana and Jesus and show some real improvement?  I think we’ve proven that we can.”

 

“You had no right to call CPS on us, Pearl…” Lena insists in an angry whisper.

 

Pearl blinks, confused.  “I may have dropped everything to come and support Fran and Mariana but I didn’t call CPS.  I was in Minnesota.”

 

“Right.  Who did then?” Lena asks, skeptical.

 

“I have no idea, but that means there’s more than just me and Jesus and Mariana who are concerned for Francesca here.  I’m going to go. But I’ll be on campus,” Pearl tells Lena, as she carries Cleo out the office door.

 

\--

 

Dominique’s in the library, thumbing through a dog-eared copy of  Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone when Pearl walks in.  She has every intention of talking to Dominique about what she learned from Lena just now, but she has some apologizing to do first.

 

“Hey…” she says, sitting down.  “So, I was waiting until we had a minute alone to talk.  You opened up to us, and then I just went and proved you right by staying behind with Jesus…  I want you to know that I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s fine.  I talked to Mariana,” Dominique shrugs.

 

“But it’s not fine,” Pearl insists.  “You deserve just as much care and consideration as Jesus does, but we don’t show you that.”

 

Dominique raises her eyebrows.

 

“I know, it took us long enough to realize, right?” Pearl comments ruefully.  “The truth is, I should have left with you last night, and I didn’t. I apologize.”

 

“You apologize?” Dominique repeats.  “What do I do with that?”

 

Pearl thinks.  “Next time, I’ll follow you.”

 

“Yeah, ‘cause y’all’s track record of choosing me over Jesus is so great…” Dominique mutters.  

 

“You’re right.  It hasn’t been great.  And that’s on us. Levi and I were both struggling when you came back in April.  Somehow, both of us always felt supported. Loved. Seen. I’m sorry we haven’t been able to do that for you.”

 

“Okay…” Dominique mutters.

 

“So...is it okay if I have your dates sometime?  When you’re ready?” Pearl asks.

 

Dominique glances up, surprised.  “Levi didn’t give them to you?”

 

“No.  He said you only consented to giving them to Jesus.” Pearl confides.

 

Pearl’s phone pings with a text and she gets busy saving the dates to her calendar.  “I wanna be here for you. Truly, I do. And I’m gonna show you that,” Pearl promises.  “By the way, are you okay in here? No triggers?” she asks lowering her voice.

 

Dominique lets out a breath she’s been holding.  “You remembered.”

 

“Yeah, of course, I remembered, Dominique.  It’s why I wanted to make sure I came if you did.  I didn’t want you here alone, knowing how much it could scare you.”

 

“Wait.  Seriously?  That’s even before the whole mess with Jesus?  And then after it, you still wanted to come?” Dominique checks, disbelieving.

 

“Regardless of inter-Avoider conflicts, your safety still matters.  It always matters.”

 

There’s quiet for a while until Dominique shakes her head in answer to Pearl’s question.  No triggers. Then, speaks up: “So...what happened at the principal’s office?” she jokes.

 

“Oh.  My God.  I have to tell you.  But I can’t... _ tell you _ -tell you,” Pearl drops her voice and sends Dom a text instead:

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Someone called CPS on S and L… _

 

\--

 

The minute Dominique gets the text, she knows.

 

The people who called CPS on Stef and Lena?  

 

Have got to be her parents.


	74. If You're Gone

Mariana wakes up alone in Dominique’s loft bed.  She, somehow, has Night-Night crushed in her right hand.  Remembers that Jesus must’ve grabbed it for her on his quick trip home.

 

Just like that, Mari’s remembering that tonight, she’s due to go home and actually sit across the table from Moms.  That they’ll expect her to be able to converse, when Stef regularly interrupts or mocks her and Lena’s always pressing her to use more words or better words or something.

 

Just like that, Mariana feels exhausted.  She gets why Dominique can spend long periods of time up here.

 

There’s loud purring by her face and Roberta nudges her.

 

“Yeah.  Morning,” Mariana tells her.

 

Roberta meows a tiny, adorable meow and Mariana opens one eye.  “Hi. You’re really cute. Did Dom tell you to do this? Huh?” Mariana asks, petting Roberta.

 

After approximately two belly rubs, Roberta’s done with the affection and jumps down.  She turns back to Mariana, tail swishing expectantly.

 

“Okay, okay…” Mariana sighs, climbing down the ladder carefully, having stowed her blanket in the corner by the wall, near Fran’s own.

 

Walking into the kitchen, Mariana’s relieved that there’s no sign of the air mattress.  On the table, there’s a S’mores granola bar and a K-cup, left by Dominique, probably. Mariana smiles to herself.  Takes her time making coffee. Showering. Getting dressed (in the same clothes again - she’ll have to pick up some extras tonight.  This is gross.)

 

It feels good not to be rushed.  To have some honest-to-God quiet.  She just hangs out, watching Netflix on Dominique’s couch with Roberta until it’s almost noon and then figures she should put in an appearance next door.  Jesus will probably have lunch going.

 

“Bye, Roberta.  See you in a bit,” Mariana says, closing the door and crossing the hall to knock at Jesus’s.

 

\--

 

Levi hears the knock and glances over his shoulder at Jesus, who is staring into his pantry.  “You want me to get that?” he asks.

 

So far?  Jesus has been in a big mood, and Levi has tried to steer clear of him and give him lots of space.  But in a tiny one-bedroom? Not always possible.

 

“Ask who it is…” Jesus mutters softly when Levi is sure that Jesus hasn’t heard him.

 

“Who is it?” Levi asks.

 

“Mariana,” he hears.

 

“It’s Mariana,” Levi relays unnecessarily.

 

“Well, let her in,” Jesus says, clearly irritated.  (Even though Levi’s not about to do anything to compromise Jesus’s space without consent, regardless of the fact that he’s crabby as hell.)

 

“Hey,” Levi says.  “You… You’re here…” he manages.  (Thank God he hadn’t blurted the  _ you look nice  _ that was locked and loaded the minute he laid eyes on her.)  God, she even smells good. Like lavender and lemons and...he’s not sure what, but Levi’s pretty sure it’s about to hypnotize him.

 

“Can I come in?” Mari asks.

 

“Oh!  Yes! Yeah...sorry…” Levi holds the door open and stands aside.

 

“Hey,” Mari calls at Jesus’s back.  She gives Levi a look and he shrugs.  “What’s up in the pantry?”

 

“You weren’t here, so how could you know?” Jesus mutters under his breath.

 

“Okay,” Mariana mutters, a little testy.  

 

Levi looks on, interested.  This is looking like it’s shaping up to be the first twin-fight he’s ever witnessed.  He knows Mari and Jesus won’t come to blows or anything...still...he’s never seen twins fight before.

 

“I was with Fran,” Mariana reminds.  

 

“Yeah, I know.  Just saying, it’s like…  You’re asking about it now…” Jesus finally turns from the cupboard.  He looks like he hasn’t slept all night.

 

“Because I’m here now,” Mariana fills in, sitting down at the table.

 

“Yeah, too little too late.  By now, you’ve probably already heard all about and taken sides and whatever, okay?  It’s fine. I know somebody had to watch Fran.”

 

“Jesus, I’m not taking sides,” Mariana objects, and it’s like she’s annoyed at the implication.

 

“Well, whatever.  I needed you and you weren’t here,” he insists.  

 

“I can’t read your mind,” Mariana points out.  “Twin telepathy aside.”

 

“What’s your point?” he asks.

 

“Don’t blame me for not coming through for you if you’re not even gonna let me know you need me.  That’s...kind of abuse-y.”

 

Jesus blinks and sits down heavily across from her.  What Mariana’s said finally seems to have resonated with Jesus.  “Sorry. It’s just...I feel terrible. I hate today. And I’ve been awake since 5 AM.”

 

“Why?” Mariana wrinkles her nose.

 

“Waiting for you.  I wanted to see you.  But I didn’t wanna wake you up.” Jesus admits.

 

“Levi, you can sit,” Mariana invites, patting a chair between them.

 

Taking his time, Dad-blanket around him just because, Levi approaches them at the table.  “Are y’all done fighting?” he asks.

 

“Yeah,” Jesus nods.  “I think so. All our fights are done in, like, five minutes.”

 

“Oh.  Good to know then,” Levi nods.

 

“Thanks for not waking me up at 5 AM,” Mariana points out.  “But I’m here now. I did wanna see you, too.”

 

“You did?” Jesus asks.

 

“Of course,” Mariana nods.  “I was just...kinda relaxing in the quiet next door.  I haven’t really had the chance since my accident to just...like...take my time getting ready in the morning.  Without someone helicoptering over me or rushing me.”

 

“I just...it’s hard for me when things happen and you’re not here,” Jesus admits.

 

“I know…” Mariana nods.  “Same.”

 

“Like...I want your support.  I mean, Levi and Pearl, you guys were great, it’s just...Mari and I have history.”

 

“I get it,” Levi nods.

 

“And it’s like...just hard...to need someone...and then they’re not there and…” Jesus blinks like he’s just realizing something.  “Oh, damn it.”

 

“What?” Mariana asks.  “Are you okay?”

 

“This is how Dom feels,” Jesus says slowly.  “Like...even though you didn’t mean to not come through for me it still hurts like hell that you weren’t there.  I get that you weren’t ignoring me on purpose but it still feels like too little too late. It’s not exactly the same, because Fran’s actually a kid, who needs an adult there with her, but…  I think I get it now. I was an ass to her. Holy shit…”

 

Levi just watches as Jesus scrubs a hand down his face.

 

“Where is she?” Jesus asks.

 

“Dominique and Pearl are at school with Fran,” Levi passes along.

 

“Oh.  You think she’s okay?” Jesus asks.  “You know what? Never mind. I’m gonna stop asking other people this shit and I’m gonna check in with her myself....God, I don’t know why I’m so slow about that…”

 

“Jesus?” Mariana asks.  

 

He glances at her.  And Levi feels like a really obvious third wheel in the middle of some twin thing while they just kinda look at each other.  And finally, Jesus takes a deep breath. And lets it out.

 

“Don’t work yourself up,” Mariana warns gently.  “I wasn’t here, but I can tell when you’ve kinda...hit the wall, so to speak...emotionally.”

 

Levi’s surprised when Jesus kinda smiles to himself and mutters, “Not exactly a figure of speech…”

 

“What?” Mari asks.

 

Jesus sobers and holds her gaze for a minute before looking away, one hand at the back of his head.  Levi wonders if he needs ice. “Nothing...I just...kinda spun out last night. Hit the wall, literally.”

 

“Say what you mean,” Mari encourages, soft.

 

“Remember at the cabin with Moms all those years ago?  We were sixteen. I had spent the afternoon at Pearl’s cabin but hadn’t told Moms and so…”

 

“So, we all thought you were gone…” Mariana fills in.

 

“And after, I…” Jesus ventures.

 

A light of understanding is there in Mariana’s eyes.  “Are you okay? Did you get to eat?”

 

“Working on it…” Jesus nods.

 

“Breakfast?” Mariana asks.

 

“No,” he shakes his head.

 

“You’ve been up since 5:00, and it’s after noon.  Jesus, you need to eat. You want me or Levi to find you something?”

 

“I can do it,” Jesus insists.

 

“Dude.  All due respect?  You’ve been staring into the pantry for at least a half hour.  Can we help? Bring you something?” Levi asks.

 

“I mean...I guess…” Jesus admits.  “I should text Dom.”

 

“Good idea.  You do that. Mari can grab you something to eat for now, and I can be on lunch duty,” Levi decides.

 

Mariana gets up and finds Jesus an orange and tosses it to him.  He holds it and smells it until it seems to register what he’s holding, and Jesus starts to finally peel it.

 

While he eats the orange and texts Dominique, Levi’s busy making quick quesadillas with salsa, beans, veggies and the fake cheese that Jesus has, remembering that Mariana’s not much for meat or dairy.

 

“This okay?” Levi asks, setting one down on a plate in front of Jesus.  Dudley pops his head up from under the table and sniffs.

 

“Yeah, I know you think it’s okay,” Levi croons, just holding himself back from scratching Dudley behind the ears.  “But I’m asking Jesus.”

 

“Yeah.  It’s good.  Thanks.”

 

\--

 

Actually, the idea of anything Mexican right now isn’t exactly sitting right with Jesus.  Mexican has an automatic association to Ana, and to neglect. But then again. These aren’t exactly quesadillas made from whatever cheap stuff they had around.  These are fancy. Vegetarian, even, for Mari.

 

Jesus has been thinking for ages about what he can text Dominique and he finally just gives up and says what’s on his mind.

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ I get so hung up about not saying the wrong thing to you that I end up not saying anything.  Sucks to not have ppl come through. Still sorry I did that. I won’t do it again. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ You’re fine, Jesus.  You’re not in my debt forever.  You okay? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Rough day.  You? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Yeah.  Rough day. _

 

\--

 

Mariana’s at the sink washing the lunch dishes when Levi comes up beside her and effortlessly just starts rinsing.

 

It feels crowded.  She can smell his cologne.  And holy hell, he has beautiful hands.  How has she never noticed Levi’s hands? In and out of the water, it’s almost too much.  Mariana glances away. Keeps washing.

 

“So…” she ventures in a whisper.

 

“Hmm?” he asks, and turns the water off.  

 

A glance behind her tells Mari that Jesus has moved from the table and is probably (hopefully) crashing on the futon in the living room.  The fluorescent light above Jesus’s sink buzzes, and takes all of Mariana’s focus. She glances up, frowning at it.

 

Levi follows her gaze and finds the tiny switch on his side, turning it off.  “Better?” he asks.

 

“So…” she tries again, nodding.  “I wanna do this thing…”

 

“Okay,” Levi nods.  “What kind of thing?” he asks softly.

 

“Back on our birthday...when Stef...like...said all that about my accident?  I went looking on Lena’s Facebook. Because, you know, she’s pretty public about posting about stuff…”

 

“Obviously,” Levi nods, his disapproval clear in his tone.

 

“So...I’m pretty sure she probably wrote something about my accident...like when it happened.  I’ve been kinda scrolling back a little at a time on her page...and last night. I found it.”

 

“What did you find?” Levi asks.  “She wrote about you?”

 

Mariana nods.

 

“You found a post?” he asks.

 

She shakes her head.  

 

“You _ didn’t _ find a post,” Levi adjusts, trying to keep up.

 

“It’s a...whole thing…” Mariana swallows.  “Like...all of them…”

 

“You found a whole bunch of posts…” Levi realizes, concerned.

 

“Yeah.  On this...you know those places families update when they’re family member is sick or whatever?”

 

“No, I don’t know…” Levi shakes his head.

 

“Maybe your dad had one…” Mariana ventures.

 

“He didn’t,” Levi says, his voice a little more intense.  “We weren’t that kind of family.”

 

“Okay…  Well, Stef and Lena...or at least Lena...is that kind of family…”

 

“So, there’s like a whole website about this?  Is that what you’re saying?” Levi asks, incredulous.

 

“Yeah.  And I clicked on it.  To be sure it was still, like, alive and not defunct.  But it’s there. I clicked out of it before I could read anything.  But, I mean...if I wanted to...would you? It’s hard, with them not paragraphing and whatever.”

 

“I can read it.  Sure. We can, together,” Levi offers.  “I think today’s gonna be busy, but what about tomorrow?  We could go to Avoidance. Just the two of us.”

 

“Don’t skip anything,” Mariana warns.

 

“I won’t,” Levi promises.  “I wouldn’t skip anything. It’s about you.  You deserve to know what they said.”

 

“So, tomorrow?” Mariana checks.

 

“It’s a date,” Levi nods, and then feels his ears burn hot.

 

But Mariana’s smiling, just a little bit.  She reaches over and turns the water back on.  Keeps washing the dishes.


	75. Welcome Back to You

It’s been so long since Pearl’s been in middle school, she’s forgotten how intense the schedule can be.  It’s a good thing she double checked at ten minutes to nine because Fran’s choir class lets out in three minutes, and Pearl and Dominique have promised to be there.  To safely walk Fran to her next class (where, thankfully, she’ll be for the next three hours.)

 

They arrive outside the door at the same time as the bell rings, signaling passing time.  A little girl with a shaved head (for convenience rather than illness) has spotted Dominique.

 

“Dominique!  OMG, hi!” she wraps her arms around Dominique, who looks startled, but returns the hug.  

 

“Hey.  I remember you from last year when I talked to Fran’s class.  But I’m not so great with names. Help me out,” Dominique says.

 

“Isabella,” Isabella beams.

 

“Isabella.  Good to see you again,” Dominique tells her.

 

Pearl can feel it when Isabella’s eyes lock onto Cleo’s.  “I know not to touch a service dog,” she says seriously. “Francesca’s brother has one, too.”

 

Flustered, Pearl can’t think of what to say immediately.  “I’m glad,” she finally manages. “That’s a good thing to know.”

 

Just in the nick of time, Francesca comes out of choir class.  Isabella disappears into the crowd of kids.

 

“Hey.  How was it?” Pearl asks.

 

“Good,” Fran shrugs.  

 

She’s not the most talkative as she moves, and it takes Pearl a moment to remember that she’s not necessarily had a bad time, or is feeling antisocial.  But that it just takes more of her energy to navigate. That she prefers to talk sitting down.

 

Sure enough, once she’s settled in a man named Craig’s class, Fran’s talkative again.  Dominique and Pearl have both pulled up chairs for the couple minutes they have before next period starts.

 

“Today was Listening Day in choir,” Fran passes along.  “Jin brought in music to share.”

 

“Ah.  That’s good,” Dominique says.

 

“Yeah.  But now all the rest of my classes are not-fun ones,” Fran frowns.  “Hey, are you guys still staying?”

 

“Yup,” Pearl nods.  “Just thought we’d stop in and talk to you before class starts.”

 

“Hey…” Fran lowers her voice.  “Was Lena really mad this morning?”

 

“No, she was fine,” Pearl nods.  “I’m going to go talk to her and Stef tonight.  So, I told her that.”

 

“Do I have to go?” Fran worries.

 

“No, you’re going with me and Levi, remember?  To my house? To hang out with my dad while me and Levi talk to my mom for a bit.”

 

“Oh yeah,” Fran smiles.  “I do remember that.”

 

The bell rings again and Pearl stands up.  “That’s our cue. We’ll be back at noon to walk you to lunch.  Make sure you get there alright.”

 

“11:59,” Fran clarifies.

 

“Right,” Pearl nods.

 

“Text if you need us,” Dominique reminds.  “We can be here ASAP.”

 

“Okay, bye,” Fran waves.

 

\--

 

“God, they’re all so tiny and cute at this age…” Dominique says quietly, when they’re back, and settled into the library.  “You ever read  Harry Potter ?”

 

Pearl shakes her head.  “Just what we read last night.”

 

“I’m just saying.  We have, like, three hours, until we walk Fran to the cafeteria.  You could definitely get through the first book if you wanted…” Dominique keeps nudging it toward Pearl, wiggling her eyebrows.  “You wanna read it. I can tell.”

 

“Not a huge fan of magic…” Pearl reveals.

 

“Okay.  It’s not evil.  It’s fun. Like Santa, or The Easter Bunny,” Dominique starts out, before Pearl is able to say more.

 

“I don’t think it’s evil, it’s just difficult for me to relate to things not really entrenched in reality.” Pearl shares.

 

“You know who raised him, right?” Dominique asks seriously.  “No offense, to quote our favorite eleven-year-old, but you might have more in common with Harry Potter than you think…”

 

“Alright,” Pearl nods, “I’m intrigued.”

 

“Good, you should be.  It’s the most amazing series of books to ever exist,” Dominique gushes.

 

“High praise,” Pearl warns, a wry smile on her lips.

 

“Just wait, though,” Dominique pulls her chair around so she and Pearl are sitting side by side and she starts to read aloud, holding one side of the book, while Pearl holds the other.

 

\--

 

They’ve made a good dent in  Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone  40 minutes later when both Pearl and Dominique’s phones chime in unison.

 

Dominique glances at hers, which is out on the table.  Pearl glances too, out of habit.

 

“Shit,” Dominique curses.

 

Fireworks.

 

“Can you follow with Cleo if I run ahead?” Pearl asks over her shoulder.

 

“Yeah, go!” Dominique nods, on her feet and at Pearl’s heels.

 

\--

 

Pearl gets to the door of Craig’s classroom first, and taps on the glass window pane once. Fran, seated closest to the door, glances up, her eyes huge.  She visibly relaxes seeing Pearl and raises her hand for the bathroom pass.

 

When Fran steps out into the hall, Pearl notices the pink sheet of paper clutched in her right hand, as well as the block of wood that Craig gave her to use as a bathroom pass.

 

“What happened, babe?” Dominique asks.

 

Fran glances around, cautious.  “I really actually need to go pee,” she says, and Pearl and Dominique nod.  When they get to the bathroom, Pearl’s ready to wait outside, but Fran asks, “Can you get the door?”

 

Pearl nods, and once she has it propped open, Fran darts inside and waves them in.  Pearl and Dominique both follow. Pearl’s definitely confused. Fran closes the door behind them and locks it.  

 

It occurs to Pearl that Fran chose the single, smaller bathroom, as opposed to the larger one with stalls for this reason.  It locks.

 

“Can you guys turn around?  So I can pee?” Fran asks.

 

They do.

 

Pearl tries not to listen, but it’s awkward at best, and she finds herself unwillingly thinking about her own mother, and her mother’s history of being alone with children in bathrooms.  She shakes her head to clear it as she hears a flush. Neither Pearl or Dominique turn until they hear Francesca turn the water on at the sink.

 

They wait until she’s done washing her hands.

 

Finally, she takes the pink, crumpled pass out of her pocket and holds it out to Pearl.  “She sent me this,” Fran says in a voice that’s tense and deep. A little monotone.

 

Pearl takes the paper and reads it.  Lena has filled in all the blanks requesting that Francesca come to the principal’s office at 10 AM.

 

It’s 9:45.

 

“I didn’t even do anything wrong,” Fran says in a whisper.  “I was doing all my work… I don’t wanna talk to her. What if she gets mad at me again?”

 

Dominique gathers Francesca in her arms for a hug while Pearl shows Dominique the pass.  “Do you wanna stay with Francesca while I go talk to Lena?” she asks.

 

“Of course,” Dominique nods.

 

“Alright.  Come on, Cleo.  I need some backup for this,” Pearl tells the dog and gathers her up to carry to Lena’s office.  Over her shoulder, Pearl says, “It’s gonna be okay. Fran, just stay with Dominique. And I’ll check back here or in the library when I’m done.”

 

\--

 

“I’m scared,” Francesca confesses.  “And I’m missing snack time…”

 

“I’m sorry, babe, we can get you a snack,” Dominique promises, but it doesn’t help.

 

“No, thank you,” she grumbles.  “I don’t even feel like eating right now…  I just want Lena to leave me alone and stop sending me passes.  I hate it when she does that. I can’t even concentrate at all on school.”

 

“I hear you.  That makes a lot of sense,” Dominique nods.  “Do you want some water at least?”

 

“No.  More water will mean I have to pee more, and peeing more means I miss more class. We only have so many bathroom passes per quarter and if we use them up, too bad.  Plus, it takes me years to go to the bathroom…”

 

“Babe, you need to drink, though…” Dominique urges, concerned.  

 

“I can drink when I get home,” Fran shrugs.  “I hope Lena’s not too mean to Pearl...and not too mad at me…”

 

\--

 

Pearl walks into Lena’s office promptly at 10 AM and puts the pass for Francesca down on Lena’s desk.  She would so cross her arms right now, but holding Cleo doesn’t allow it.

 

“Where’s my daughter?” Lena asks, impatient.

 

“We’ll talk tonight,” Pearl restates.  “In the meantime? Stop harassing Francesca.”

 

“I want her there tonight, Pearl,” Lena says, as if she’s Pearl’s mother, with the power to order her around.

 

“Well, you’re getting me, Jesus and Mariana,” Pearl repeats.  

 

“I just want to apologize to her.  How difficult is that to understand?” Lena snaps.

 

“Apologize to her when you have something to stand on.  Some ground under you. Something that shows her that you’re not just going to go back to your old ways.”

 

“Pearl, I resent you speaking to me like this,” Lena insists.

 

“And I resent you using your position of power to try to get your daughter one on one on school time, and as her principal, to solve a personal problem.”

 

“Well, I wouldn’t have to do that if The Avoiders would stop filling her head with this nonsense that we’re monsters.”

 

“I’m going.  If you send Francesca a pass again?  You’ll get me. If you try to pull her out of class?  You’ll get me. Do yourself a favor? Accept no.”

 

Pearl turns and leaves.

 

\--

 

Dominique’s quietly studying the grain in the table when she and Pearl finally sit back down across the table from each other.  Fran’s safely in the cafeteria by now, encouraged by Dom to eat and drink, because it’s her right as a human to use the bathroom.

 

But Dominique can’t stop mulling over this morning.  The call to CPS that she is sure came from her parents.  She doesn’t have proof, but she has her gut. And Dominique’s gut is almost never wrong.

 

“So...I think my parents called CPS on Stef and Lena,” Dominique whispers.

 

“What?” Pearl leans in.  “Seriously?”

 

“They saw the video, Pearl.  My dad made a point to watch it.  So did my mom. And now? The last couple days?  They’ve been quiet. Not talking to me nearly as much about the inconsequential stuff.  Something’s on their mind.”

 

“They have a single mind?” Pearl teases dryly.

 

“On this, they do,” Dominique nods.  “I just...I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I tell them I know?  I know for sure I’m not about to tell Francesca. I don’t even know if I’m gonna tell Jesus or Mariana…”

 

“Does Levi know?” Pearl asks.

 

Dominique shakes her head.  “And this is just a suspicion, but...Pearl...no one else knows what we know.  No one else saw that video but us, and my parents. I know Jesus and Mariana would never report Stef and Lena.  They have way too much wrapped up in this. I know I didn’t do it. And you and Levi were out of state. So, that literally just leaves them.”

 

“Do you think…” Pearl ventures.  “I mean...maybe it’s the kick in the pants they need...to do some real work on themselves and their parenting.  Even if no one follows up.”

 

“No one’s gonna follow up, Pearl,” Dominique scoffs.  “Stef’s a police officer. She’s well-known, well-liked.  White.”

 

“She is that,” Pearl agrees.  

 

“But, yeah, I hope it’s incentive, to, you know, whatever…” Dominique shrugs as her phone buzzes again.  “Oh, what the hell, Lena.”

 

“Need me to run again?” Pearl asks.  “The Wests are fast. I ran track once upon a time…”

 

“Just kidding, it’s not Lena...or Fran…  It’s Jesus,” Dominique realizes.

 

“Jesus?” Pearl asks.  “What’s up?”

 

Dominique blows out a breath.  “I don’t know. Everything’s still so weird with him, and he’s so worried about offending me now.  I would say I just want things to go back to the way they were, but…”

 

“But the way they were was lopsided,” Pearl points out.

 

“So, in the meantime, I’m absolving him left and right so he can feel comfortable enough to even ask me if I’m okay…”

 

“Yikes,” Pearl comments.

 

“Anyway, yeah.  Not sure what to do there.  I just...would it kill him to just be real?  Like, be authentic with me?”

 

“Maybe you should ask him,” Pearl ventures.

 

“Oh God,” Dominique smiles, frustrated and puts her head down on the table.  “I am so done with middle school. I hated it when I was there, and I just wanna be done with the drama…”

 

“Friendships are worth it, though,” Pearl reminds.

 

“Yeah, I guess they are.” Dominique nods.  “You three gonna be okay with Stef and Lena tonight?” 

 

“Are you gonna be okay with Levi grilling your mom?  And Fran?” Pearl asks back.

 

“Levi and Fran are alright,” Dominique nods.  “I got ‘em.”

 

“Good.  I got Jesus and Mariana, too,” Pearl nods.  “So, everybody’s safe.”


	76. I Will Show You Love

Jaimie has to rush to be sure she’s home to meet Dominique and Levi.  Michael has already promised that he’ll have a snack ready for Fran and that he’s “amped” to do homework with her.

 

But Jaimie’s known Michael for nearly their whole lives.  They met when they were kids. In first grade. Reconnected in high school, and have been in each other’s lives every single day since.  It’s for that reason that Jaimie can see through Michael.

 

This whole thing with Francesca and her parents (and them reporting Stef and Lena) has him shook.  And she is, too, honestly. It’s the slap that Jaimie’s not over. The slap, and the fact that Stef then expected Fran to manage her own honest reaction to being hurt.

 

It’s hard to know how Francesca will be today.  Hard to keep feeding Dom half-truths about what’s really going on. But especially now?  Knowing that there’s not gonna be anyone looking into this mess? It doesn’t seem necessary to bring her in and stress her out besides.

 

“Hey, how old’s Levi, Michael?” Jaimie calls from the bedroom.  After working a full day, she can’t get out of the uniform fast enough.  She needs comfortable clothes right now - and she can’t go straight for pajamas.

 

“Uh, I don’t know...an age?” Michael answers, distracted.

 

“An age,” Jaimie scoffs, laughing.  “Real helpful. Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Michael nods, focused on his laptop screen.

 

“What are you even doing right now?” Jaimie wonders, coming up behind Michael to massage his tense shoulders.

 

“Jaim, I am in the sixth grade vortex right now…” Michael answers, distant.

 

“Babe, what the hell is the sixth grade vortex?” Jaimie wonders.

 

“It’s the place where I...mean to get hip to all the sixth grade homework...and I end up remembering when Dominique was this age… Planning that zombie party she loved so much…” Michael’s voice is heavy with feeling.

 

Jaimie puts her arms around him.  Presses her cheek to his. “She did love that party.  Birthday-planning-Dad is one of your best skills.”

 

“It just...hits me out of nowhere, you know?”  Michael takes off his glasses. Blinks.

 

“Hey.  I know.  And if you need me to keep Francesca with Dominique and Levi so you can do your thing?  I got her.”

 

“No.  I do,” Michael breathes.  “It’s just...thinking about them hurting her...and then thinking about...the rest of it...it’s just...a lot.  I think I need a brain break.”

 

“Candy Crush it all day, babe.  I won’t judge,” Jaimie reassures.  “Get a couple rounds in. But they’ll be here in a few.”

 

“Yep,” Michael nods, loading Candy Crush.

 

“Let me know if you need help,” Jaimie calls.  

 

“With the game or my life?” he jokes sardonically.

 

“I’m open to either,” Jaimie tells him.

 

“Cool.  Same here.  Need any Reassuring-Dad for talking to Levi, I got that covered.  Or you know, other life stuff. Damn, this is a hard level. This is why I took a break.”

 

Jaimie smiles.  “I love you, babe.”

 

“I love you more than tiramisu and fresh coffee.  Now please don’t distract me, I’m on a roll here.” Michael says.

 

“More than tiramisu and fresh coffee is next-level love,” Jaimie remarks.

 

“You know it,” Michael nods.

 

\--

 

Levi tries not to obsess as they approach Dominique’s front door.  He jumps a little as Dominique’s dad comes out the door to offer Francesca a hand up the steps.

 

“It’s okay.  Levi’s my backup,” Fran reassures.

 

Michael stops short.  “Sorry. Force of habit.”

 

Francesca climbs their two steps and makes it into the house.  Climbs the flight inside. When she’s safely up them and has hugged Dominique’s mom, she asks, “What’s  _ forcive habit _ ?”

 

Michael smiles.  “Force  _ of _ habit,” he repeats pausing between the first two words.  “It means I’m so used to helping you up the stairs that I just did it and didn’t even think about it.”

 

“Oh.  Not like you were gonna force me?” Fran asks, sitting at the table.

 

“No.  We don’t force people in this house,” Michael reassures, even though Levi still isn’t sure what Fran was worried she might be forced to do.

 

“Levi, this is my dad, Michael Williams.  Dad, this is Levi,” Dominique introduces.

 

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Levi says, shaking Michael’s hand warmly.

 

“Good to meet you.  Call me Michael,” Michael reassures.

 

Levi nods.  Swallowing once and then turns to Dominique’s mother, standing behind them.  She’s dressed casually, but still has makeup on. Dominique mentioned she was just coming from work.

 

“And this is my mom.  Mom, this is Levi,” Dominique introduces.

 

Levi nods once, not able to bring himself to shake her hand.

 

“Nice to meet you, Levi.  You can call me Jaimie. Where would you feel most comfortable?  Kitchen? Living room?” she asks.

 

Levi glances at Dominique.  “We could sit on the deck,” she offers quietly.

 

He nods once.  

 

“Can I get you anything?” Jaimie asks.  “Water? Coffee? Something to eat?”

 

Levi looks at Dominique, officially freaked out.  A mom offering him food right off the bat? Definitely could be a danger sign.

 

“It’s alright,” Dominique reassures.  “I can tell her you’re not comfortable with that, if you want.”

 

Levi nods, once, again.

 

He tries not to watch as Dominique leans over and whispers to her mom.

 

“Alright, well, I’m going to grab some coffee, and you two can help yourself to what you want. Make yourself at home,” Jaimie encourages.

 

“Jaimie?” Francesca calls from the living room, where she’s eating the peanut buttered apple slices Michael had ready for her, beside a tall glass of milk.

 

“Yeah, babe?” Jaimie asks.

 

“Since you said help ourselves to what we want...can I have some coffee?” she asks, her eyes sparkling with the joke.

 

“You gotta ask your brother and sister on that one,” Jaimie nods.

 

“Darn.  They’ll say no,” Fran pouts a little, but not for long.  “These are really good apples,” she tells Michael as Jaimie makes her way out to the deck.

 

\--

 

“So, how was school today?  Dominique came?” Michael asks.

 

“Yeah,” Fran answers softly.  She’s not sure if Dominique coming is going to be a good thing for Michael to know or one of those things that’s like,  _ you shouldn’t need her to come, don’t be a baby _ .

 

“Did it help?  Having her there?” Michael asks, like he really cares and wants to know.

 

“And Pearl,” Francesca nods.  “She yelled at Lena two times today.  Because she kept trying to get me to come and talk to her.  And I don’t have to do that if I don’t feel safe. And I didn’t feel safe, so I didn’t do it.”

 

“I’m glad to hear that,” Michael says.

 

“Nothing bad happened after lunch.  Except my last class of the whole day is Language.  And that’s when I always walk by Timothy’s class…” Francesca trails off again, feeling scared, but like on delay.  Like, the words were out of her mouth before she remembered she should be careful talking about him.

 

She bites her lip, nervous.

 

“You can talk to me about Timothy, you know?  I won’t get mad,” Michael reassures. “I know what it’s like to wonder about your birth dad…”

 

“It’s just...I don’t really like seeing him ‘cause he was so mean to me and he, like, ignored me?  But I do like seeing him at the same time because I like just knowing he’s right there and I get to see him every day.  I like seeing our sameness close up, kind of…”

 

“Feelings are complicated about birth parents, that’s for sure,” Michael nods.

 

“Hey, do you think it’s okay if Jesus or Mariana signs my assignment notebook tomorrow?  We’re supposed to get it signed by a parent, and I usually do, but…” Fran hesitates. It makes her think about how getting it signed meant all the comments about how she didn’t write everything down, or her handwriting’s messy.  She always did something wrong.

 

“I think your teachers know your situation, and they’d understand if you had Jesus or Mariana sign it, yeah.”

 

“Are you really good at sixth grade homework?” Fran quizzes.  “Dominique said you were and I’m just wondering, because no offense, but I missed a day yesterday?  So I have  _ a lot _ ,” Fran warns him.

 

“You’ve come to the right place, Francesca.  The exact right place. Just call me Homework Man.”

 

Francesca laughs even though it’s so not funny.  “I’m not calling you that,” she manages.

 

“Alright.  What do we got first?” Michael asks and Fran sighs, opening her assignment notebook to check.

 

\--

 

Dominique sits on the deck with Levi and Mom.  

 

Nobody’s saying anything.  

 

But finally, Levi speaks.  “Sorry...you know...if I was rude before.”

 

“You weren’t rude,” Mom reassures him.  “Boundaries aren’t rude.”

 

“Okay…” Levi manages.  “So...I might have some weird questions…” he says, looking at Dominique.  

 

Dominique nods.  “Oh, Mom loves weird questions.”

 

Levi eyes her, skeptical.  

 

“Seriously, she does.  The weirder, the better.  It’s like she has a little fact-checker thing in her brain, and she can answer anything.”

 

“Not…  Not those kinds of questions,” Levi admits.

 

“Well, I’m open to hearing any questions you have,” Mom tells him.  She doesn’t make a big deal out of the fact that Levi has yet to even look at her and keeps his eyes on Dominique for reassurance.

 

“Okay…  Is it...true?  What Michael said?  Or is it just true for him and not…” Levi stutters.

 

“Is what true?” Dominique asks, patient.

 

“The thing he told Francesca.  About not forcing. Is that true?  Or is it just true for him?” Levi checks in a voice so small, Dominique has to lean in to hear him.

 

Mom’s squinting, as if that’ll make Levi’s voice carry.  

 

“He’s asking about force of habit.” Dominique clarifies.  “Well, kinda.” She takes a calming breath and looks back at Levi.  “It’s true what Dad said. We don’t force each other to do things. Not him.  Not my mom. Not me. We’d never force you to do anything you didn’t want to do.”

 

“What if I was really rude, though?” Levi’s finally looking at Mom, his eyes expectant.  “Wouldn’t it, like, not matter then?”

 

“I don’t force people in my house to do things they don’t wanna do,” Mom explains, patient.  “Even if they’re rude.”

 

“No, but what if they, like, made a huge mess or something?  All over. And it had to be cleaned up. Would you make them?”

 

“I might ask them to help me,” Mom allows, but I wouldn’t force somebody to clean up a major mess, no.  “Especially, because in my experience? Most major messes? Are accidents. They’re not intentional.”

 

Levi nods.

 

Then, to Dominique: “Does your bathroom door lock here?”

 

She nods.

 

“Is it okay if I lock it?  Or is that rude?” Levi checks.  Dominique has a feeling like this question is familiar.  Knows he probably asked it, or something similar, while they were all staying at the cabin together.

 

“Locking a door for privacy is a boundary,” Mom restates, calm.  “Boundaries aren’t rude.”

 

Finally, Levi risks a look at Mom.  “Okay...this question is really gonna sound rude.  But I don’t mean it to be, I swear.”

 

“I won’t get mad,” Mom reassures.

 

“So...are you, like,  _ nice _ ?” Levi asks.

 

If he weren’t so sincere, Dominique would be laughing hard right about now, but she knows Levi.  Knows this is an honest question. And she knows, too, where it’s coming from. At least, she thinks so.

 

“I think so,” Mom smiles a little.  “Dom, what do you think? Wanna back me up here?”

 

“You wanna say anymore?” Dominique checks with Levi.  “Maybe what you mean by  _ nice _ ?”

 

“I...guess I mean the opposite.  Like when people always say about really bad people... _ I never would’ve guessed, they’re so nice? _  Like, are you fake-nice?” Levi tries again.

 

“You wanna know if she’s manipulative or genuine?” Dominique asks.

 

Levi nods.

 

“Genuine,” Mom offers, kind.  Not even a little bit offended.

 

“What about tomorrow night?  Like, when we eat over here? Would that change?”

 

“What are you asking, babe?” Mom wonders, and Dominique’s heart warms hearing Mom use her parents’ favorite term of endearment on her friend.

 

“Would the food...change your genuineness?” Levi wonders, wincing.

 

“No, it would not,” Mom reassures.  “I’m not gonna sneak up and change on you.  I know we just met, and it can be hard to trust new people.  But you trust Dom, right?”

 

Cautiously, Levi nods.

 

“You trust that she wouldn’t put you in an unsafe situation?” Mom asks.

 

“It’s not really that easy.  Sometimes even the safest people...can have...lapses.  Like...errors in judgment,” Levi confesses. “And I’m not saying that as a comment toward you,” he rushes to explain to Dominique.  “Just a comment on my own experience.”

 

“I get it,” Dominique nods.  “But tomorrow? You’re gonna be surrounded by not just me...but all The Avoiders.  We’re all safe people. So even if one of us happened to make an error in judgment?  It would be caught by the rest of us before it could get out of hand.”

 

“Safety in numbers,” Levi nods.

 

“Right,” Dominique confirms. “And, for the record?  My mom is one of those safe people. It might take you a little time to see, and that’s okay.  But I’m just saying… She is.”

 

“That means a lot,” Levi nods.  He risks another look at Mom. “Thank you for being willing to talk to me.  If I have questions tomorrow...or if I’m unsure about something?”

 

“You can always ask,” Mom tells him.

 

“I just...feel like I could get nervous...like...with all the food..and the possibility for messes…”

 

“You don’t have to come,” Dominique reassures.

 

“No, but I want to,” Levi insists.

 

“So...we can make sure you sit between the people who make you feel safest.  Who would that be? Maybe Mariana?” Dominique asks.

 

“Yeah,” Levi nods.  “And maybe your dad?”

 

“We can do that,” Dominique confirms. 

 

“And knowing that you might be more nervous tomorrow, I can be sure to give you space.  I can let other people offer you food or beverages at the table, if that would help.”

 

“It would.  Yeah. Thank you.”  Levi hesitates. “And if...there’s a mess?”

 

“Nobody will be in trouble,” Mom reassures.  “Michael and I will make sure it gets cleaned up.”

 

“That’s it?” Levi asks, surprised.

 

“That’s it.”

 

“Oh.  Okay. Well, then I’ll try to keep it together tomorrow,” he nods, standing, and finally offering his hand for Mom to shake.  “Thank you again, for taking the time to talk to me, Jaimie.”

 

“You’re welcome, Levi,” Mom says, shaking his hand.


	77. Was

Mariana can feel it happening on the way over to Stef and Lena’s.  The retreating behind the mask she’s forced to wear here. The one that feels like a hand over her face, stealing her breath.  But she wears it because she has to. 

 

She’s quiet.  The dread she feels a constant companion.  Mariana knows by now, it will be until this meeting with Lena and Stef is over (while at the same time knowing it’s never really gone…)

 

The familiar fear meets her at the door.  The house swallows her. The door clunks shut behind her.  The smell of here invades her. Everything she has listed in her head to grab flies out of it.  The stress, just of being here, is off the charts.

 

It’ll be a miracle if she can speak at all.

 

Stef sees Jesus and all but runs to hug him, totally ignoring Mariana, and Pearl, who helped Mari up the front steps and has yet to let go of her hand.

 

Dudley, who is the sweetest, most even-tempered dog, steps in front of Jesus, blocking him, and growling low in his throat.  

 

Stef blinks, surprised.  “Oh, Dudley, come on. You know me.”  She’s laughing, but stops as she notices that Jesus isn’t calling Dudley off after all.

 

The look on Jesus’s face is hard to read.  He has a good poker face, too. They’ve needed them.

 

They walk to the kitchen and sit, Mariana sandwiched between Jesus on one side and Pearl on the other.  Moms sit on the ends, as usual.

 

The happy reunion feeling that Mariana’s sure Stef had been hoping for has evaporated.  It’s stiff now, as Lena says:

 

“So glad we get to see you today…” like they’re all strangers.  (Like Jesus is the only one in the room.)

 

“Too bad you couldn’t come yesterday…” Stef ventures, and Mariana can hear the guilt Stef is piling on.

 

Mariana squeezes his hand:   _ Don’t fall for it. _

 

Jesus squeezes back.  Doesn’t respond.

 

“Did you see the nice flowers Talya and Brandon sent us?” Stef gushes gesturing to the huge colorful bouquet that’s smelling up the entire room.

 

“Why?” Mariana bristles.

 

“Seriously, Miss Thang?  You’ve got to start paying attention to what’s going on around you!  It’s Jesus’s anniversary of when he came back to us,” Lena explains.

 

“She knows,” Jesus interjects.  “She means why did they send flowers?  It’s not like I died…” 

 

Lena looks stricken and a little pale.  Anger flashes briefly in Stef’s eyes, but she covers it with a hard smile.  “Well, at least some of our kids still care about our feelings…” she remarks.

 

Pearl looks at Mariana, then at Jesus.  Raises her eyebrows.

 

But Jesus is as silent as Mariana now, and she can see that Stef’s guilting is starting to have an effect on him.  Mariana turns to Pearl. Nods slightly.

 

“Francesca isn’t coming home until further notice,” Pearl tells them, not flinching.  Cleo’s curled on her lap, ignoring Moms.

 

Lena sits back.  Crosses her arms.  “Pearl, I know you and Stef have history, but you have no right to speak to us like this.  Francesca is my daughter. She’s not a bargaining chip.”

 

“No, she isn’t,” Pearl agrees.  

 

“So, I want her back in this house!” Stef demands, loud all of a sudden.

 

“Honey,” Lena cautions.  

 

“We’re not letting you hit Francesca,” Jesus tells them, quiet, but sure.

 

“So, she told you…” Stef remarks, actually laughing a little.

 

“What’s funny?” Pearl asks, arms crossed.

 

“No, no…  I mean, of course she did.  Typical Frankie, right? But come on…  She was out of line. What parent hasn’t hit their kid?”

 

“Have yours?” Pearl pushes back, not flinching.

 

“What?” Lena asks.

 

“Have your parents hit you?” Pearl asks.

 

“Well...no…” Lena admits.  “But it happens. You get over it, Pearl.”

 

“Speaking as someone who  _ has _ been hit by my mother?  You don’t. You don’t get over it.”

 

Mariana looks them in the eye and shakes her head no, too.  Because Fran isn’t the first kid Stef and Lena have hit. She was just the first with a plan to escape if it happened…

 

“So, what do you want us to do?  You won’t let me apologize! You’re at school guarding her like I’m an awful parent!”

 

“Which one of you called CPS?” Stef asks, leveling a gaze at Jesus and Mariana.

 

Mariana’s mouth falls open and both she and Jesus stare at each other and then back at Moms.  

 

“We didn’t,” Jesus says.

 

“Then why were cops in our house yesterday afternoon?” Stef asks, clearly offended.  “Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was?!”

 

“Okay.  We are not doing this,” Pearl insists.  “This is not why we came.”

 

“Well, you’re sure as hell not holding Frankie hostage!” Stef demands.  

 

Mariana has to use every ounce of control she has to just sit here and take the sensory overload stress of Stef yelling like this.  

 

“You have no right!” Lena insists.

 

Mariana stays quiet.  So does Jesus. Pearl falls silent as well, until Stef and Lena just look at each other.  “Well?” Stef demands.

 

“This is not the first time this has happened,” Jesus points out.  “Last spring? The thing at school? And you threatening her with police?” he accuses.

 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Lena exclaims, and her voice is like nails on a chalkboard.  Mariana seriously needs to remove her ears. Or herself. From this room. ASAP.

 

“It has to do with a pattern of behavior.  Which is something you can work on. You’re going to the workshop?” Pearl double checks.

 

“Yes,” Lena answers, tense.

 

“Actually, since you’re doing it already, can you take the girls the 25th - 29th?” Stef wonders, and Mariana feels totally humiliated.  “So we can do this workshop thing Pearl’s recommended and get on with our lives, please?”

 

“I’m glad to have them,” Jesus nods.  “Anytime.”

 

“Clearly…” Stef mutters under her breath.

 

Mariana stands, ready to go up to her room and give it a once-over in case that jogs her stressed-out memory, but Lena calls her back.

 

“I don’t think so, Miss Thang. Sit down.”

 

Mariana’s cheeks are fire.  This sucks.

 

“Are you doing your rehab?  Sure doesn’t seem like it. You’ve hardly said two words.” Lena presses.

 

God.  Mariana so has not missed this.  (Not that she’s had the space to miss it at all anyway, what with Moms calling and texting every minute.)  But it just...literally this is the only thing Moms talk to her about ever. Being around The Avoiders so much, Mariana had kinda gotten used to feeling like a person for a second, instead of just a pile of symptoms Moms got stuck with and have to manage.

 

“And this is not happening either,” Pearl says patiently.  She turns to Mariana. “Did you wanna go grab some other clothes before we go?”

 

Right.  Clothes.  Mariana excuses herself.  Jesus is at her side. But they can hear Stef’s voice clearly at their backs.

 

“What, pray tell, was wrong with that?” she insists, clearly pissed off.

 

“This is not a free-for-all.  You’re not abusing your kids while I’m around.  And giving Mariana the third degree about therapy  _ is _ abusive!” Pearl maintains.

 

Mariana gets to the doorway of her room and just stands there.  She can tell from here that Moms have been in here. Gone through their stuff.  Mariana’s laptop’s open when she always leaves it closed. Fran’s journal is lying awkwardly on their bookcase when Mari knows that she usually keeps it in the smaller shelf right next to her bed.

 

“You want me to grab you stuff?” Jesus asks, and Mariana blinks.  Nods. Jesus is hardly ever in here, but Mariana’s not technically in here either.  And Jesus has Dudley. So, he should be okay. 

 

Steadying herself on the doorframe, she watches Jesus find a bag and start putting clothes and her laptop in it.  Mariana’s attention’s caught by the mailbox that’s just at her eyeline. She opens it and sweeps a hand along inside it.  Feels paper. Takes it out and puts it in her pocket.

 

“Anything else?” Jesus asks.

 

Mariana can still see Fran’s journal from here, and she walks in to take it, and Fran’s Kindle.  She takes the bag from Jesus and goes into the bathroom, making sure to get their hairbrushes, Fran’s lotion, and anything else they might possibly need for a long stay.

 

Finally, they’re finished and back downstairs.

 

“We want you to know that we love you.  We love Frankie, too. Families fight. It...it happens,” Lena tells them, plaintively.

 

“Let’s go,” Pearl whispers, shepherding them along.

 

“Wait.  Where’s our hug?” Lena asks, hurt.

 

“Where was hers?” Mariana blurts, angry.  “Where was Fran’s hug?”

 

“Excuse me?” Stef asks.

 

“Frankie’s not here, otherwise, we’d ask for a hug from her, too,” Lena placates.

 

“Yeah, but do you give her one?” Jesus pushes back, soft.  “Like Mari’s saying...did you give her one on Monday? When you found out she was curious about Timothy?”

 

“You went behind our backs!” Lena insists, zeroing in on Mariana.

 

“Because you wouldn’t tell her anything!” Jesus yells.  “For eleven years? You told her nothing about her bio dad.  With Mike here all the time? With Callie in touch with Robert.  Jude in touch with Donald. At least we know our bio dad’s in jail.  What does Fran know?”

 

“That’s not the point!  The point is, she was disrespectful!  After all we’ve done for you both, and you act like this?” Lena insists, still focused on Mariana.

 

“All you’ve done for them is parent stuff,” Pearl insists.  “Mariana and Francesca don’t owe you anything for raising them.  Or for birthing them. But Francesca does deserve answers about where she comes from.  And I’m glad she has a sister who’s willing to give her that information.”

 

Mariana’s at the front door, pulling it open.  She feels a commotion at her back, hears it, is in it.  She can sense the moment Jesus steps in front of her. 

 

“Don’t touch her,” he growls.  

 

Then, just like that, they’re on the porch.  Looking at the old swing here, Mariana really could just break down and sob.  It used to mean something. This damn house on this damn street with the picture perfect porch swing.  It used to mean safety. It used to mean they’d be okay after all.

 

Now, it just means:  _ Here’s one more place you’ll get hurt _ .

 

Jesus helps Mariana down the front steps, silent.  They walk to the car and don’t speak. They ride in silence.  Mariana’s head aches. Her heart does, too.

 

“I really thought they’d be more receptive…” Pearl muses, after Jesus has been driving around the neighborhood forever and finally parks near Avoidance.  

 

They get out and walk to the table together.  

 

“They think we’re trying to take their kid.  You know, with Ana? As bad as it was there? She still fought the cops when they’d try to take us…”

 

Mariana closes her eyes.  She can’t do this right now.  

 

“Shut up.  Please,” Mariana begs.

 

“Sorry,” Jesus says.  “I won’t talk about it.”

 

“Just...not now…” Mariana pleads, her voice dangerously high and thin.  She’s so close to breaking right now. Just the right nudge with something as small as a feather would do the trick.  

 

“Okay,” Jesus nods.  “We’re okay.”

 

Mariana tries to take deep breaths.  The air is cool and clear and not cloggy and thick like it is around Moms.  It’s still hard to breathe. If Jesus or Pearl even touch her right now, she’ll lose it.  She’ll lose everything.

 

She’s shaking.  Trying to hold herself together.  But it’s not working, because she’s crying anyway.  Because no matter what she does, it’s not enough. Because she can’t change, no matter how hard she works.  No matter how much they want it.

 

So, instead she takes their hate, because she has to.  Absorbing it. Burying it. Breathing it in. So that if they grab her - like Mariana felt they were about to as she opened the door - if they handle her, hit her, degrade her?  

 

It won’t matter.

 

None of it matters.


	78. Unraveling

Once Levi’s done talking to Jaimie, he can’t stop himself from checking in with Mariana.  He sends her a text, that just asks:  _ OK?, _ knowing that if she’s forced to spend time around her moms, even the best case scenario isn’t gonna be good.  

 

It’s been about an hour.  Talking to Jaimie had been okay.  He’s even gotten to hang out a bit with Michael, helping Fran with homework.  But his mind’s always on Mari. 

 

His phone chimes with the sound he’s picked for Avoider texts.  He checks it immediately and his stomach sinks. All he sees is the edge of a picnic table.  Mariana’s shoe. Looks almost like an accidental pic, but Levi knows better. There’s a lot of steps in sending a picture.

 

“Hey.  Can I take your car?” Levi asks Dominique abruptly.

 

“Why?” Fran asks, glancing up.  “What’s wrong?”

 

“I’m gonna go and make sure nothing is,” Levi assures.  “You stay here, okay?” Levi asks.

 

“Everything okay?” Dom asks, quieter.  

 

“Mari texted.  I wanna check it out.  Worried about her. Is it okay if one of your folks gives you a ride back, if I’m not back soon enough?” Levi asks.

 

“We can come, too,” Dominique offers, quietly so that Fran won’t hear.

 

“Yeah, but we don’t want Fran stressed out with grown Avoider stuff, right?  If you wanna come, come. But I wanna get going now, if we can.”

 

“Yeah, I’m coming,” Dom nods, kissing Fran on the head.

 

“No fair.  You’re going?” Fran exclaims, hurt.

 

“Can you hang out here for a bit, please?  Levi and I just have to check in with the other Avoiders.”

 

“But if Moms were mean to them, I wanna come!  I wanna be there, too!” Fran objects.

 

“Babe, I need you to stay here with Mom and Dad right now,” Dominique insists gently.  “This is grown up Avoiders protecting kid Avoiders from too much stress, okay? Please trust me.”

 

“When you’re the only kid, it feels like...bad…” Fran admits sadly.  “Like I’m not really an Avoider…”

 

“You really are an Avoider, Fran,” Dominique tells her.  “Without you, we wouldn’t be The Avoiders. I want you to stay here and be safe, okay?”

 

“That’s my job?” Fran asks, skeptical.  “Just stay here and be safe?”

 

“Hey, that’s a big job,” Levi adds.  “Knowing you’re here and safe will really help.”

 

“Okay, I guess…” Fran sighs.  

 

“Thanks so much, Francesca,” Dominique tells her.  “We won’t forget you, babe. You’re always an Avoider.”

 

“Safe with Avoider Dad and Avoider Mom,” Michael adds and Fran cracks a smile.

 

“I’ll try to get all of my homework done, okay?  So it won’t be extra stress…” Fran says.

 

“You just do your best.  And take breaks if you need to,” Dom tells her.  “Levi and I are gonna go now. And either Mom and Dad will drop you back off at Gateway or one of us will come and pick you up to take you back there.”

 

“Okay…  It’s not like...I don’t have to go back to Moms’ by myself or something, do I?” Fran worries.

 

“No.  That wouldn’t be safe,” Dominique insists.  “And we want you to be safe.”

 

“Okay.  Tell Mariana and Jesus I love them.  And Pearl, too. And I love you and you, Levi, too.” Fran says seriously.

 

Dominique hugs Fran hard and long.  “I love you, too, babe. I know it’s hard when we separate even for a little bit, but you’re still with Avoiders.  You’re still safe.”

 

Levi winces as he sees Fran’s fingers dig into Dom’s shoulders.  “But what if I do something bad and get in trouble?”

 

“What, babe?” Dominique asks.

 

“What if I get in trouble and then there’s none of you Avoiders to help me?” Fran asks.

 

Levi tries to be patient as Dominique explains to Fran again: “My parents are safe adults.  They won’t hurt kids. Even if they make mistakes.”

 

“They won’t,” Levi adds.  “I just talked to Jaimie about that, too, and she told me.  They’re different than the other adults who hurt kids,” Levi assures her, and he’s surprised as Fran grabs him hard around the neck.

 

Levi stands, with Fran still hanging on tight around him.  He’s hanging on tight to her, too. When he eventually sinks back into a squat to settle her in the chair, Fran’s not ready.

 

“I don’t want you to go…  But I want everything to be its safest level,” Fran explains, teary.

 

“Would it feel better if I stayed?” Dominique asks.

 

Fran nods.

 

“Okay.  Then I’ll stay.  Levi can go check things out.” Dominique says, tossing her keys to Levi, who catches them, turns, and starts down the stairs, in one fluid motion.  

 

Halfway down he doubles back so that his head is visible again.  “Thank you for having me. I’m sorry to rush out like this,” he apologizes looking at Jaimie.

 

“Levi, I love how much you care about your people, babe.  You’re not rude. You’re okay,” she reassures.

 

Nodding and swallowing, Levi waves goodbye to Fran and Dom, and then he’s out the door and in Dom’s car, praying he can remember the way to Avoidance.

 

Luckily, the park is within view of Gateway, and Levi knows how to get there, so by association, he knows how to get to Avoidance, too.

 

He parks and sprints across the grass to find Mariana pale and shaking.  Jesus and Pearl just quiet nearby.

 

Levi doesn’t speak, he just sits down on the bench with Mari and waits.  

 

“We can take the dogs for a walk,” Jesus says, and excuses himself.  Pearl nods and follows.

 

And it’s like...the second they’re alone?  Mariana breaks. She’s sobbing. 

 

There’s literally nothing Levi can do, so he just sits with her.  Waits with her. It takes him a minute to recognize that Mari’s crossed the line from upset to traumatized (or maybe she’s always been there?)

 

“Mariana?” Levi asks softly.  “I got your text.”

 

She nods, still destroyed thanks to a short visit home.  

 

“So, I’m here.  I’m not leaving.  Breathe slow?” he asks, and it feels like it takes years for Mariana to get even close to regulated.  But Levi stays, because he promised. Because she clearly needs somebody. Needs him, it seems like.

 

Eventually, Mariana reaches into her pocket and takes out a folded envelope.  Holds it out to him in a shaking hand.

 

“You want me to read this?” he asks.

 

Mariana shrugs.

 

“It’s sealed.  Are you sure?” Levi checks.

 

She nods.

 

“Out loud?” he wonders.

 

Mariana’s staring into the distance, not looking at him.  

 

“Hey, Mari?  You want me to read this out loud?” Levi asks again.

 

She turns toward him.  Blinks, like she needs to sleep for a thousand years.

 

Levi takes a deep breath.  Backs the conversation up. “Did you mean to give me this?”

 

Mariana nods.

 

“Okay.  So, I have it.  Do you wanna know who it’s from?”  Levi keeps trying.

 

“I know,” Mariana offers, her voice soft. Affectless.  But Levi knows just because he doesn’t hear Mariana’s emotion reflected in her voice, it doesn’t mean she’s not feeling it.

 

“You _ know  _ who it’s from,” Levi confirms.

 

“ _ You _ know who it’s from,” Mariana echoes.

 

Levi waits.  He waits until he registers the slight lift of Mariana’s eyebrows.  How she’s pointing at him slightly.

 

“You want  _ me _ to know who it’s from,” Levi realizes.

 

“Mmm,” Mariana nods.  

 

“N. Stratos?” Levi reads, concerned.  “Who is that?”

 

“Rope…  Damn it!” Mariana shakes her head.

 

“We have time.  You want me to know who this is.  I wanna know, too. I’m listening,” Levi tells her, pausing frequently.  “Is this...from a bad person?”

 

Mariana locks her gaze with his.  Nods.

 

“Maybe somebody who hurt you?” Levi guesses, soft.

 

Mariana shrugs.  Nods.

 

“You wanna know what the letter says?” Levi asks, a little breathless.

 

“Fucking Valentine’s Day massacre…” Mariana curses.

 

“It’s about Valentine’s Day?” Levi gathers.

 

Mariana nods, wiping her eyes.

 

“Something bad that happened on Valentine’s Day?” Levi keeps going.

 

Mariana clears her throat.  Nods.

 

“You want me to read this to you?  Out loud?” Levi asks, cringing. “This...has your college address on it.”

 

“In the crash...Lucile,” Mariana tells him.

 

“It was in the car with you when you crashed?” Levi asks, incredulous.  “And someone kept it?”

 

“My box thing inside.  I don’t anymore. But I did now,” Mariana explains.

 

“You...found it inside your house?” Levi asks.

 

“It made me…” Mariana trails off.  

 

“This letter made you,” Levi confirms.  “It has to do with the accident.”

 

“It is.  Why.” Mariana presses.

 

“This letter is  _ why _ you had the accident…” Levi realizes, shocked.  “Mariana, I’m sorry.”

 

“Can’t…” she manages.  “He’s such a fucking fuckboy.”

 

“We don’t...have to read it.  If you don’t want to.” Levi says.

 

“He’s...Peanut Butter Cookie.  Mine,” Mariana manages, not looking at Levi.

 

“He hurt you like she hurt me,” Levi nods, feeling his insides plummet.  “God, Mariana. We don’t have to read this. I can throw it away. If you want.”

 

“No,” Mariana shakes her head.

 

“You want it?”  Levi offers her the envelope.  

 

She takes it and folds it again, pocketing it.  

 

“Just…maybe...read it with somebody?  If you’re gonna read it?” Levi suggests carefully.  “Like us and the thing tomorrow. If you still wanna read that…”

 

“Yeah,” Mari nods.  “Sorry.”

 

“No, no need.  You don’t need to apologize.  But...was it...was it all the letter?  Or was it your moms too?”

 

“Mostly them,” Mariana confirms, sniffling.  

 

“I’m sorry,” Levi says and means it.

 

“You don’t need to apologize,” Mariana echoes, gentle.  

 

“Did they hurt you?” Levi asks, even though he knows the answer.

 

“ _ After all we’ve done for you, and you act like this?  Did you do your therapy? You didn’t, did you?  _  Tried to grab me…  And did the thing like she did at the cabin…” Mariana ventures.

 

“Your moms did a thing like Carla did when you guys visited us?  ...Is that when she went through our stuff?” Levi asks, his eyes shadowed.

 

“My laptop.  Fran’s journal,” Mariana admits.

 

“So, you don’t have to go back...at least not yet, right?” he checks.  

 

“Not until like...the end of...you know...the one Jesus hates?” Mariana asks.

 

“So...maybe not right away?”

 

Mariana nods.

 

“Maybe not until...the end of the month?” Levi tries.  It’s a wild guess, but he’s seen the dates for that workshop that Pearl keeps talking about.  It’s toward the end of October.

 

“Right,” Mariana nods.

 

“Well, hopefully by then they’ll remember how to be human beings and treat you with the kindness you deserve.”

 

Mariana blushes.  Her cheeks get a little pink but her ears get bright red.

 

It takes him a minute to figure out that maybe she can’t speak right now.  “I won’t tell anybody...you know...about the letter.”

 

“How’d it go?  Talking and whatever?” Mariana asks.

 

“Jaimie was cool.  I still don’t wanna be one on one with her.  But Dominique said I wouldn’t have to be. Felt bad leaving Fran behind, though.  She had the same feelings, I think. But Dominique stayed with her, so she’s okay.” Levi reassures when he sees Mari’s worried face.  “Oh, but Francesca wants you to know she loves you.”

 

“I love her, too.  Sorry I’m like...spilling my feelings everywhere,” she manages, laughing mirthlessly.

 

“No.  God, do you remember what I was like when I saw her?” Levi asks rhetorically, thinking about Carla.  “You’re doing way better than I was.”

 

“But they didn’t hurt me,” Mariana objects.

 

“Not like that but…” Levi ventures.  “It’s still a big deal.”

 

“Pearl was good,” Mariana passes along.

 

“She was?  It helped to have her there?” Levi asks, feeling proud.

 

“Yeah, she kept saying, like, stop, and then they were all offended.  But...they said...somebody called CBS on them. I mean...C _ PS _ .”

 

“What’s CPS?” Levi asks, curious.

 

“So, I don’t have to ask if it was you…” Mariana remarks under her breath.  “Like...someone who knew what Lena did to Fran? They called the cops to tell on them…”

 

“Oh.  Damn,” Levi mutters.

 

“Yeah.  Cops came.  It was a whole thing.  They were embarrassed,” Mariana rolls her eyes.

 

“How ‘bout being embarrassed about how they treat you guys?” Levi asks, his eyes flashing.

 

“They just think we’ll get over it,” Mariana sighs.  “Even though their parents didn’t do it to them…”

 

“So, how would they know?” Levi finishes.

 

“Pearl called them out, though,” Mariana reassures.

 

“I love Pearl,” Levi says, his affection for his sister clear in his tone.

 

“Me, too.” Mariana nods.

 

“Thanks.  For being...you know...here,” Mariana glances around.

 

“Yeah, we gotta keep these seats warm.  For tomorrow,” Levi nods.

 

“You’re really going to?” Mariana asks.

 

“You really need me to.  So I’m really going to,” Levi nods.  He hesitates. “I have kind of a strange request.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Can I kiss you on the head?  Not...like...romantically. Just…”

 

“A friend-kiss?” Mariana clarifies.  At Levi’s nod, Mariana also nods her consent.  Then, she gestures to a specific spot on her head.  “You can kiss here.”

 

“Oh.  Okay,” Levi nods.  He scoots a little closer, and kisses the spot Mariana indicated.  Presses his lips there softly. Then, backs off. “Sorry if it’s weird, I just...I’m not great with words...like...when words and emotions exist together?  And I just…”

 

“...wanted to help,” Mariana finishes, knowing.

 

“Yeah.  Did it?” Levi wonders, his eyes curious.

 

Mariana just looks at him, and Levi knows.  

 

He loves that there are moments like these.  Where they hardly need words.


	79. Talk of an End

“Sorry I’m such a disaster,” Jesus apologizes. “Can’t even be there for Mariana.”

 

“Hey, you have reason to be.  You  _ were _ there for her.  And Levi is now. She’s not alone.” Pearl reassures.  

 

“I just…”  he sighs and scrubs a hand down his face.  “If Stef had grabbed Mariana? I probably would have decked her…  Stef, obviously,” he supplies, dark eyes flickering to Pearl.

 

“I mean, I don’t embrace violence...as a rule.  But I definitely understand defending a sibling.  I know I’d ever seen my mother grab Levi that way, I’d have definitely gotten between them at least.  You did what a good sibling does.”

 

“But like...Pearl…” Jesus says.  He’s so tired of this. “That’s how they treat Mariana when we’re _ there _ …”

 

“Terrifying,” Pearl confirms.  “I know.” She shudders a little.  “How are you doing, though? I haven’t forgotten, it’s still the 14th.”

 

“Yeah, neither did B or Talya, didn’t you hear?” Jesus laughs sardonically.  

 

“It’s...beyond strange to me that they sent flowers…” Pearl remarks.  “But it makes complete sense that your moms love them. It reroutes the focus from you to them.”

 

“But shouldn’t they get some of it?” Jesus argues lightly.  “It was terrible for them. It impacted them.”

 

“Same could be said for Mariana on this anniversary.  Or you on hers. But the two of you don’t make your individual traumas about the other…”

 

“No,” Jesus shakes his head.  “But her accident had an affect on me.  And my being There had a big one on her, too.”  He pauses. Scoffs. “Did you hear how they were like...talking about how it’s the day  _ I came back _ to them?  Like I willingly left…”

 

“Centering themselves again, instead of you.  You did come back. You did escape. But with Stef and Lena?  It’s about you returning _ to them _ .”

 

“Lost property…” Jesus comments softly.

 

“Jesus.  No,” Pearl remarks gently.  “Lost human. Lost boy. Lost  _ child _ .”

 

“Okay, okay…” Jesus sighs.  “But that’s how they’re treating this…”

 

“I know.  And I’m sorry,” Pearl apologizes.

 

“I hate that there was so much crap going on that I couldn’t even keep up with it all…  I hate that Mariana might think that I agree with them….” Jesus insists, digging the toe of his shoe into the dirt.

 

“How do you mean?” Pearl wonders.

 

“Like...you heard them ask if I could take  _ the girls _ , right?  Like Mari’s a child?” Jesus passes along.  

 

“Oh.  I didn’t even register that as odd.  Probably because my mother regularly said the same of me…”

 

“Were you 23?” Jesus presses.

 

“25, actually,” Pearl nods sagely.  “It was the year after I moved out on my own.  I came in with Gracie and she said,  _ hey girls _ …  It was so fake,” Pearl bristles.

 

“She basically equated you with a dog,” Jesus says, gaping.

 

“I know.  A great dog, though…” Pearl says, wiping her eyes.  “Sorry. Even though it’s been a while...it’s still…  We had a connection. I know Cleo understands words but...I felt like Gracie and I could actually converse?  I know that probably doesn’t make sense…”

 

“No, it does.  You did have a connection.  And I get that Gracie was one of the best dogs ever, but no matter how good she was?  You don’t deserve to be equated with an animal...anymore than I deserve to be compared to property…”

 

“Fair…” Pearl lets out a shaky breath.  “Listen...I’m not really sure how to go about asking this...and I don’t want to offend you...but I am concerned…”

 

“About?” Jesus checks.

 

“About last night…” Pearl ventures.

 

“What happened last…  Oh. Yeah,” Jesus nods to himself.  “I lost my shit.”

 

“Yeah.  So, I guess...how are you doing with that?  Do you feel more stable?” Pearl wonders.

 

“I mean...I guess I am?  And on the other hand...there’s kinda been a lot going on so I haven’t had time to really think about what made me lose it anyway…” Jesus admits.

 

“Do you want to?  Talk about it? Or would it be too stressful?” Pearl asks.  

 

“Not sure.  Basically...it’s just...the idea of losing you guys is...I can’t really deal with that?  Because I just remember how isolated I was Then and how hard it was to live like that. I know I made it through that.  But I don’t want to,” Jesus comments.

 

“Are you afraid of that often?  Being left?” Pearl wonders.

 

“I mean, I know I don’t usually mention my early life?  Like,  _ before  _ Before?  But being left is kinda one of our first memories ever.  And if your mom can’t be bothered to be there for you? Like...how can you even...I don’t know…”

 

“Like, this is before Stef and Lena, even…” Pearl observes.

 

“We were...maybe a year old?” Jesus squints.  “And usually when I say that I get a whole bunch of, like,  _ ‘Nobody can remember back that far…’ _  And  _ ‘I know you don’t remember your past but it’s not okay to lie…’” _

 

“Stef and Lena again?” Pearl guesses.

 

Jesus nods.  “So, it didn’t take long for me to just stop talking about it altogether.  But we still think about it.”

 

“You said Mariana remembers, too?” Pearl asks, devastated for them.

 

“When you’re on your own for 24 hours, trapped in a crib?  No food, nobody to see to your basic needs? You remember that.  You remember the fear.” Jesus remarks, his eyes dark.

 

“So, this…  The fear of losing us…  It goes deep,” Pearl observes.

 

“The deepest,” Jesus confirms.  “It’s why...like...I generally have a handle on the more major trauma symptoms.  I haven’t relapsed in a while. But that… That...just made me have to shut down, I guess.”

 

“We’re not going to leave you,” Pearl tells him plainly.  Gently. “We love you guys. All of you. We’re family.”

 

“But our family left us,” Jesus points out.

 

“I know,” Pearl nods, sympathetic.  There’s a pause. “I know it’s not the same thing at all...and I don’t speak about it often...because Levi has such fond memories of our dad?  But he did leave me, too…”

 

“What do you think happened there?” Jesus asks.  “I mean, I know your grandma on your mom’s side knows some stuff.  Did she ever tell you anything about why he left?”

 

“I could never ask…” Pearl admits.  “I mean, knowing my mother said he died?”

 

“Right,” Jesus nods.  “That’s so messed up…”

 

“And, you know, I’ve pored over every single one of those letters and cards he sent me?  And there’s nothing about it.”

 

“Maybe Levi’s mom might know?” Jesus asks.

 

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t want to involve Nia.  Or go behind Levi’s back. We’re in a good place right now, trust wise.  I don’t wanna shake that.”

 

“Why would you have to go behind his back?  Why couldn’t you talk to him about it? Let him know it’s something you wanna look into?” Jesus asks.

 

“And ruin his perfect image of our dad?  They were best friends, Jesus. And I know that, if not for Levi wanting to hang onto a little part of Dad, he never would have sought me out.  We wouldn’t have found each other in the first place.”

 

“But it’s like you always tell Fran...you deserve answers about your past.”

 

“I love my brother more than I need those answers, Jesus.  I’m not rocking the boat here,” Pearl maintains, a little harsher than she intends.  She softens. “So, I guess you’re not the only one with a deep-seated fear of abandonment…”

 

“Hey...you’ve got us…” Jesus tells her.  “We’re not going anywhere.”

 

“Yeah, well…  When your dad drops you off to play at a friend’s house and just...never comes back?  And you’re four? Your idea of permanence gets all wacky…” 

 

“That’s how old we were, too…” Jesus shares.  “When we moved for the first time.”

 

“She left you alone for a full day when you were babies and you had to stay with her until you were four?” Pearl asks, incredulous.

 

Jesus shrugs.  “I feel like she had some stability somewhere.  At some points. Because she was still a minor. Her parents had to be there somewhere, right?”

 

“I guess,” Pearl shrugs.  “I mean, I would hope so.”

 

“Me, too.” Jesus nods.

 

“So...this might be a strange question...but...is there anything I can do if you start feeling like you’re gonna lose us?  Anything you need to hear?” Pearl asks.

 

“I think...I just need to calm down.  Sit, breathe, slow down. Try to focus on what’s actually happening,” Jesus says.  “It’s been a while, you know, since we’ve been friends. Back when we were just Trauma Club?  But it’s still kinda weird to me that you wanna know this stuff.”

 

“That I want to know how I can help?” Pearl asks.

 

“Yeah, basically,” Jesus nods.  “I hope Mari’s okay. You think we should head back?”

 

“I think whether we head back now or later, Mari and Levi are fine.  He’s seen her through hard times before.”

 

“Has he?” Jesus wonders.

 

Pearl nods.  “I don’t know a lot about it, but I know enough to feel confident that they’re in good hands with each other.  I just...do not want them dating. Not until he’s older.”

 

“Wait.  Who’s talking about them dating?  I mean, other than Fran. Is Levi?” Jesus wonders.

 

“No.  He insists there’s nothing going on there.  But now he’s eighteen. So, I have even less say over his decisions.”

 

“If I tried to have a say over Mariana’s decisions, she’d deck me…” Jesus remarks.

 

“Yeah?  Wait. Am I crossing a line here?” Pearl asks.

 

“Just saying that you don’t really ever have a say over Levi’s decisions.  The most you can do is be a sounding board. A safe person he can go to for feedback.  If he wants advice, you can give it. But like...I don’t know. I guess my view of people having a say over my life is pretty skewed.”

 

“Can I ask you something?” Pearl wonders.

 

“Sure,” Jesus nods, the most at ease he’s been in days.  He loves this time with Pearl, just walking the dogs. Loves that it’s a thing that they do together.  That their friendship is still around and strong, after all this time.

 

“Are you still feeling indebted to Stef?” Pearl asks.

 

“I probably am always gonna feel indebted to Stef, honestly…” Jesus admits.  “They hit all the right buttons, too. Telling Mari she’s acting ungrateful after all they did for us.  ...We never lose sight of that, you know? It’s always there, in the back of our minds. Where we could be, if they didn’t take us in?”

 

“Sounds exhausting,” Pearl observes.

 

“And I’m honestly freaked out that somebody called CPS on them…  I mean, I know nothing would happen… Stef’s got friends there, but, like…if Fran got taken away, then  _ we _ wouldn’t see her, either.  Not to mention how much more pissed Stef and Lena would be at Mariana if she was alone there…”

 

“Okay.  But let’s not borrow trouble, Jesus.  Yes, someone did call CPS--”

 

“Do you think Francesca told someone at school?  Crap. Do you think she told  _ Timothy _ ?”

 

Dudley’s alerted by the spike in Jesus’s anxiety and is whining and nudging him.

 

Before Jesus knows what’s happening, Pearl has swung around so she’s in front of him and stopped walking.  “Slow. Down,” she instructs, deliberately. “Francesca is safe. She’s not being taken away. You can still see her.  Mariana’s safe with Levi. She’s not being hurt.”

 

“Yeah, right now!” Jesus exclaims, eyes bright.

 

“Jesus,” Pearl says, a note of warning in her tone.  “Breathe.”

 

He takes a breath through his nose, and lets it out through his mouth.  She waits until he’s done this a few times. Until he’s clearer.

 

“Now.  You wanna tell me something?” Pearl asks gently, losing the controlled edge to her voice.

 

“I just...know what it’s like…” Jesus admits, studying Pearl seriously.

 

“You know what  _ what _ is like?” Pearl probes softly.

 

“Getting taken.  The cops coming. The only thing that helped even a little was having Mariana there…  But Fran… She doesn’t even have that.” Jesus worries.

 

“You’re afraid of Francesca going through what you and Mariana did as kids?  But alone?” Pearl checks.

 

Jesus nods.

 

“That’s really heavy.  And so valid,” Pearl nods.

 

“It is?” he asks.

 

“It is.  It makes so much sense.  And I hear you. I just don’t want you panicking again so soon, if I can help.  I understand that your feelings are real, Jesus. But they’re not true.”

 

He squints at her.

 

“Francesca didn’t get taken away.  She’s safe. Mariana’s safe,” Pearl reminds him.  “I get that hearing that someone called to report your moms scared you.  Maybe it even nudged your trauma…”

 

Jesus nods, swallowing.

 

“That makes sense.  But Francesca is safe.  She’s at Dominique’s parents house, and they’re pretty amazing as far as parents go, right?  I can’t imagine a safer place for her to be, if she can’t be with you and Mariana for the moment, can you?”

 

“No,” Jesus admits.  “Thanks for talking me down.”

 

“Hey, it’s what we do,” Pearl says, falling back into step beside Jesus.

 

They keep walking.


	80. Perfect

Francesca feels kinda bad that she wanted Dominique to stay here with her, because she’s actually, for real, fine now.  She feels totally calm and she finished her homework and stuff, even.

 

Now, they’re all sitting on the deck together with each other, just talking.  It’s like, fake-Avoidance. But not bad.

 

“Remember when I said I wish I was in your family?” Fran remembers.

 

“We do remember that,” Michael says.

 

“Well, this is kinda like that, right?  Like we’re all sitting outside together like a family?” Fran asks.

 

“What do you think, Fran?” Dominique asks, like she really does want to know.

 

“That’s how it feels to me.  I just wanna know if I feel like a part of you,” Fran wonders.

 

“You do feel like a part of us, definitely,” Dominique nods.

 

“So...do you guys remember back when Brandon was really mean to me?” Francesca asks.  Michael and Jaimie look at each other and then at her.

 

“When was this?” Dominique asks.

 

“The time with those pictures of Jesus and Mariana and then Brandon talked to the news about me.”

 

“I do remember that,” Dominique nods.  She’s not smiling.

 

“Do you?” Fran turns to Michael and Jaimie.

 

“I don’t, no.  Do you wanna share what happened?” Jaimie asks.

 

“I’ll just show you,” Fran says and easily finds the article on her phone.  She took a screencap of everything Brandon said. She finds the picture and hands her phone over to let them see.

 

“See?” Fran says after waiting a long time for them to read.

 

“We do see,” Michael nods.

 

“So, do you think I should be happy about that?” Fran presses.

 

“Sounds like your brother was saying you should be grateful your parents love you...which isn’t the case at all.  Kids don’t owe their parents anything for loving them. That’s free,” Jaimie explains.

 

“But did you see?” Fran asks, gesturing for her phone again and highlighting one spot she wants them to notice.  “Right there,” she hands the phone back to Michael, who’s closer. “He said I’m special needs.”

 

“Sounds like you don’t like that,” Michael comments.

 

“I  _ don’t _ like that…” Fran says.  “He told everybody in the world who reads that article and I didn’t say he could.  Plus, saying I’m special needs is like…” Fran thinks. “Saying I’m a baby or different or wrong.  Not even a person.”

 

“What made you think of that?” Dominique asks.

 

“Sitting here with you guys,” Fran admits.  “Because when I sat at my table with Mariana and Jesus and Stef and Lena?  Stef and Lena were like, “ _ Oh, B says he loves you, that’s good.  Why would you feel bad about it?” _

 

“Maybe ‘cause he didn’t even ask you before he talked to the news about you?” Dominique remarks and Francesca loves her even more than usual.

 

“Because I was like...thinking...if I was in your family, none of you guys would do that to me.  Do a thing so it’s like nobody can say you did anything wrong ever, because you have a kid like me,” Fran tries to explain.

 

“It can be hard to be different,” Dominique allows.  “Especially if your family isn’t safe and won’t see the harm in what they’re doing.”

 

“Brandon just thinks he’s right all the time.  I yelled at him in a text message, and he still thinks he is.  It makes me feel...like a tiny little speck.”

 

“I understand,” Dominique nods.

 

“Did that ever happen to you?” Fran wonders.

 

“My parents turned down the requests for interviews and media...but still...the way people treat me sometimes...it does make me feel small, too.”

 

“But we treat each other in a way that makes us feel big, right?” Fran asks.

 

“Definitely.  Because you’re not just a pile of special needs, you’re Francesca and you’re a great friend and speller and sister.  All of that. Your CP is part of that.”

 

“I just feel like it’s...messing up everything,” Fran admits.  “If I didn’t have CP, Timothy would have probably wanted me. Then I could’ve probably not ever gotten in trouble by Moms for finding him.”

 

“You think so?” Michael asks.

 

“Well, yeah....” Fran nods.  “Of course. I know you guys love me, but most people want normal babies…  My moms did.”

 

“You ever get to talk to anybody about this?” Jaimie wonders.

 

“Just you guys now…” Fran admits.  “And I know CP is good because I met you guys, and I love you guys and all The Avoiders, but I also…” Fran’s voice does a weird catch.  “I love being safe...and it’s not my fault I’m like this…”

 

Dominique gets up and comes to share Fran’s chair with her.  Wraps her arms around her. “I know what it’s like to wish the bad stuff never happened,” she whispers.  “I wish that, too.”

 

“You do?” Fran asks.

 

“I really do.  You deserve to feel safe.  You deserve to have parents who love you and accept you for all of who you are.  You shouldn’t have to reject a part of yourself.”

 

“But everybody else thinks it’s better that way.  And I can’t run like the other kids, just like they said.  I get picked last in gym. And people in my own family are mean to me and then I tell and people just go,  _ Oh.  Just don’t worry about it.  Just let it roll off your back.   _ Like it’s nothing!  But then you know what it feels like?  Like  _ I’m _ nothing…” Fran draws a shaky breath.

 

Dominique just hugs her.  

 

Finally, Jaimie says, “You’re doing really great talking about all this, Francesca.”

 

“Yeah.  We’re proud of you,” Michael says.

 

She just leans against Dominique for a while and then finally asks, not even sitting up, “Is it bad to wish for a different life?”

 

“I think it’s the sign of a really curious person, and a person who’s known a lot of pain, to wonder what life could be like if it was different.  And I don’t hear you wishing for a different life, as much as I hear you wishing for love and acceptance in the life you have already,” Michael observes.

 

“Yeah, because I know this  _ is _ just my life.  I can’t have another one.  So, like, why can’t they just love me how I came?”  Fran pauses. “Sorry, this is probably really wrong to be talking like this about them…”

 

“No, I think it’s a valid question,” Jaimie nods.  “Do you love Stef and Lena?”

 

Fran nods, and it is true, even though she feels afraid.

 

“And you want them to love you back the same way, right?” Jaimie says.

 

“Yes, and it’s like, is that so hard?” Fran asks.

 

“It’s not,” Dominique reassures.  “It’s not hard to love you, babe.”

 

“When Brandon wrote that about me?  It was like he was saying that. That I’m hard to love,” Fran shares.  “And it’s kind of true, isn’t it?”

 

“It’s true that lots of people in the world don’t view people with disabilities in a respectful way,” Dominique tells her.  “That is not your fault. That means those people need to educate themselves.”

 

“That’s why you came to school with me.  But that ended up being a really bad day, too, because I got in trouble and it wasn’t my fault again.  Like, I’m not perfect. I do bad things sometimes, on purpose. But that  _ was _ an accident, on the playground.  And it turned into a whole thing.”

 

“I remember,” Dominique says.

 

“I was defending you,” Fran says quietly.

 

“What?” Dominique asks, surprised.

 

“On the playground that one day?  Michael 2,” - Fran sends an apologetic look Michael’s way - “he was saying mean things about you, and I said a mean thing back and had to go stand by the wall.  And then I fell and grabbed for him by accident…”

 

“That sounds like a lot of hard things to deal with,” Dominique says.  “I appreciate you defending me. I do. But I also want you to know that I’m a grown up.  And I know that kids can be cruel.”

 

“So, I shouldn’t have said it?” Fran asks and her thoughts start swirling around everywhere.  Why can’t she do one thing right?

 

“As a kid, it’s not your job to defend adults.  But it speaks really well of the kind of person you are.  I’m proud of you for speaking up. I really wish you hadn’t gotten in so much trouble for it.  But I am proud of you.”

 

“So, I did the right thing, even though bad stuff happened later?” Fran checks.

 

“Yes,” Dominique nods.  “Hey, what do you say, we go pick out a quick Netflix show to watch, for self-care.  Something light. Fun.”

 

“Will you come, too?” Fran wonders.  “I don’t wanna watch alone.”

 

“Sure,” Dominique agrees, and they’re most of the way through the dog episode of  _ If I Were an Animal  _ when Francesca hears the front door and scrambles to her feet, almost falling on her face on the carpet.

 

“Jesus and Mariana are back!” she exclaims.  

 

It feels like it takes a thousand years for them to get up the steps and Fran runs into Jesus’s arms.  “Hi! I haven’t gotten to see you guys in forever!”

 

“Hey buddy, I missed you,” Jesus says, hugging her tight.  

 

“Is it the day you met me yet?” Fran checks.

 

“Almost,” Jesus nods.  “Tomorrow.”

 

“Oh.  Darn,” Francesca feels a little disappointed.  

 

Then, she sees Mariana’s face.  It’s not happy. It makes Fran remember that Jesus and Mariana and Pearl were at Moms’ house together.

 

She backs out of the hug with Jesus and offers a hand to Mari.  They walk to the dining room table. “Were they mean?” Francesca asks, serious.

 

Mariana nods.

 

“I was just talking about how Brandon was mean to me, and Moms didn’t understand at all,” Fran passes along.  “Was it like that?”

 

“Not really,” Mari answers, like she’s really tired.  Maybe Fran shouldn’t ask questions anymore.

 

But she stays close, because it’s what she and Mariana do for each other, whenever Moms treat them like tiny little specks.

 

Fran hangs out with Mariana even when Jesus, Pearl, Levi and Dominique go to another room to talk to each other.  Fran sits and sings to herself, pieces of songs she’s learning in choir, Disney songs, just whatever pops into her head.  Mari usually likes it when she sings.

 

\--

 

“What happened?” Dominique asks, on the deck again, but this time without Mom and Dad.

 

“It was pretty grim,” Pearl passes along.  

 

“What do you guys need?” Dominique asks.  

 

“Just calm, I think, for me.  Probably the same for Mari. But space to talk, too.  And support for that, I’d guess, for Mari. If she wants to.”

 

“Sorry I wasn’t there,” Dominique apologizes.  “I wanted to come.”

 

“It means a lot that you were here with Fran.  Especially if she was all wound up. She better now?” Jesus asks.

 

“She’s got a ton on her mind,” Dominique shares, keeping it vague.  “Shared beautifully with me and Mom and Dad. But I feel like she’ll need a lot of support, too.”

 

“And how are you?” Jesus asks.

 

Dominique blinks.  “What?”

 

“What do you need from us?” Jesus raises his eyebrows, his question gentle. 

 

“I guess...Fran was talking about some stuff..and it.  Kinda reminded me of the first time we met...because she kinda triggered me?”

 

“Oh, wow,” Levi breathes.

 

“Kinda like...I guess you’ve mentioned Jude...used to trigger you..to remember…”

 

“Yeah,” Jesus nods.

 

“It’s kinda like that.  Just really aware of who’s missing…” Dominique admits.

 

Pearl steps over to hug her, and Dominique’s glad Levi and Jesus don’t try to join.

 

“What do you need from us?” Levi asks, probably aware that Dominique unintentionally avoided Jesus’s question.

 

“Just be here,” Dominique nods, stepping back from Pearl’s hug.  “That would help. And it...means a lot...that you asked, Jesus.”

 

“Yeah.  Like I said.  I’m trying to be better about that,” Jesus admits, tucking his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

 

“Well, what do you say?  Should we head home?” Pearl wonders.

 

“Not real home?” Levi checks, concerned.

 

“No.  California-home,” Pearl amends with a smile.

 

“Good, ‘cause I was gonna say...we still have a long time here.  And Mari and I have a thing we need to do tomorrow. So we need Avoidance.”

 

“Oh.  Okay,” Jesus nods.  “Need anything else, though, you can just let us know.”

 

Levi nods.  “Cool. I’m gonna head inside and see if Mari and Fran are ready to go.”

 

“I’ll go...help him…” Pearl adds awkwardly, walking in behind Levi.

 

In the silence, Jesus just stands there with Dudley at his side.  Finally he says, “Sorry...you’re missing your person. Are you able to talk about them with anybody?”

 

“Fran knows.  Just a piece. And my parents know.  But I don’t really talk about her… It’s too hard…”  Dominique swallows.

 

It had been hard not to imagine, though, with Fran and her parents all sitting around the table, and Francesca talking about family, and different lives and what could be…  It was hard not to imagine Taylor there, a year younger than Fran.

 

To wonder, how all their lives might be different.  Would Dominique and Taylor have been raised as siblings, with her parents adopting Taylor?  Would Taylor have ever known Dominique was her mom? 

 

The questions make her dizzy.  And as much as she loves Francesca and the chance to experience a little bit of that bond with her, it’s not the same.  Francesca isn’t Taylor.

 

It’s an ache Dominique knows she’ll always feel.


	81. Broken Glass

 

Pearl’s been doing some research for dinner options, since she knows food is important to Jesus (and Mariana, too, given their history…)  She settles on a local Mediterranean restaurant that offers carryout and vegan options.

 

She runs it by everyone, and it’s mostly a grand slam, except Fran, who makes a face.  Jesus offers to make her a peanut butter sandwich. Pearl knows Fran’s a pretty safe eater, but also that it’s important they make sure Jesus and Mariana have things the way they need them: trauma-wise and dietary-wise.

 

Levi sees her grab her keys, and he’s at her side in a minute.  “Hey. Can I come with you?”

 

“Of course.  I’ll need someone to help me carry everything.”

 

They’re in the car - Levi seated in the back and quiet - when Pearl checks in.

 

“What’s up?” she asks,  seeing Levi, quiet, in the rearview mirror.  

 

“Nothing….just...I kinda wanted to hang out with you,” he says, hurt. 

 

“I want to hang out with you, too,” Pearl insists.  “Why do you look like that?”

 

“Because you didn’t act like you wanted me to come because you wanted to hang out.  It was more like...you wanted me here for manual labor…”

 

Pearl blinks.  “Oh. Okay. I’m hearing back what I said in my mind and it sounds just that terrible.  I’m sorry, Levi. I am grateful for your help, but I want to talk to you, too.”

 

“You do?” Levi asks.  “‘Cause I just kinda feel like it’s been a while, you know, since I got to talk to my sister.  I mean, I’m glad we’re here for Mariana and Jesus, but…”

 

“I know what you mean,” Pearl nods. “Are you doing okay?”

 

Levi shrugs.  “I mean...Jaimie’s cool but she’s still a mom.  I had to move away from my own mom...you know? So it’s like...no matter how nice they seem…”

 

Pearl nods.  “I understand.”

 

“And then, like, Mariana was sharing some stuff about what her moms said...and it just...made me feel horrible for her.  I wish we could help them,” Levi admits. “I mean, somehow, like, do more than we are…”

 

“You said you had a thing to do with Mariana tomorrow at Avoidance?” Pearl recalls.

 

“Yeah,” Levi nods.

 

“What kind of thing?” Pearl asks, hoping she sounds merely curious.

 

“It’s private.  Just a thing she needs support for,” Levi admits.

 

“Okay.  This isn’t too much for you, is it?” Pearl asks.

 

“What?”

 

“Being here for them?” she says carefully.

 

“I love my friends.  I wanna be here for them.  I wanna come through for them every bit as much as they came through for us when we needed them,” Levi says, certain.

 

“That’s really admirable.  I just wanna be sure you’re taking care of yourself, too,” Pearl nods.

 

“The last thing Mariana needs is another person saying she’s too much,” Levi comments, quiet.

 

“I agree.”  Pearl nods.

 

They arrive at the restaurant and after a bit of a wait, they’re set with their bags of carryout.   Then back in the car.

 

“I don’t know how you could just go there and talk to their parents like that…” Levi admits.

 

“Like what?” Pearl asks.

 

“Like...stay that calm?  From what Mari said...they really did...remind me of Carla… I hope that’s okay to say…” Levi glances at Pearl, wary.

 

“It is,” Pearl nods.  “They do remind me of her, too.  It might be one of the reasons I’m a bit hardened to their tactics.  That they don’t sway me. Because I’m used to it.”

 

Pearl concentrates on driving, her recent conversation with Jesus there at the back of her mind.  She could bring up her questions about Dad and just see...but the risk would be too great. Pearl swallows her curiosity.  What is it Dominique always says,  _ No one ever died from being curious? _

 

“Why do you look like that?” Levi asks, echoing Pearl’s earlier question.  

 

“No reason...it’s just...are you and Mariana just friends?” Pearl wonders.

 

“No…” Levi moans, covering his face.

 

“No, you’re not just friends?” Pearl asks, mortified.

 

“Stop, Pearl!” Levi exclaims.  “Stop asking me about that!”

 

“Why are you so defensive about it?” Pearl asks, her own irritation flaring.

 

“Pearl, seriously, I’m about to jump out of this car if you don’t stop asking me!” Levi yells back.

 

Though everything in Pearl wants to yell back, Pearl forces herself to be quiet for a full sixty seconds.  Then she says, “I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight with you.”

 

“You always ask me about if I’m dating her like it would be the worst idea ever.  But I  _ like _ her, Pearl.  I know we’re different.  I know she’s older. I’m not about to rush into anything anytime soon...but the way you are about Mariana...it makes me feel like you don’t respect either of us…” Levi picks at a thread on his pants.  “Also, I said stop and you didn’t.”

 

Pearl parks in front of Gateway.  “I wanna keep talking. Can we run this up to them and then take ours...out back?  Patio dinner?” she asks.

 

Levi nods.

 

They make quick work of dropping off the food upstairs and taking servings for themselves “to go.”  Before long, they’re sitting outside. It’s cool, but not bad.

 

It takes Pearl some time (and several bites of falafel) to address what Levi’s said.  When she speaks, her voice is pinched, and Cleo’s licking her.

 

“I’m sorry…” Pearl manages, taking a deep breath.  The last thing she wants is for Levi to feel like he shouldn’t have asserted himself and his boundaries.

 

“Are you okay?” Levi asks, immediately tuned into Pearl’s emotions.

 

“I am.  I’m okay.  The tears aren’t about you.  I’m really glad you told me all that.  And the last thing I want is for you to feel like I don’t respect you and Mariana.  I absolutely do. I just… I worry. I want to protect you from everything. Broken hearts included.”

 

“Why do you assume that?” Levi asks, his expression guarded.

 

“Because this thing with Mariana…  It’s looking like it could be your first serious relationship.  And...most people don’t get it right their first time.” Pearl explains.

 

“What do you mean?” Levi asks, confused and maybe slightly offended.  “I’m some dumb kid?”

 

“No,” Pearl insists.  “Honestly, I’m thinking of Dad...and Carla…  It took him some time to get it right with your mom.  He had to be, like, 50 years old when they married, right?”

 

“I guess,” Levi nods.  “But just because it took Dad 50 years doesn’t mean it’s gonna take me the same.  Maybe you,” Levi teases, half-smiling.

 

“Oh, seriously.  You’re going there?” Pearl laughs.  “Pick on your hermit-sister about my lack of romantic prospects…”

 

“It’s not like that…” Levi laughs.

 

“I am sorry.  For not stopping when you said stop.  I should have,” Pearl says, looking Levi in the eyes.

 

“Why didn’t you?” Levi asks.

 

“I guess I was a bit distracted…” Pearl admits.  “Thinking about the past. About Dad. I have some questions about him and no real answers.”

 

“Ask me,” Levi insists.  “Seriously, I know everything about him.  Or, almost everything.”

 

“This...might not be something you want to talk about…” Pearl cautions.

 

“Well, it’s not really your call,” Levi tells her, matter of fact.  “And I can’t tell you honestly ‘til I know what it is.”

 

“I just...don’t want to ruin your perfect image of him…” Pearl hesitates.

 

“Pearl...I know.  Okay? You forget that he totally missed...what happened to me.  I know he wasn’t perfect,” Levi tells her.

 

“Okay…  Well, do you happen to know anything about why he left me?” Pearl asks softly, letting rare vulnerability soften her features.  “Leaving Carla...I understand that. I don’t even fault him for it. But why…”

 

“Why leave you?” Levi asks.

 

“Right,” Pearl nods.

 

“The only thing he ever said was that he talked to lawyers and stuff.  Looked into divorcing her, but that’s a long process and back then they--”

 

“--awarded custody to the mother, almost exclusively,” Pearl finishes.  “I know that part.”

 

“Oh,” Levi deflates a little.  “Sorry, I thought I’d have new information. And I’m sorry he left you,” he says sincerely.  “I wish he’d taken you with him. He’d talk about you all the time but when I asked where you were, he just said you had to stay with your mom…and that he thought divorcing her would give him a leg to stand on in court. Allow him to get you out of there.  But I guess it...didn’t happen that way.”

 

“It’s okay,” Pearl nods.  “It just...seems unlike him.  If she kicked him out or something, I feel like I’d know?  But it was never the feeling I got…”

 

“Do you remember it?” Levi wonders.

 

“I do,” Pearl nods.  “Because I was used to seeing him every morning but that morning - the morning after he left - I didn’t see him.  It was later she told me he died… She was so angry, I didn’t ask anymore questions,” Pearl admits.

 

Levi doesn’t rush to fill the silence.  Dad always liked a good silence, too, to do his thinking in.

 

“I was worried,” Pearl confesses.  “That maybe if I pushed the issue too hard you might leave, too…”

 

Levi looks shocked.  

 

“Like, if I ruined your good opinion of him...you might not want to hang around.  I know you sought me out in the first place for a connection to him.” Pearl shares.

 

“I did.  So, I’d never wanna lose that,” Levi tells her sincerely.

 

Pearl laughs a little, ruefully.  “Now I think I’m beginning to feel what you felt when I commented about you carrying the bags…”

 

“Why?” Levi asks, confused.  “What did I say?”

 

“That you wouldn’t leave so you wouldn’t lose your connection to Dad.  ...But what about our connection, Levi? As siblings? Does  _ that  _ matter?” Pearl asks.

 

“Definitely,” Levi nods.  “I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like Dad’s the only reason I stuck around.  He’s not. He’s why I found you...but  _ you’re _ why I stayed.”

 

“If I disappoint you, will you leave?” Pearl asks carefully.

 

“I mean, I don’t imagine us living together in a cabin forever, because that would be a little weird eventually,” Levi admits.  “But you’d have to do a lot more than disappoint me for me to leave… Do I have to leave if I disappoint you?” he asks.

 

“No.  I know you’re going to disappoint me,” Pearl tells him honestly.

 

“Thanks a lot,” Levi laughs.

 

“No!” Pearl laughs too, “I mean, you’re a human being, and a young one, at that.  You’re going to make mistakes. I’m not going to like every single decision you make.  But I’m always going to love you.”

 

“Any decisions you haven’t liked so far, or is it strictly the idea of me dating?” Levi presses.

 

“Mostly that,” Pearl admits.

 

“And that’s ‘cause you don’t want me to get hurt?  Not because you have bad feelings toward Mariana or my decision-making?” Levi checks.

 

“Exactly.  You’re a good kid, Levi.  Don’t worry so much,” Pearl reassures.  “Do you think we can live close? Like after the cabin?  We really could look into living in this building. You know...eventually?  I’m kinda digging California.” Pearl admits.

 

“Yeah, I wanna live here at the same time as you but don’t say you’re digging California.” Levi slaps a hand to his forehead, embarrassed.

 

“Why?” Pearl asks.  “Am I not being cool?  You have to tell me these things, Levi,” she teases.

 

“Literally no one says that.  And I kinda like that you’re not cool…” he admits.

 

“Why?” Pearl asks, definitely perplexed now.

 

“Because you’re you.  You don’t really care what people think and that sets you apart.”

 

_ From my mother _ , Pearl thinks, before she can censor the thought.  Her mother has always been overly concerned about how people perceive her.

 

But to Levi she says, “Thanks.  You want to head back up and catch up with everyone else?”

 

“Sure.  I just...I don’t get your concern over my broken heart when you talk about me and Mariana.  All I get is your judgment and how awful it would be if we were together. So, can you not harp on my not-dating life?” Levi asks.

 

Pearl winces.  “Sorry. Yes, I’ll stop with the harping.”

 

“I don’t mind when you ask how she is.  How I am,” Levi offers as they take the elevator up.

 

“Noted,” Pearl nods.  “I liked having dinner with you,” she tells him and means it genuinely.

 

“I like spending time with you,” he allows.  “Not a huge fan of a whole meal without meat…” 

 

“Ah, well I’m sure Jesus has some meat somewhere.” Pearl reassures.  

 

“How do you think they’re doing in there?” Levi asks.

 

“I think we’ll find out soon enough,” Pearl tells him and knocks.

 


	82. Hearts

Francesca’s never going to be a vegantarian.  The food is not good. Well, not true. The bread is good.  The sauces are weird and texturey. She’s glad for Jesus making her a smooth peanut butter sandwich on plain bread with some baby carrots and puffy Cheetos.

 

“This is the orangest meal I ever ate,” she tells them, surveying her empty plate.

 

Dominique smiles a little.  But Jesus doesn’t notice any of what she says.  He’s looking at Mariana.

 

Pearl and Levi knock just at that moment to come back in and Fran gets the door with Jesus’s permission.

 

“Did you guys have a good falafel dinner?” she asks them, because even though she hates the dips, the word falafel is fun to say.

 

“We did,” Pearl nods.

 

“I just had my orangest dinner ever,” Francesca passes along.

 

Levi’s not looking at Fran, he’s looking at Mariana.  Fran’s not sure why everyone’s looking at her. She’s being really quiet, not even talking.

 

“You okay?” Levi asks, pulling up a chair next to her.  Mari winces at the loud scraping of the chair.

 

Fran presses her lips together because it’s easier for Mariana to talk when nobody else is.

 

“I can’t…” she says, soft.  Her face is like the face Jesus sometimes makes when his trauma gets too strong.  Fran remembers Dominique saying they all have trauma.

 

This might be Mari’s trauma face.

 

“You can’t?” Levi asks.

 

(When Mari and Levi talk, it’s kind of like that game Shadow.  Where he says everything she says, except it’s not to be mean or tease.  It’s to help her get to the next word.)

 

Mari shakes her head.

 

She just keeps sitting there quietly so Fran asks Dominique if she can please go next door and get something.  

 

“Sure, babe.  I’ll come with you.  I’ve got to feed Roberta,” Dominique says.

 

Francesca hurries across the hall and tries to be patient while Dominique unlocks the door.  The second it’s open, Fran darts in. But she skids to a halt at Dom’s bedroom door. 

 

“Can I get something of ours out of your room?” Fran asks.

 

“Sure.  Thank you for asking,” Dominique says, but Fran’s already climbing up the ladder.  It’s a good thing she has shoes on, because that really helps with Righty not slipping.  Too bad there aren’t hand-shoes, too…

 

Up high in Dominique’s loft bed, Fran spots what she came for right away.

 

She throws it down to the floor and then concentrates on climbing down the ladder safely.  Then, she picks up Mariana’s Night-Night from where it landed.

 

“I’m going back to Jesus’s,” Fran tells Dominique, who’s still busy filling Roberta’s water for her.

 

“Okay,” Dominique nods, and Fran knows she’s watching to be sure Fran gets there safe, even though it’s just across the hall.

 

Back inside, it’s like somebody pressed pause.  Levi’s in the same position. So is Mariana. Pearl and Jesus are at the table, just quiet.

 

“Here,” Fran says, breathless, putting Mari’s blanket in her hands.  Just in case her trauma is like Jesus’s and she needs her blanket to feel safe.

 

Mariana’s face gets pink.  “What?” she asks.

 

Fran shrugs.  “Just in case you need it.  It’s okay. Nobody’s gonna tease you.  Lots of us need blankets, right guys?”

 

“Right,” Pearl answers.

 

It’s hard to pick where to sit.  Everybody else has all the main chairs.  Fran doesn’t want to be all the way on the couch by herself.  Mariana nods at her, and pats her lap.

 

Fran breathes a sigh of relief as Mari gives her a boost.

 

She tries to just keep breathing, stretching out the breaths as long as she can while Levi’s asking Mariana stuff.

 

“There’s no rush here,” Levi tells her.  “I’m listening.”

 

“There is…” Mariana says and all the words sound heavy.

 

“There  _ is _ a rush?” Levi asks back.  Mariana’s shadow again, but a nice one.

 

Mariana nods.  

 

“There’s a rush because why?” Levi wonders.

 

Fran can feel Mariana’s heart beating boom-boom-boom inside her chest.  It’s right against Fran’s back. Night-Night is in one hand, crunched small.

 

Glancing around, Fran can see Jesus copying her.  He’s looking around, too. Finally, he stops when he sees the clock on the microwave.

 

“Is it because of therapy?” Jesus asks.

 

Fran can feel the vibrating when Mari says, “Mm-hmm.”  There’s a big pause and Mari repeats, “I can’t.”

 

“Mari’s saying she can’t go to therapy, right, Mari?” Fran asks.

 

Mariana nods.

 

“So, you don’t have to, right?” Fran asks the room at large.  “Because we don’t force each other.”

 

“That’s right,” Dominique says coming in.

 

“It’s okay to take a break,” Jesus tells Mariana.  “I think it’s a good idea.”

 

“Your heart’s beating really fast, Mari…” Fran points out.

 

“They don’t,” Mariana says, and Fran is totally lost.

 

“Well, they’re not here.  We are,” Jesus says a little bit impatient and a little bit loving.  “You’re an adult. You can make your own decisions.”

 

“They’ll be pissed,” Mariana worries, and just like that, Fran knows.  Mariana’s talking about Moms.

 

“They don’t have to know,” Levi says, gentle.  “Just hang out here with us. We want you to.”

 

“Yeah, we can all hang out,” Fran nods.  “Because I did all my homework with Michael earlier, even the missing stuff.”

 

“Good,” Mariana gives her a squeeze and Fran feels proud.

 

Francesca loves just hanging out with The Avoiders not doing anything because everybody needs it low-stress, but especially Mariana.  Pearl and Levi have the blanket all about their dad. Jesus has his yellow one that he’s had forever, practically. Fran has her own version of Night-Night that she went to get and it looks really tiny now but it still has its silky edges.  Dominique’s the only one without a blanket right now, but not everybody has to be the same.

 

“Guess what?” Fran says after a while of silence.  “I’m pretending that all of us live here.”

 

“Whoa,” Jesus smiles.  “All of us in this tiny apartment?”

 

“No!” Fran giggles.  “I mean, like, if we’re neighbors or something.  But sometimes we get together to hang out like this.”

 

“That’s cool,” Levi nods.

 

“That seems so far…” Mariana offers on Jesus’s futon couch.  She’s drinking some coffee for extra energy.

 

“I like it when you don’t go to therapy,” Fran tells her.

 

“I like it, too,” Mariana nods.

 

“So, tomorrow’s the day you met me?” Fran double-checks with Jesus.

 

“Yeah.  That’s tomorrow,” Jesus nods.  

 

“What are we gonna do to celebrate it?” Francesca asks.

 

“I don’t know...you wanna eat pancakes and get all syrupy?” Jesus asks, just teasing again and Fran laughs.  

 

“No!  I don’t even like being sticky and I don’t even like pancakes that aren’t the Levi way…” Fran exclaims.

 

Levi laughs.

 

“All right.  Scratch that,” Jesus says.

 

“Do you got any pictures of us from that day?” Fran asks.  “Like, on your phone?”

 

“I do,” Jesus nods.  “I saved a bunch of the ones I liked back when Callie was doing her project thing for school.”

 

“You liked the ones with me, huh?” Fran asks, just because she likes to hear him say it.

 

“Definitely.  Come here, buddy.  Look at this,” he asks.

 

Fran gets up and walks over to where Jesus is holding his phone.  It’s a picture - no a video - and she presses play. It’s fast - only eight seconds - but it’s Jesus way younger and different-looking.  He’s carrying around Fran when she’s a baby. They’re both facing out. He has an arm under her butt and an arm across her chest. And he’s just walking around and she’s just looking around.

 

“That’s the day we met,” he tells her as Fran presses play on the video over and over.

 

“No way.  The  _ exact day _ ?” Fran asks, incredulous.  “Did Callie take the video?”

 

“ _I_ did, I think…” Mari admits.  “But I asked, and I showed it right away, so Jesus could see it…”

 

“So that was the consent way,” Fran nods.  

 

“Right,” Jesus nods.

 

“I’m like, pretty much obsessed with this video.  You look a lot different. But I can still tell it’s you.  Know why?” Fran asks Jesus.

 

“Why?” he wonders.

 

“Because you’re gentle.  Just like you are now,” Fran tells Jesus.  “Mariana, is this the way you taught Jesus to hold me?”  Fran sits on one hand and puts the other across her body.

 

“It is,” Mariana nods.

 

“Because I liked looking around?” Fran asks.

 

Mariana nods.

 

With Jesus’s permission, Francesca brings his phone around to share the video with Dominique, Pearl, Levi and Mariana (just in case she doesn’t have it on her phone anymore.)

 

Francesca feels proud.  Feels like even if Moms might not have wanted her in the family, Jesus did.  Because there’s this proof right here that says it. He wanted her right with him and she wanted to be right where he was.  So even though it was a hard time, maybe they helped each other.

 

Dominique says, “Fran, you look like you were the sweetest baby ever.  I just wanna kiss those fat cheeks!”

 

Fran giggles.  

 

“She’s still the sweetest,” Jesus calls softly and it makes Fran’s proud feeling grow.

 

Pearl just says a really long, “Awww,” and watches the video two times.

 

Levi is quiet when he watches.  Not smiling. Not even saying a single word.

 

“Do you not like it?” Fran asks.

 

“I think it’s really cool you have it,” Levi says, but he’s still really serious.

 

“But what?” Fran wonders.  “You didn’t say I’m cute or anything…”

 

“Oh, Francesca,” Levi’s face softens, and it’s like he’s surprised.  “Of course, you’re cute. I just...keep thinking this must’ve been a day when a lot of change was going on in your family.  And it’s this one moment of that day. And that’s pretty incredible, but also pretty intense.”

 

“Oh,” Fran says.  “I didn’t think about that.  Do you think I’m not being serious enough about it, Jesus?” 

 

“No, buddy.  It’s okay that you’re happy to see it.  Whenever I see it, I do feel a lot of feelings, but mostly I feel relieved...and happy to see it, too,” he says.

 

Fran stops by Mariana again and shows her.  Mariana just watches quietly, like Levi did.  When she’s done, Mari glances up at Fran and says, “This is way better than therapy…”

 

“Right?” Fran asks, smiling.  She doesn’t take the phone back because Mari’s still watching.  

 

Fran sits down next to her.  “Thanks for taking this video…” she says softly.  “Because I don’t remember this, but now it’s kinda like I can.”

 

Mariana pulls her close and kisses her on the head.

 

“You and Jesus really loved me, huh?  Even though...wait...did you know then?” Fran asks.

 

“Did we know what?” Mari asks.

 

Francesca doesn’t know why, but she’s embarrassed.  Her ears feel hot. She ducks her head.

 

Jesus comes and sits on the other side of her.  “Buddy, what’s up? Yes, we really loved you. Then and now.”

 

“But did you know...that I had CP?” Francesca has to force the letters out.  She hates the full name of it. And sometimes even the shortest form is still hard to say.

 

“We did,” Mariana nods.  “It was right around the same time, I think, that we found out.  Just before.”

 

“Really?” Jesus asks.

 

“Yeah.  I feel like it might’ve been earlier the same month?” Mariana asks.  There’s another pause. “Hey…” she says gently, focusing on Fran. “We knew.  And we loved you.”

 

“Really?” Fran asks now.  “I thought maybe it was before anybody knew and that’s why…”

 

“Nope, we’ve always loved all of you, buddy,” Jesus reassures.

 

“I think Stef and Lena would love me more if I wasn’t like this…” Francesca comments.

 

“I know…  I feel that, too.  I can feel the difference,” Mariana nods, like she’s sorry.

 

“So, how long can I stay here?” Fran asks, leaning against Mari.

 

“A while,” Jesus says.  You don’t have to worry about going home just yet.  As it gets closer, we’ll talk more about it. But we’ve got lots of time.”

 

“Like days?  Or weeks?” Fran wonders.

 

“Not just days.  More like a couple weeks,” Jesus says.

 

“Yay!” Fran cheers.  “I really wanna hug you about that!”

 

“Well, come here, buddy,” Jesus smiles.  “And thank you for asking.”

 

“You guys are the best,” Pearl tells them.

 

“You really are.  You three are like...what siblings everywhere should aspire to…” Levi says and Fran has no idea what he’s talking about.

 

Dominique sees and clarifies.  “He means...the way you guys love each other...it’s a good example for other siblings.”

 

“Like you and Pearl?” Fran asks mid-hug.

 

“Just like me and Pearl, you’re right,” Levi nods.


	83. Heartbeats

Dominique’s tried to keep it together ever since Fran showed that video of herself and Jesus together, the day they met.  (Actually, since earlier today, around the table, with Fran and Mom and Dad. All around the table. Fran pretending they were all family.)

 

Baby Fran is cute as hell and her cheeks are like little squishy pillows of baby softness.  But it catches her. The reality that Jesus was there, at thirteen, holding baby Fran...and that...had things turned out differently…  There might be a video like that of her, with Taylor at similar ages.

 

The age gap makes it jarring.  The circumstances, too. But grief doesn’t make sense a lot of times.  Definitely not in Dominique’s case.

 

It’s been a long time since being around Fran has been this triggering.  And Dominique hopes she doesn’t have to shut her out, like the first time she ever saw her.  Dominique draws a breath and pastes on a smile.  

 

“I’m gonna step out for just a minute,” she says, wanting to be sure Francesca doesn’t connect this back to her and blame herself.

 

“Why are you smiling so weird?” Fran asks.

 

“Francesca…” Dominique can hear Jesus reprimanding her lightly.

 

“I’m fine,” Dominique reassures and makes it to the door.  Closes it behind her. And then struggles with her apartment key in shaking hands.

 

“Hey...need a hand?” The voice behind her makes Dominique jump a foot.

 

Pearl.  Holy shit.  

 

“Sorry,” Pearl winces, sympathetic.  She offers a hand, palm up, for Dominique’s key, and Dom drops it into her hand and nods.

 

Pearl lets them in quietly and shuts the door behind them.  Locking it, too.

 

“What are you doing here?” Dominique accuses, rounding on Pearl.  She’s brusque. Hoping to cover up her shallow breathing. Hoping to keep breathing.  And not break down completely.

 

“I promised you,” Pearl says clearly.  “The next time you left, I’d follow you.”

 

“Just leave me alone.  I just wanna be alone, okay?” Dominique gasps.  The room’s starting to move. Her vision’s going funny.  She can’t climb the ladder up to bed if everything’s moving like this.  Damn it.

 

“Okay, sit down,” Pearl instructs.  “Can you put your head between your knees?”

 

“Leave me...alone…” Dominique gasps, falling ungracefully onto the couch and keeping a hand extended at Pearl.

 

She can’t stop shaking.  Can’t breathe right.  

 

“Roberta,” Pearl calls, and the cat’s tail flicks back and forth as she sticks her head out from Dominique’s room.  “Come here and see Dominique.”

 

Dominique is about to tell Pearl that Roberta won’t know what the hell she’s talking about when the cat makes her way into the living room, eyeing Cleo before jumping up on Dominique’s lap and cuddling her.

 

A few tears make their way down Dominique’s face as Pearl stands up and goes to the kitchen.  Dominique appreciates the distance. She’s starting to feel steadier.

 

“Apologies for foraging through your kitchen,” Pearl calls, “I just...here we go...wow.  I’ve never seen this before. Where in the world did you find lemon ice cream?”

 

Dominique glances up as Pearl approaches with her Haagen Dazs pint, a spoon and a bottle of water.  She leaves them on the end table and steps back.

 

“I have my ways…” Dominique admits after a long pause, regarding Pearl.  Then she reaches out and takes the ice cream and the spoon in a shaking hand.  Wipes her tears with the other. “Why are you doing this?”

 

“This is the way we support each other,” Pearl explains.  “Right? At the cabin? You guys gave me brownies and Kleenex and water...everything a girl could need to get through a hideous trigger…”

 

“I’m not,” Dominique denies, her eyes flashing to Pearl.  She’s so not ready to admit her history of awful flashbacks associated with Francesca.  Pearl might think she’s terrible.

 

“Need anything else?” Pearl wonders.

 

“Why?  Got somewhere to be?” Dominique insists, an edge to her voice.

 

“No.  I’m wondering, because we’re not all interchangeable beings,” Pearl explains.  “So?”

 

“Show tunes…” Dominique admits, quiet.  “But Roberta hides the remote from me out of spite when I leave her for too long.”

 

On her lap, Roberta purrs like an angel.

 

Pearl does an impressive search of all of Dominique’s furniture and finds the remote wedged on the floor under the couch.  (Roberta looks particularly annoyed that it’s been discovered.)  

 

Dominique tells Pearl which channel and Pearl turns it on.  Grabs Jesus’s grey blanket from ages ago, and sets it near her.

 

“You don’t have to stay…” Dominique insists, her voice resigned now.  (It’s obvious from Pearl’s face...she’s not a fan of show tunes.)

 

“I know you’re not used to having people here for you.  I know…” Pearl winces here. “This might be first of its kind Avoider support for you…  But I’m staying.”

 

It takes a good hour and a half just listening to show tunes, sipping water and eating the ice cream before Dominique feels like maybe...maybe she can talk.

 

“I don’t want them to come back…” Dominique admits softly, after turning off the TV.  “If I’m, like, in the middle of talking…”

 

“I can text them,” Pearl offers.  “Say we need some privacy, but we’ll let them know when we’re done and they can come back?”

 

“But what if they’re mad?” Dominique asks.  Even after all this time, her heart’s still pounding.  Breaking. She’s a little numb. Feeling more than a little vulnerable.

 

“They’re not.  And if they are, we’ll stay here, with the door locked,” Pearl promises.

 

Dominique lets out a breath.  Pearl texts and there’s a ton of responses all wanting Dominique to know they’re sorry and asking how they can help.

 

Pearl shows the screen:

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Hey, Mari and Fran.  Dominique and I need a little privacy right now in Dom’s apt.  I’ll text you when we’re finished. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Sounds good.  Sorry you’re sad Dom.  Here if you need me. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ OK I will not come back until you are ready.  I know a lot about piracy.   _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Pry Va See _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Anyway my phone doesn’t speak Avoider words. I will give you space. [heart emoji] [sun emoji] [unicorn emoji] _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ You guys need anything please let us know. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Sorry about the vid.  My bad. A little to real. Should’ve thought it thru more. LMK if you need anything, Dominique. _

 

Pearl says they just need some space to talk privately.  Everyone agrees. No one’s mad.

 

It’s weird as hell.

 

“I need you not to share this...what I share with you…” Dominique stresses.  

 

“I remember you telling me that you don’t tell many people about your stuff.  I understand that your privacy is important. I won’t share it.”

 

Dominique nods.  Small. “When I first met Francesca...she triggered the hell out of me…”

 

Pearl looks surprised.  

 

“It’s not her fault, obviously.  And she doesn’t know about it. Jesus and Mariana don’t know about it. Well, I told y’all a tiny bit earlier today, but they don’t really know the scope.”

 

“And Levi?” Pearl asks.

 

Dominique shakes her head.

 

“So, I got through that, and I thought this would be okay.  We could hang out. It’s not gonna be a thing. You know, once I got to know her as her.  And it’s been mostly okay.”

 

“But something changed,” Pearl offers, knowing.

 

“Today...she…  She was talking about how she was pretending she was in my family.  My mom, my dad, me and her. And I guess that, in combination with seeing that video...of Jesus with her as a baby.  When he just came back?”

 

Pearl winces.  “I remember you telling us a little bit earlier, about being really aware of who’s missing.  I’m sorry it’s just getting harder for you.”

 

“Remember how we were talking about blame?” Dominique asks.  “Back at the cabin. You were feeling to blame about what happened to Levi.”

 

“Right, and you told me...that it’s a gift that Levi’s still here to tell me that.  And if...your person were here to tell you, it wouldn’t be easy, but you wouldn’t stop trying to believe them…”

 

Dominique nods.

 

“This is about who’s missing?” Pearl surmises, gentle, giving Dominique an opening, should she want to talk more.

 

“Yeah,” Dominique takes a tissue.  Blows her nose. (Roberta looks seriously offended at the noise.)  “Without saying much...there are a lot of similarities...between Jesus and Fran...and me and…”

 

“Ah,” Pearl nods.  “So, it’s difficult to see Jesus with Fran when they were younger.  And...didn’t you say at the cabin once… Aren’t there other similarities with your stories?”

 

Dominique meets Pearl’s eyes and nods.

 

“God, that must be awful for you,” Pearl admits.

 

“Mostly, it’s fine,” Dominique says, waving off Pearl’s concern.

 

“Hey…  Please don’t minimize this,” Pearl insists.

 

“It is kinda awful…” Dominique admits in a tiny voice.  “Not always. But right now, it is.” She blows out a breath.  “The thing is? I remember tons of stuff from when I was Fran’s age.  More than I should. I know that things feel personal when we’re young like that.  Things that really, we have no control over. Things that aren’t our fault. Like the fact that she’s a similar age.  That she looks similar.”

 

“Right,” Pearl nods following along.

 

“So, the last thing I want is for Francesca to feel blamed here.  It is not her fault. And as long as she’s still a child, I wanna protect her from this truth.  I want her to keep as much of her innocence as possible. She’s the only one who knows a specific piece of my story...but I don’t know yet if she’s connected that piece back to her.”  Dominique sighs. “And she was happy.”

 

“She was,” Pearl agrees.

 

“And proud,” Dominique manages, her tears welling up again.  “And who am I to take that from her or take a moment when she knows without a doubt that her brother and sister always loved her...and make it about me and my loss.”

 

“But things come up,” Pearl argues, matter of fact.  “And sometimes it is the people we love the very most who trigger us…”

 

Dominique glances at Pearl.

 

“Levi triggers me,” Pearl nods easily.  “I know I trigger him. It happens. I know it’s not the same as you’re describing because Francesca’s still a child, and children don’t often know how to separate themselves from the bigger picture.  I’m just saying, it’s normal. It doesn’t make you a terrible person.”

 

“To be triggered by a child, though...an  _ actual child _ …” Dominique objects, still crying.

 

“If your loss was similar in some way?  And it sounds like it was? Then it makes a ton of sense.  Please don’t blame yourself for this.”

 

“I’m trying…” Dominique manages, through tears.

 

“Can I please give you a hug?” Pearl all but begs, and Dominique nods.

 

Pearl’s by her side in half a second flat.  Her hugs are very different from Mom’s. They’re intense.  Almost efficient. Like transferring love and compassion is a serious job and Pearl’s got to get it right, and get all the love in before the other person is at their limit.

 

Dominique backs away, wiping her eyes.  “I don’t think I can have her in the bed with me tonight,” she explains regretful.

 

“And Mariana hates the air mattress,” Pearl fills in.  “Listen. I’ll take care of it. Fran can sleep on the air mattress out here with me.  I’ll be on the couch.”

 

“Will you tell her about me?” Dom checks.

 

“Not if you don’t want her to know.  But just so you do know? She has triggered people before.  She knows when that happens it’s an accident and to give them space.”

 

“I know...it’s just never happened with us…  I don’t want to hurt her feelings,” Dominique insists.

 

“I know.  I won’t tell her.  It’s not mine to tell.” Pearl nods.

 

“Thank you.  I’m sorry...for acting like…”

 

“You were triggered,” Pearl says firmly.  “God knows, I know what I act like when I’m triggered.  It’s not always appealing. People don’t always have the patience for it.”

 

“Your mom?” Dominique guesses.

 

“Bingo,” Pearl nods.  “So, trauma’s messy. Nobody knows that better than other people living with it, too.  You can be however you are. You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.” 

 

“Truth is, I don’t wanna get rid of you at all.  Or Levi. Can’t y’all just stay?” Dominique smiles a little.

 

“Don’t I wish.  You’ve got the warm weather.  The lack of both Levi’s and my trauma, for the most part.  And built in support.”

 

“Yeah, it’s pretty nice here,” Dominique nods.  “Being on our own. I can’t wait for you and Levi, Mari and Fran to get to experience it, too.”

 

“Might be a while…” Pearl warns.

 

“Well, there’s no rush...except getting Mari and Fran out of that house with their parents.”

 

“Right?” Pearl insists.  “Listen, I’ve met them before, several times?  But sitting with them on their turf, with Mariana right there and seeing how they treated her, right in front of us…” she shakes her head.  “I hope they go to every single seminar. I am not kidding.”

 

“Me, too,” Dominique nods.

 

“You okay?” Pearl checks in again.

 

“I mean, not really?  But it helps that you’re here.” Dominique nods.

 

“That I am,” Pearl says resolutely.  “I’ve got your back.”

 

And for once, Dominique believes, that maybe it’s true...


	84. Zeppelin

Mariana can tell Jesus is thinking about Dominique and Pearl next door.  She is, too, and it’s safe to say most of them are. By now, Jesus has sent the video of him holding baby Fran to Francesca so she can have it.  (Assuming she doesn’t start sharing it with whoever, which Fran promises she won’t.)

 

Since going back to Dom’s isn’t going to be an option for a while, Levi breaks out his cards.  “Anybody wanna play Skip-Bo?” he asks.

 

“Is that like Uno?” Fran asks.

 

“A little,” Levi nods.  He steps closer to Mari for privacy.  “If you wanna play, we could team up? Jump in when you can or want to?  But no pressure.”

 

Mariana blinks.  There’s no denying that Levi’s remembering the awful game of Monopoly Junior that Mari shared about with him at the cabin.

 

“I don’t have to…” Mariana objects, soft.  She doesn’t wanna ruin the way the game is meant to be played, or ruin the fun for everyone else.

 

“But if you want to...I mean, I’d love it if we could be a team…” Levi nods.

 

“Really?” Mariana asks.

 

“Oh, are we being teams?” Fran asks, excited.  “Buddy, wanna be on my team?”

 

“Of course I wanna be on your team, buddy,” Jesus grins, but Mariana can tell he’s working to put it there.

 

Levi explains the rules patiently.  Going deliberately through each point.  It helps that none of the rest of them have played before either, so they could all use a crash course.  Plus Jesus and Fran never object to someone taking a little extra time, unless they’re triggered about something, too.

 

“The goal is to get rid of this pile, which is normally kept...right here,” Levi says moving the stack of twelve facedown cards out of Mari’s sight completely.

 

“Where?” she asks, confused.

 

“Right here?” Levi says, confused.  “Far left?”

 

“Mariana can’t see far left,” Francesca offers helpfully.  “The far right’s better. Here, I’m gonna move our pile far right, too.  But that means you should be in charge of it, buddy, because Righty’s not good at picking up cards…”

 

“I can definitely be on pile duty,” Jesus nods.

 

Francesca laughs so hard she snorts.

 

“Hey, I’m sorry.  I didn’t know,” Levi apologizes softly, moving their pile to where it exists again.

 

“It’s okay,” Mariana nods.

 

“Is it...like, everything on the left?” Levi asks.

 

“Basically,” Mariana nods.  “If you wanna get my attention...don’t tap that side either.  Tap this one,” Mari nods to her right shoulder, closest to Levi.

 

“Good to know,” Levi nods.  

 

“So, we’re gonna take turns.  And not do a lot of rushing, okay, buddy?” Jesus reminds.

 

“I know,” Francesca nods.  “It’s funner when everybody can play if they want to.”

 

Mariana swallows the lump in her throat.  This is so different from Monopoly Junior with Stef and Lena…

 

The game is going okay.  Mari’s been able to start two piles in the center of the table.  But then Jesus and Fran hit a run of cards they can play all in a row.

 

2, 3, 4, 5, 9…

 

Mariana reaches out and picks the 9 off and scoots it back to them.

 

“Hey!” Fran objects, laughing.  “No fair! Put back our six!”

 

“It’s not,”  Mariana shakes her head.

 

“Here, let me show you,” Levi tells her softly.  “9’s are purple. 6’s are red, and they have a little line under them to show you which side the bottom is…”

 

“Oh…” Mari manages, blushing.

 

“Hey, it’s an honest mistake,” Levi tells her.

 

“Can I put it back now?” Jesus asks.

 

Mariana nods.  

 

She sits back and doesn’t speak up for a while.  Only a little over half the cards are easily recognizable.  The others take time to read. But when they turn over a Skip-Bo, Levi asks where Mariana thinks they should use it.

 

“Anywhere, right?  So, we can turn again?” Mariana asks.

 

“Alright, so play this anywhere you want,” Levi nods.

 

Mariana picks a place for it.  They turn again, and it’s another Skip-Bo.  Fran’s getting seriously worried that Mari and Levi’s pile is going to run out before their own.  When they turn a 12, she relaxes.

 

Mariana’s happy to be in charge of playing all the wild cards, and starting piles if she has the cards for it.  

 

The game ends when Jesus and Fran’s pile runs out of cards first.  

 

“Let’s play again!” Fran exclaims.

 

But Jesus casts a look at the time.  “Buddy, it’s almost bedtime. You’ve got school, okay?”

 

“But our bed’s next door, and Dominique and Pearl need privacy, so can’t we just stay up and play another game?” Fran asks.

 

“We can borrow their air mattress, and you guys can sleep over here,” Jesus offers.

 

“No, Jesus.  You’re supposed to say, ‘ _ Sure, Fran, that sounds like a great idea, _ ” Francesca says, smiling.

 

“‘ _ Sure, Fran, it sounds like a great idea for you to get some sleep over here,’ _ ” Jesus teases gently.

 

“No…” Fran says, dragging the word out as she laughs.

 

“I’m gonna go next door and see if I can borrow their air mattress.” Jesus insists.

 

Mariana follows.  She wants to make sure Jesus is okay and speaking of privacy?  There’s not really much with four of them in Jesus’s one-bedroom.

 

“Oh, Mari, you’re coming?” Jesus asks.

 

She nods.

 

“Okay.  Fran and Levi, it’s just you two for a minute here.  Everybody cool with that?”

 

“Yeah,” Fran says.

 

“Definitely,” Levi nods.

 

When they’re in the hall, it’s quietly blinding.  The hall got new LED lights. Each one is as bright as an individual sun.  So, together? It’s not Mariana’s favorite. She has to fight to remember why she left with Jesus in the first place.

 

He hesitates at the door, sensing something on her mind.

 

“Did you wanna talk?” he checks.

 

“Just...are you fine?” she wonders.

 

“Why?” Jesus asks.

 

“He thinks you’re stressed, for one,” Mariana gestures to Dudley, who’s licking Jesus’s hand.  “I know...you don’t like...cards like we did together…” Mariana ventures. It worked in her favor that the word  _ game _ chose that moment to get completely rerouted on the way to her mouth.  Because Jesus is usually triggered by games.

 

“Oh.  It’s not that.  It’s… It’s Stef and Lena.  It’s Dom. You know,” Jesus shrugs.  

 

Mariana does know about Moms but is totally lost about his comment on Dominique.  

 

“No,” she offers.

 

“Oh.  Well...I think I triggered her,” he confesses.  “And it’s a day I hate. And Mom tried to grab you.”

 

Mariana shrugs.  “Not about Dominique, but about Moms,” she clarifies.

 

“Anyway, we should get the mattress,” Jesus continues.

 

Mariana shudders, stepping back.

 

“You don’t have to.  I can get it,” he reassures.

 

Mariana normally wouldn’t leave like this, but her tolerance for things has been going slowly downhill lately.  It makes her nervous...like… It’s been just over a year and a half since her accident. Lena won’t shut up about this awful countdown she has going.  How many more months Mariana has to recover. Or the chances go way down.

 

Lena, Stef, Tomas...Mari can tell they all think she’s made so little progress in 19 months.  If they’re right then what hope does she have with the five left to really get anywhere? Especially if she keeps skipping therapy.  Seriously, Moms are going to kill her when they find out.

 

Mariana opens the door and makes her way inside Jesus’s apartment again.  Then, she closes the door to his spare room where their stuff is. Levi’s asking Fran what’s next and Fran is stalling, not wanting to eat a snack because it’s one step closer to bed.

 

This day is so loaded with a thousand things.  How is Mariana supposed to process it all? Make sense of it all?  Jesus’s anniversary, Moms, Nick...just all of it?

 

There’s a tap at the door and Levi asks, “Can I come in?”

 

“I guess,” Mariana agrees.

 

“I don’t have to,” Levi says, behind the closed door still.

 

“Come in,” Mariana insists.

 

“You okay?” Levi asks.

 

“Hate the mattress…” she admits.

 

“Oh.  And now we have two.  No wonder you’re hanging out in here,” Levi murmurs, sympathetic.

 

Being in here...it reminds Mari of their birthday.  It feels like that was years ago. But what Stef shared that day.  Told everyone. About her driving drunk. Then the pictures Lena shared.  Then the website.

 

“Do you still wanna do the thing tomorrow?” she checks.

 

“Yeah, planning on it.  Do you?” Levi asks.

 

“It’s just...you know I did it, right?” Mariana asks.  It doesn’t feel right to involve Levi without him knowing this piece.  Besides what if Moms wrote about it on the site and he sees it tomorrow.  He might ditch her right there. Better to give him the chance to leave now.

 

“Did what?” Levi wonders.

 

“The accident.  You know it’s my fault?” Mariana presses.

 

“I know...that letter from that guy...was a big part of the reason why you did it.  I don’t blame you.”

 

“What if I told you I was drunk?” Mariana asks, unflinching.

 

“Were you?” Levi asks, not getting up to run away after all.

 

“I guess...I mean, according to Stef a few months ago, yeah…  And I guess everybody knew. Not me.”

 

Levi doesn’t say anything.

 

Mariana waves her hand at the door.  “So...if you wanna leave. Not do the thing tomorrow.  I understand.”

 

“I’m not gonna leave,” Levi says, soft.  Plain.

 

“Of course not…” Mariana scoffs.  “You’re perfect…”

 

Levi sighs.  “I’m not perfect, Mariana.”

 

“Perfect people always say that,” Mariana insists, not looking at him.

 

Levi leans in closer.  Drops his voice to near a whisper.  “You wanna know how perfect I am? I’m so perfect that I left when we were losing my dad.”  His voice is funny and tight. “I couch-surfed. Stayed with friends. Couldn’t bring myself to go back until I knew for sure…that he was gone.”

 

Mariana’s brows are furrowed.  “But he’s your best friend…” she objects.

 

“He was.  Yeah. And I couldn’t handle watching him...go...right in front of me,” Levi lets out a long breath.

 

“When?” Mariana asks, still stunned.

 

“Two years ago.  Thanksgiving. It’s coming up again, so I’m thinking about it,” Levi explains, apologetic.  “So, see? Not perfect.”

 

“So...what does that mean...for tomorrow?” Mariana asks carefully.  A conversation from a while ago with Dominique is nudging the edges of her memory.  She’s careful, not wanting to ask the wrong question where grief is concerned.

 

“It means, I’m not about to make the same mistake again with somebody I care about…” Levi insists.  “I know you think I should bail on you. Maybe you even expect it. But I’m not gonna do that. As long as you want to do this...I wanna be there for you when you do.”

 

She hands her phone to him.  Watches him glance at the screen where she’s flipped to November in her calendar.

 

“Will you put it in there?  So I can know? Be there?” Mariana asks.

 

When he hands it back, Mariana can see  _ L (and P) - grief _ on November 28th.  Almost a month away.

 

“Did you repeat this?” she asks.

 

“You want me to...what...make it annual?” Levi wonders.

 

Mariana nods.

 

Levi takes the phone back.  Presses a few more buttons. Hands it to her again.

 

“People used to say I was perfect, too…” Mariana admits.  “But I had to work my ass off. Make it look easy. It never was.”

 

“Yeah,” Levi nods, wiping his eyes.  “Listen, I know...you have no reason to trust me.  I bailed on my dad when he needed me most. But that’s why I’m not about to do that to you.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“And I’m not perfect,” Levi says again, a slight edge to his voice.

 

“I know.”

 

They head back out to the living room.  Fran’s had a snack and is in her PJs. Her air mattress is blown up.  Jesus is working on the other one. Mariana goes to change the futon from a couch to a bed.

 

“Can I sleep here?” she asks when Jesus gives her a hand.  “With you?”

 

“I mean, if you don’t mind a giant Dudley barrier, then yeah,” Jesus grins.  Mariana can still see everything it’s covering. All the pain.

 

“I’m gonna take the other one in here if that’s cool,” Levi insists, moving the second air mattress to the spare room.  

 

Mariana knows from the cabin that he likes a door between him and other people.  Maybe especially women. Especially when he’s sleeping.

 

“Who’s coming to school with me tomorrow?” Fran yawns, as Mariana crawls into bed on the futon, unashamed that she wants the same bedtime as her eleven-year-old sister.

 

“I will,” Jesus volunteers.

 

“Yay, so it can be Jesus and Fran Day…” Mariana hears Fran say.

 

“That’s right.  You two okay out here if I go hang out with Levi for a while?” Jesus asks.

 

“Yeah.  Night, Jesus.  Miss you,” Fran says.

 

“Night,” Mari echoes.

 

“Night, Mari.  Night, Fran. See you guys in the morning,” Jesus calls.

 

Mariana hears the quiet knock and then the click of the spare room door as it closes behind Jesus and Levi.


	85. Night Art

Jesus is just about to seriously bail, coming into the spare room and seeing the giant mattress in the middle of it.  Levi takes one look at him and struggles to set it up on its side against the wall.

 

“This better?” he asks.  You can sit in front of it if you want…” Levi offers.

 

“So, I can be under it if it falls on me?” Jesus quips dryly.

 

“No, so you don’t have to see it,” Levi insists seriously.

 

“I know.  Sorry. Bad joke.”  Jesus comes and sits, thinking that there might be another reason Levi wants him against this wall. If he loses it again, the wall behind Jesus is padded.

 

“You okay?” Levi asks.

 

“Wish everybody would stop asking me that…” Jesus breathes.  “Sorry,” he apologizes again. “It’s not your fault it’s just...a bad day...and it’s never not gonna be a bad day, so…”

 

“I guess...I meant...need to talk?” Levi tries again.

 

“I triggered Dom…” Jesus confides.  “And I hate that I did that, so soon after she told us that she needed us, you know?”

 

Levi looks like he wants to object somehow, but doesn’t.  Just nods.

 

“And I don’t know how much you know about...what happened to me…  But even though most of this day was spent sleeping when I came back?  The days before it were terrible. And the days after it...they weren’t what I expected…”

 

“Makes a lot of sense that it’s a bad day,” Levi nods.

 

“And then my moms…” Jesus moans, but stops himself.  “Wait. Maybe I shouldn’t talk to you about that.”

 

“You can,” Levi nods.  “You don’t have to be careful around me. You can talk about them.”

 

“Stef...she, like...went for Mariana...when her back was turned?” Jesus offers, running a hand down his face.

 

“What do you mean, went for her?” Levi asks, concerned.

 

“Tried to grab her?” Jesus clarifies.  “And it...like...flashed me back to about a million moments in my life.  When we were super young, I used to protect her. You know, when I could?  I couldn’t always. And then, like...when I was Gone? He was always threatening that if I didn’t cooperate?  He was gonna go take Mari instead.”

 

Levi’s eyes are wide.  “Does she know?”

 

Jesus shrugs.  “She knows I was trying to protect her.  Never really saw the point in scaring her extra.  He...the guy who took me? He used to look at us in the yard.  Mari thought he was looking at her. But…”

 

Levi shivers.  “That’s creepy.”

 

“Yeah, sorry.”

 

“No.  Hey. You gotta share.  I’m here.” Levi says soft. “Dominique’s gonna be okay, you know?  Pearl’s with her. She’s not alone.”

 

“I know, but it was just tactless as hell. For me not to pick a private moment to show that to Fran and not when everybody was there.”

 

“But you didn’t know,” Levi points out, forgiving.

 

“No, but I should’ve…” Jesus presses.

 

“How?  You can’t read her mind.”

 

“I should’ve been able to on this,” Jesus shakes his head.

 

Dudley whines from his position, head in Jesus’s lap.

 

\--

 

Levi checks out the mini fridge next to him and takes out a bottle of water and a carton of Raspberry Rainbow Trix yogurt out of the fridge and sets them in front of Jesus.  Then, Levi’s on the hunt for a spoon. He finds a few in the top desk drawer and sets one on top of the yogurt.

 

“What are you doing?” Jesus asks, like he’s tired or exasperated.

 

“Basic needs,” Levi says, matter of fact.  “You’re dealing with a lot of stuff and I wanna be sure you know you can eat.  And have water and stuff. Do you need a blanket? You can use this one.”

 

“Dude, that’s your Dad-blanket, no,” Jesus denies.

 

“You want a different one?” Levi asks.

 

“I don’t want  _ any _ one, Levi, just...stop trying so hard.  I’m fine. I lived. I lived through that. So I don’t need you babying the hell out of me…”

 

“Hold on…” Levi opens the bedroom door and searches in the dark for a minute before coming back with the yellow blanket Jesus always tends to have with him when his trauma’s a thing.  “Here. You like this one, right?”

 

\--

 

As hard as Jesus is trying to block out all Levi’s attempts to help him, Officer Saunders’ blanket is always gonna get through.  Jesus accepts it. Drapes it over his shoulders.

 

“Hey...I know...I’ve kinda dumped a lot on you already…” Jesus begins once Levi closes the door again.  Jesus slowly peels back the lid on the yogurt. Dips the spoon in. Takes a bite. “But since I can’t talk to Stef about...you know…  Do you think I can talk to you?”

 

“What do you wanna talk to me about?” Levi asks, easily.  “I mean...I’m gonna be up for hours anyway, so you might as well…”

 

“Dude, still?” Jesus asks, incredulous.  “She’s not here, Levi. You’re safe, you know?”

 

“I don’t just got her on my mind though…” Levi admits, hurt flashing briefly in his eyes.  “And I’d rather not talk about it. So can I listen? To you?”

 

“If you want…” Jesus concedes.  “Stef actually doesn’t know this but...for a long time after I got home?  I felt...I don’t know how to explain it…but it’s like...I felt like...maybe I’d died?  And coming home...was kinda like whatever came after. It took me a while to realize...it was real, I guess?”

 

“Oh, wow,” Levi comments softly.

 

“Anyway, this blanket...it...always helped with that.  Because I got it in that in-between stage? Where I wasn’t There, but I wasn’t home or even on the way.”  Jesus pauses. “It was the first sign of safety that I really had. And it...anchored me, I guess. It let me know me being home was real.  I wasn’t dead. Sorry, wow, that’s hella morbid. My bad.” Jesus laughs, uncomfortable.

 

“No, it’s not,” Levi denies. “I mean...I can’t relate exactly...but I have this root beer bottle in my room.  I’ve had it since I was a kid. Since Dad made us root beer floats with  _ Dad’s Root Beer _ .  And I was, like, beyond impressed like...first of all, ‘ _ Dad, did you  _ make _ this root beer _ ?’ And second?  It came in a really fancy glass bottle.  And, even though my parents are from an older generation, I’d never seen root beer in a bottle before.”

 

“How old were you?” Jesus asks.

 

“Five, maybe?” Levi guesses.  

 

“Well, hell yeah, that’s impressive then,” Jesus nods.  “So, he burst your bubble then? Told you he didn’t make the root beer?”

 

“No, he played along.  Told me a whole story about the root beer factory where it was made and everything.  I asked if I could keep the bottle. He said, sure. Not every one, but I could keep this one.  My first one. So, I did. And a few years later...when everything went down with... _ her _ …I guess I kinda felt like that.  Not the glorious afterlife feeling.  Just the dead feeling. And I...wrote to Pearl.”

 

“Wait.  You didn’t know her yet, right?” Jesus checks.

 

“No, but we’d just been up there...with the intent to visit her...you know?  And then, back up again a couple weeks later. For my grandma’s funeral. Anyway, I wrote to Pearl on this tiny little scrap of paper.  I put it in the root beer bottle, thinking of messages in bottles. But we weren’t close to any ocean. So I just kept it. And whenever I felt dead for too long, I’d convince myself that nothing actually happened?  But I had that message to look back on.”

 

“You had proof.  That it did happen,” Jesus nods, sympathetic.

 

“So, yeah, I kinda get needing tangible proof of life, even if it’s your own,” Levi nods.

 

“That actually really helps,” Jesus nods.

 

“I’m glad,” Levi agrees.

 

Somehow, through listening to Levi talk, Jesus has finished the yogurt, and the whole water, besides. 

 

He’s not usually a fan of space-eating, but knowing his entire subconscious had been against it, Jesus is glad he managed, somehow.

 

“Thanks for this...I just...I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Jesus says.

 

“Uh, it’s the anniversary of your trauma.  It’s no wonder you’re kinda freaked out,” Levi says kindly.

 

“Yeah, but I mean this whole Stef thing.  She’s so ridiculous like, right to Mariana, right in front of me and Pearl and then...like just a few days ago with Fran.  I can’t forget that. Or forgive it...and yet...I’m like...if I don’t tell her how grateful I am, then what?”

 

“How many years have you been home, though?” Levi questions.

 

“This year’s ten,” Jesus supplies.

 

“Okay, so you’ve told her every year for ten years that you appreciate her coming to pick you up,” Levi explains.  “So, she knows.”

 

“But I didn’t tell her this year,” Jesus objects.

 

“Because she’s too busy being terrible, so you guys had to use the time you’d usually have connecting dealing with her crap.” Levi reviews.

 

“I guess, yeah.  I just...I remember crawling out from under that table.  I remember how I rolled up the leg of my pants, because I’d decided, in order for her to believe it was really me, she’d have to see the scar I got as a kid, living with her and Lena.”

 

“And?” Levi asks, patient.

 

“And I don’t remember her face…” Jesus admits.  “My memory is like, crystal clear rolling up my pants leg.  Coming out from under the table where I’d crashed and slept for like 3 hours.  The first time I actually remember seeing her? I came back from showering hours later.  My heart was pounding out of my chest. I was sure she’d left me. I was screaming about how I needed scissors.”

 

Levi cocks his head and squints.

 

“To cut my hair,” Jesus clarifies.  “He never let me cut it. So the first thing I actually remember Stef doing is cutting my ponytail off.”

 

“So she helped you,” Levi nods.

 

“Yeah, but I don’t remember the first moment I saw her anymore…” Jesus relays, regretful.  “I know what happened because she always tells me. I remember every single second of seeing Mariana again.  But I can’t remember when I first saw Stef. Or Lena. It’s weird.”

 

“Not so weird,” Levi allows.  “You were trapped with Him for a really long time.  He wasn’t safe at all. Not surprised that you’d block out your first meeting with more adults, even if they’re your moms…”

 

“I just...think they’ll hate me...you know?  If they know?” Jesus admits. “For a long time I had zero memories from the day before I escaped right through until after the New Year.  I’d been home over two months by then, and I just...blocked everything out. And some stuff has come back, but...other stuff? I don’t know if it ever will.”

 

“And that makes you feel guilty as hell,” Levi fills in.  “But you don’t owe Stef your memories anymore than you owe her your gratitude, Jesus.”

 

“Dude, you don’t get it.  You had an amazing dad. You’ve got an amazing mom.  You don’t know what it’s like to...just not. To have total strangers take you in.  Save you from all of it. Not once. But twice.”

 

“Sounds like, no matter what you do, you’re always in the hole,” Levi observes.

 

For a split second, Jesus imagines himself crammed in a duffel bag.  Hearing dirt tossed over it by the shovel-full.

 

He shakes his head.   _ Not the hole Levi meant.  Come on. _

 

“I meant indebted,” Levi clarifies wincing.  

 

However good a job Jesus thinks he’s done at hiding his grave-trigger, Levi can still read him.  “Yeah,” Jesus nods. “I know. And you’re right. There’s no possible way to repay them.”

 

“You guys saved  _ me _ …” Levi points out, gentle.  “So, I know the feeling, kinda.  But I also know you guys wouldn’t like it if I was constantly trying to settle a debt in our friendship.”

 

“No, dude, that’s not healthy,” Jesus shakes his head.

 

“Neither is living in emotional debt to Stef and Lena.  They did the minimum,” Levi points out.

 

Jesus is so close to hitting Levi.  Closer than he’s ever been. But he doesn’t.  Because unlike when he was a kid, he can control himself now.  “You think that because you never lived without it.”

 

“Basic needs are basic, though right?” Levi presses.  “Food, water, shelter, safety…”

 

“I guess,” Jesus admits grudgingly.  “But kids cost money.”

 

“But most parents don’t point that out to their kids,” Levi explains.  “If I needed new clothes, they took care of it. And they weren’t always looking to me to make them feel good about providing that to me.”

 

“What are you saying?” Jesus asks, guarded.  “That this thing about me needing to go there and talk it through with Stef is like...she needs to feel good about it?  For driving three hours to take me home?”

 

“I didn’t say it…” Levi shakes his head.  “Just...you don’t need to. It’s not healthy.  Stef shouldn’t need you to validate what she did in order to feel good about it.  Having you here and alive and doing everything you’re doing? That should be more than enough.”

 

“I never feel like I’m doing enough.  Or like I am enough…” Jesus confides.

 

“Not really surprising, but I get it,” Levi nods.  “I’m sorry if I overstepped talking about your moms.”

 

“No, I think I needed to hear it.  I think all you guys have been trying to tell me.  It just...takes a minute...to sink in.”

 

“It’s hard to realize your parent isn’t the amazing person you built them up to be in your mind, right?” Levi says, like he’s suddenly exhausted.

 

“Definitely,” Jesus nods.  “Listen, I’m gonna go to bed.  You got this? Can you tip it back without waking up the house?” he asks, gesturing to the air mattress.

 

“I’ll take a hand if you’re offering,” Levi admits.  

 

Together, they ease it down to the floor as quietly as possible, and then Jesus and Dudley leave together.  Jesus makes his way around the futon to the far side, and whispers. “Mari, Dudley’s jumping in. Don’t be scared.”

 

Dudley jumps up and snuggles in, taking up Jesus’s entire half of the bed.

 

“What are you even doing?” he whispers.  “Move over.” Jesus climbs in, too, shoving Dudley into the middle.  

 

Mariana’s still asleep.  Jesus tries. But all he can think about are all the pieces of his life and his history that are starting to shift.  

 

That are starting to look altogether different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part III


	86. Are You Ready Yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mariana’s website dedicated to her TBI-recovery will be included in full. The entries signed by Lena, Stef or Brandon are what Levi and Mariana are reading together in this section. 
> 
> However, myself and my sis (TJ) thought that it was vital to include Mariana’s perspective on the events described. So prior to most entries, you’ll see a heading beginning with: Mariana - date and time of day. While not necessarily memories that Mariana has retained, they are her perspective on the events as she experienced them in real time.
> 
> For reference, ficdirectory wrote all of the LovingLink entries by Stef, Lena and Brandon first (as well as Mariana’s own perspective on the crash.) And later - TJ - also a brain injury survivor - added Mariana’s perspective in the moments Mariana’s family describes - in addition to some extra moments they did not include in the website.
> 
> If you’ve read There’s No Telling, you’ll see there is some overlap as far as Mariana’s point of view in her own recovery early on. It was writing that story that convinced us just how vital it was to include Mariana’s perspective on these events in real time.

There’s no way Mariana’s ready for this.

 

It was bad enough, Lena releasing that picture of her recovering back in May.  She doesn’t want to know what else might be included on a website fully dedicated to the most painful time of her life.

 

She and Levi arrive at Avoidance around 10:30 AM.  Mariana started the day slowly as she could manage (what with Francesca’s alarm going off at 6:30 and Fran and Jesus struggling not to make noise as they got ready and left for the day.)

 

Mariana had managed to sleep fitfully until about 8 AM and tried not to stress about the fact that there just was no movement from Levi’s room until about 10:30.  But being a guy, he only needed about ten minutes to be ready to go.

 

By then?  Mariana was fully ready.  

 

She’s got her laptop.  Sunglasses. She’s even pulled a page from Jesus’s book and packed snacks - coffee, chips and salsa, trail mix, some rice cakes.  Mariana just has a feeling she’s not going to have much of an appetite. Or that she’ll really want to pack everything up to go anywhere on a break.  Just as easy to close the laptop.

 

Anyway, now?  They’re here. Avoidance is brighter than usual and Mari’s glad for her shades.  Levi doesn’t seem to be in a huge rush, which helps.

 

“So, you still wanna do this?” he checks.

 

“Yes,” Mariana nods.

 

“We can take some more time, if you need to,” he urges.

 

“I’ve taken time.  I need to see it,” Mariana says definitively.  

 

She opens her laptop and pulls up the LovingLink account that she saved to her favorites.  (She’s self-conscious, too, that Levi might comment about how her computer font is defaulted to 125%, which probably looks huge to him, but makes everything more readable for her.)

 

“It’s fine,” Levi reassures gently.  Though Mariana’s pretty sure he can’t read her mind, Levi’s always been attentive to her feelings.

 

Mariana takes a deep breath, and opens the site.

 

Her name dominates the entire top of the page.  Mariana’s already cringing. This is going to be humiliating.  But still. She has to know.

 

Silently, Mariana scoots the laptop over an inch so that both she and Levi can see the screen.

 

“So, I remember you need me to pace myself a little when I read.  So I’m gonna make sure I do that,” Levi nods.

 

“Just go.  Start, I mean,” Mariana manages, impatient.

 

“Alright,” Levi agrees, and he clicks on the top, where it says Mariana’s Story and reads.

 

\--

 

**Mariana - Wednesday, March 4, 2020 - 2:57 AM**

 

No way out

 

‘Cause how do I escape my skin

 

My sin

 

You give it to me

 

The out without knowing

 

But I know it

 

Floor the gas get me out let me go

 

I am the walking dead 

 

Headlights silence drowning

 

Nothing

 

\--

 

**_LovingLink - Thursday, March 5, 2020 - 9:49 AM_ **

_ Mariana was in a car accident in the early morning hours of Wednesday, March 4th.  She was airlifted to UCSD Medical Center. Most concerning is her head injury. We created this site to keep friends and family updated.  Mariana’s not having visitors at this time, but we appreciate your love and support and we will update as we have more information, so please check back. _

 

_ -Lena Adams Foster _

 

\--

 

Mariana’s trying to do the math in her head.  But all she’s coming up with is a bunch of blanks, trying to think back on that morning at all.

 

“You okay?” Levi checks after he takes his time through the first entry.

 

“That’s the next day.  The 5th,” she finally manages.  “They barely waited.”

 

“Rude…” Levi offers, sympathetic.

 

“Lena isn’t...she didn’t make this.  There’s no way. So, who did it?” Mariana asks, even though she knows Levi doesn’t have any answers.  

 

Most people would ask why she cares about that, but not Levi.  He gets that Mariana asks questions because they’re relevant. (Because this hellsite wouldn’t exist if somebody had just let Moms struggle to do it themselves.  They would’ve given up.)

 

“Maybe it’s a hospital thing?  Maybe staff helped?” Levi offers.

 

Mariana shakes her head.  “They would’ve asked me. That’s the funny thing.  To make this.”

 

“Well, who else was there?  Can you ask one of your sibs?” Levi asks.

 

“Not Jesus,” Mariana shakes her head.  “I don’t want him stressing about this.  And not Fran obviously.”

 

“So that leaves Brandon…” Levi wrinkles his nose as Mariana shakes her head.  “Jude, or Callie, right?”

 

Mariana opens a text:

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Don’t tell Moms but I found a thing online about my TBI they kept.  Like a diary. But they can’t do tech stuff. Do you know who helped? You know, make it? _

 

**_Callie:_ **

_ They kept a public diary about your recovery online???  Are you okay? You’re not reading it alone, are you? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ No.  Focus, C.  Who helped them w it? _

 

**_Callie:_ **

_ Brandon, probably :/ He was always on his phone back then…  You okay? Seriously? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Yes, other than wanting to kill B.  Can I text if I have ?s as I read this? _

 

**_Callie:_ **

_ Yeah, of course.  Take care, okay? Love you. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Don’t share abt this, please.  So whatever that it even exists, you know?  Not to Moms / sibs. _

 

**_Callie:_ **

_ Don’t I always keep your secrets? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Will you keep this one? _

 

**_Callie:_ **

_ Yes. _

 

“Callie says it was probably Brandon who helped them set it up…” Mariana bristles.  What’s next?”

 

\--

 

**_LovingLink - Thursday, March 5, 2020 - 4:47 PM_ **

_ As this apparently bears repeating, Mariana cannot have any visitors at this time.  Do not come to the hospital asking for updates. We appreciate the respect for our privacy as we wait for our precious girl to wake up. _

 

_ -Lena Adams Foster _

 

_ \-- _

 

“I wonder why they were so against visitors coming?” Levi asks.  

 

“I don’t know…” Mariana ventures, and finds the entry on her phone.  Screencaps it and sends the picture to Callie.

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Who was Lena losing her shit about here?  Do you know? _

 

**_Callie:_ **

_ Ana. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Wait.  Ana came?  Well, what happened? _

 

**_Callie:_ **

_ She came to the waiting room.  Mama freaked out. Ana had read the site (OH...THAT SITE.  Mama tagged you in it on Facebook, I guess) so she was worried and came to see how you were.  Mama wouldn’t even let her in the waiting room. Threatened to call security. Made her leave.   _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ That’s it? _

 

**_Callie:_ **

_ I may have walked her out and smoked a cigarette with her.  I let her know you were alive. (She was so worried) and suggested her keeping a low profile and getting her updates on you where she got the initial one, so that Mama didn’t actually call security on her… _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Thank you. _

 

Mariana wipes her eyes.

 

“You okay?” Levi asks again.  “Who came to see you? Did Callie know?”

 

“Ana.”

 

“Your birth mom?” Levi asks.  “Lena didn’t seem too happy about it…”

 

“No, God forbid our mom actually give a shit about me…” Mariana scoffs.  “She wanted to know how I was, and Lena wouldn’t even let her in the waiting room, I guess…”

 

“I don’t understand them.  Stef and Lena? Why would they act like that?  I mean, I get that there were reasons you and Jesus were removed from her, but it seems...harsh...to not even tell her you’re alive.”

 

“I know.  I mean...our feelings for Ana are complicated…” Mariana ventures.  “But yeah. It is typical, though. Like...look at how they reacted to Fran asking about Timothy…”

 

“They’re so possessive,” Levi comments.

 

“I know,” Mariana nods.

 

“So, how are you doing with this so far?” Levi wonders.

 

“I wanna keep going,” Mariana insists.

 

“Okay, but are you okay?  Like, emotionally? To keep going?” Levi presses.

 

“Are you asking me if I’m gonna lose my shit?” Mariana asks, unflinching.

 

“No.  I’m saying, what you’ve found out already is kind of a lot.  It’d make sense of you needed to take a minute. Talk about it, or whatever.  Ask Callie more stuff.”

 

“Yeah, I don’t know what I’d do without her.  I mean, since I can’t go to Jesus with this…”

 

“You’re not gonna tell him?” Levi asks, surprised.

 

“What would it do?” Mariana asks.  “Probably just open that whole box of worms for him again…  Re-traumatize him. It’s not worth that. I don’t wanna put that on him.  It’s still a hard time of year for him.” 

 

“I know,” Levi agrees.  “I’m just saying. This might be extra hard for you...without him…”

 

“Maybe,” Mariana allows.  “Probably. I’m just...not ready to tell him.  The last time we knew Stef and Lena overshared about us in public turned major, and I know how sheltering he is with me.  Like…”

 

“You don’t have to justify your choice to me,” Levi reassures.  “I’m just… I care about you. And I want you to have all your people around you.  You know, if you want them.”

 

“I know.  I mean, thanks.” Mariana says.

 

There’s silence for a while, and Mariana soaks it in, glad she’s shut her laptop for now.  She sighs.

 

Levi raises his eyebrows at her.

 

“I just…  I remember nothing about my accident.  Like...zero. There are a few hazy moments I can, like, conjure, if I try...but nothing, like...full?”

 

“So, are you scared about what we’re gonna find?” Levi asks, gentle.

 

Mariana nods.  “I mean, I know Lena didn’t exactly drop a lot of details when Ana tried to stop in and visit, but...I have a bad feeling about all this…  Plus...I don’t know...I always wondered...if Ana cared about what happened to me. I couldn’t ask. Because, who? How? When? You know?”

 

“Right,” Levi nods.  “Not exactly something you can drop into casual conversation, especially when words are hard…”

 

Mariana nods.  “I just...feel like they should’ve told me?  Like, at some point? But they didn’t.”

 

“No, they didn’t,” Levi echoes.  “And you’re worried about what Lena might choose to go into detail about…”

 

“Yeah.  As of now...seems like I’m still unconscious.  But...Levi...I don’t wanna know what the hell they’re gonna say when I wake up.  And who all read this? Who, in my life, knows all this personal stuff that I can’t even remember?”

 

“Hey,” Levi says, quiet.  “Can I hold your hand?”

 

“Wrong side…” Mariana mutters, apologetic.

 

Without a word, Levi gets up and moves, so he’s sitting on her right.  “Better?”

 

Mariana nods.

 

“Can I hold this hand?” he asks.

 

Another nod.

 

He threads their fingers together.

 

“Whatever we find….” Levi says slowly.  “I’ll be here.”

 

Mariana nods, swallowing her tears.  “When we’re done? I want the entries.  You know, for me? But I want to delete it.  I want it gone.”

 

“So, you want to copy their entries somewhere so you’ll have them?” Levi asks.  “Like this?” he asks, highlighting the first two and copying them into a blank document.

 

“Right.”

 

“But when we’re done reading the LovingLink...you want to figure out how we can delete it.  So it’s gone, permanently.”

 

Mariana nods, resolute.

 

“Okay.  I don’t think it should be too hard.” Levi agrees.

 

Mariana keeps looking at him, serious, behind her sunglasses.

 

“Mariana, you have my word,” Levi promises.

 

“Okay then,” she nods.  “Let’s keep going.”


	87. You Remind Me

**_LovingLink - Friday, March 6, 2020 - 6:13 AM_ **

_Today is Day 2 of Mariana’s coma - counting the 4th as Day 0.  She’s responding to pain, which is a good thing, we’re told._

 

_Honestly, we are all getting kinda stir crazy around here.  Probably because we have the doctors’ words in our minds. The sooner Mariana wakes up, the better her chances are._

 

_I’m a numbers guy_

 

_\--_

 

“Wait.  Guy? Who wrote this?” Mariana asks, panic building.

 

Levi scrolls ahead.  Looks like Brandon,” he grimaces, pointing at his name with the cursor.  “You okay?”

 

“No!  _Brandon_ did updates about me, Levi!” Mariana manages.  Her heart beats fast-hard - a rabbit running - afraid.  About to be…

 

“I’m sorry,” Levi apologizes.  “I can tell that scares you, and I’m sorry.”

 

“I just...I didn’t…  I mean...I don’t…” Mariana struggles to push evaporating words through her thick throat.

 

“You didn’t…” Levi starts.  “Maybe you didn’t want Brandon updating?”

 

Mariana shakes her head.  Nods.

 

“ _See_ me…” she manages.

 

“You didn’t want Brandon to see you?” Levi asks.  “When you were recovering here?”

 

Mariana nods, hoping to convey just how much she means it - all of her desperation - from behind the sunglasses.

 

Levi thinks about this, quiet for a while.  “I think that makes a lot of sense…” he offers.

 

“You don’t have to,” Mariana shakes her head, already trying to remove herself from the horrible panic.

 

“No, I mean...you were really vulnerable there.  And I know...the thing that happened before the accident...that’s all tied in here.”

 

( _Handcuffs - A strong hand, pinning both of hers down - Air on her back as the teeth her Valentine’s dress release…_ )

 

Mariana shivers.

 

“It makes sense you wouldn’t have wanted him seeing you then,” Levi continues.  “When that was happening.”

 

Nodding back to the screen, Mariana’s ready now.

 

Levi keeps reading.

 

\--

 

_I’m a numbers guy and even though I know everybody says not to ever Google a medical condition because it will tell you bad news, I can’t help it.  I’m a realist, and her big brother._

 

_So by the third day (tomorrow) chances of a moderate to good recovery is 7%.  After 14 days, it drops to 2%. It also says that most TBI comas last 2-4 weeks.  Most recover gradually and many fully._

 

_That’s what we’re up against.  So, pray, send good vibes or energy or whatever you do that Mariana will wake up ASAP._

 

_Brandon_

 

\--

 

“God…” Mariana moans.  “He had me on a countdown before I even woke up…”

 

She wonders when she did wake up.  Must’ve been after two weeks. Because she’s doing shitty at moderate-to-good recovering.

 

“Yeah…” Levi looks like his head is spinning.  “Looks like he’s... _really_ into statistics…”

 

“But I’m not a statistic.  I’m…” But it’s no use. The word’s not there.  “Must’ve slept a while. Right?”

 

“Why do you say that?” Levi asks.

 

Mariana gestures to herself.  “Hello?” she asks. “This is not moderate-to-good.”

 

“No, it’s not,” Levi agrees, and Mari’s panic-rabbit-heart picks up again.  (He’ll leave. _Don’t leave.  Don’t leave. Don’t leave._ )  “Because it’s like you said.  You’re not a statistic. You’re a person.  You’re amazing-to-incredible, I’d say…”

 

The rabbit slows.

 

Mariana smiles.  Heat floods her face.  “Stop…”

 

“Okay,” he nods.  “Sorry.”

 

“No….I just...mean that...everybody…  It’s like ‘I could never do that.’ ‘I don’t know how I’d do it.’ ‘You’re outside.  Congratulations.’ But like… You could. If it happened to you. You could. It doesn’t make me amazing-whatever just because I’m living with this.  It’s my life. It’s whatever.”

 

“Oh.  I didn’t mean to offend you.  I actually meant that in a much shallower way…” Levi admits.

 

“Oh,” Mariana echoes.  “How?”

 

“I meant it, like, you’re beautiful,” Levi says, quiet.

 

For a split second, she thinks he might kiss her.  But it passes.

 

“Please…” Mariana scoffs.  “My face doesn’t...match…”

 

“It’s the only face I’ve ever known.  And I really like it,” Levi tells her.

 

“Don’t.  Pity’s gross.” Mariana waves him off.

 

“Mariana, I’m not.  I’m saying, I don’t have another you to compare your face to.  Or you. So, when I see you? I’m not comparing you. I’m not missing anything.  I’m seeing you. Like, fully.”

 

“Weird,” Mariana decides.  “All I can see is...how I was...and how...I’m not that.”

 

“That’s valid,” Levi nods.

 

“More?” she asks, nodding at the laptop screen, which has gone to sleep in the meantime.

 

To be honest?  Mariana’s not sure she’s ready for more.  It’s so much already. Still, she nods at Levi, and he scrolls to find the next entry.

 

_\--_

 

**_Mariana - Friday, March 6, 2020 - Night:_ **

 

_Sea. Nothing. Sea._

 

_Here. Where?_

 

_No. Body. Heavy. Press._

 

_Panini._

 

_Tied._

 

_Sea._

  


_Mossy hum._

 

_Ears fly loose._

 

_Honey lull drips._

 

_What. C. What._

 

_“She...hat...pink?”_

 

_Pink. Hat._

 

_C. C. C._

 

_Curtain’s up. Light stabs gush._

 

_Press. Hand._

 

_“Squeeze…”_

 

_No. Body._

 

_Maybe?_

 

_Nothing._

 

**_LovingLink - Friday, March 6, 2020 - 9:15 PM_ **

_So wow.  I guess a lot of you were sending out good energy for Mariana because Jesus just came in here and said that Mariana opened her eyes.  She looked at Callie. When Callie asked Mariana to squeeze her hand, she did._

 

\--

 

“No.  That’s wrong,” Mariana insists.

 

Since the last entry, with Brandon doomsday-predicting just how bad her recovery would be if Mariana didn’t wake up ASAP.  Well… She’s been pretty positive that it probably meant that she took her time waking up. That the next few entries were going to be full of updates like the first couple.

 

But this?

 

“No, what?” Levi asks.  “What’s wrong?”

 

Mariana gestures to the screen, impatient.  “I didn’t wake up then!”

 

“Do you remember it?” Levi asks, no judgement.  “Waking up? Squeezing Callie’s hand?”  


Mariana shakes her head.  But Levi’s comment jogs Mariana’s memory.  Callie would know. She has a head for dates.

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_B’s hellsite says I woke up and squeezed your hand.  What day?_

 

**_Callie:_ **

_The 6th.  Around 9 PM._

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_Are you sure?_

 

**_Callie:_ **

_Yes, positive.  I came and told Jesus first thing._

 

Mariana’s stomach sinks.  She glances at Levi. “She says it’s right.”

 

“What’s up?  Are you still hung up about Brandon’s stats?” Levi asks.

 

Mariana pictures her, a hanger in the back of her shirt.  Suspended from a hook shaped like a 2%. _Most comas last 2-4 weeks.  After two weeks, chances for a moderate to good recovery are 2%._

 

“I should be better,” Mariana blurts.

 

“Why?  Because you woke up after two days instead of two weeks?” Levi wonders.

 

“Yes.  That’s what it said.  If I wake up sooner, I recover…” Mariana manages.

 

“But doctors don’t know everything, do they?” Levi asks quietly.  “And Brandon definitely doesn’t know everything.”

 

Mariana cracks a smile.  “That’s true...I definitely shouldn’t take his word for it....I just...wanna be better.  You know, for Stef and Lena...but I know...it’s not gonna change.”

 

“I don’t know about you,” Levi ventures.  “But I feel like, we’ll be seeing you make a ton of progress through this.”

 

“So?  I can’t even remember it.” Mariana objects.

 

“But it still counts.  It’s still hard work that you did,” Levi maintains.  He pauses. Takes a shaky breath. “Remember...the thing I mentioned about Dad?”

 

Mariana nods.

 

“I’m not trying to say I know better, or explain what you probably already know...but just...some people...can’t recover fully…”

 

Mariana’s eyes darken.

 

“It’s not an insult.  It’s just a fact. Like, as much as my dad wanted it?  He couldn’t get better. And I don’t blame him for not working harder.”

 

“They blame me,” Mariana maintains.

 

“I know.  And that’s messed up.  “I don’t think they should blame you.  At all,” Levi says, certain.

 

“Well, yeah,” Mariana nods.  “A little. Since it was my fault.”

 

“You needed help that you never got, Mariana,” Levi says.  “You’re getting it now. With the support group. With The Avoiders.  You’re not isolated anymore. Not drinking.”

 

“Low bar…” Mariana scoffs.  Waits. “Whatever. Let’s just keep going.”

 

“Please, don’t blame yourself,” Levi begs.  “You’re doing the best you can.”

 

“I can’t change,” Mariana admits.  “As much as I want to? And I know they want me to?  I know I can’t. And that’s what makes this…”

 

“Unfair…” Levi fills in.  “You’re being asked to do the impossible.  Maybe you’ve actually recovered 99%. But you’d never know that because of the ridiculous expectations everyone is putting on you.”

 

“Keep going…” Mariana urges.

 

So Levi takes a breath and reads.

 

\--

 

_Feels weird to be so over the moon about such basic stuff.  I’m just so relieved she woke up before day three…_

 

_I know she hasn’t really done much yet, but time will tell.  This is a good sign. Keep sending us good vibes and thanks to everybody who is signing into the comments and leaving love for us._

 

_Means a lot._

 

_B_

 

\--

 

“Wow, he is such an ass,” Levi seethes.  “How the hell does he know what’s basic stuff and what’s not?”

 

“Well, he wakes up every day and pops out of bed, no big deal, so he thinks…” Mariana gestures.

 

“So, he thinks you waking up post-accident is no big deal, too.  But it’s not the same thing.”

 

“You don’t think?” Mariana asks.

 

“I mean, I’ve never woken up from a coma before…” Levi allows.  “But I was around when things started getting tough for my dad. When breathing...wasn’t something he could do easily anymore.  And it just...wasn’t for me to say...you know? ‘ _Come on, Dad.  Breathing’s easy_ .  _You haven’t even done much yet_.’”

 

“Because breathing was maybe all he could do…” Mariana nods.  

 

“Like waking up and looking at Callie...squeezing her hand?  That was all you could do. And considering everything? That feels pretty huge.  And to be up on day two, besides.”

 

“God, I feel like I’d be curled up in a ball under there if I didn’t have you for this…” Mariana admits.  “B dismissing every damn thing. I seriously hope he stops updating. Is the next one his?”

 

Levi sneaks a peek.

 

“Doesn’t look like it, no.” Levi shakes his head.

 

“Okay…” Mariana breathes a sigh of relief.  “Even though...I don’t know… It might be too early to feel better.”

 

“You can be relieved,” Levi nods.  And it looks like he actually pauses and waits.  Giving her a chance to feel it.

 

But all it turns into is a weird dread.

 

“Are you okay?  You know? With your Dad-memories?” Mariana checks.

 

Levi nods.  “It actually helps to be able to kinda talk about them like this.  Otherwise, it’s hard to fit them into conversation...kinda like you were saying earlier.”

 

“I want you to talk about him.  You know. If you want,” Mariana encourages.

 

“I know, and I want to, I just...don’t want you to feel like I’m saying what you went through and what I went through are the same.  I know they’re not,” Levi says, seriously.

 

“Thanks,” Mariana nods.  “But it doesn’t have to be...like...a contest.  It helps to hear about your dad. To hear you loving and respecting him, even when...you know...later…”

 

“Right.  I did,” Levi clears his throat.

 

“And it helps...that you’re...kinda...I don’t know...with Brandon.  Like...not agreeing with him.” Mariana points out.

 

“Well, I definitely don’t agree with him.  And I’m glad to challenge his garbage attitude any day…” Levi nods.

 

“And that’s why you’re my favorite,” Mariana tells him, bumping against his arm.  “Do you think my computer font’s nasty?”

 

“Why?” Levi wonders.

 

“‘Cause Stef always notices and like...makes comments about how I should get my glasses adjusted if I need it that big.  That I’m not a geriatric yet.”

 

“She really doesn’t have a clue, does she?” Levi asks, sympathetic.

 

“No,” Mariana agrees.

 

“I like your font.  Because I know having it this size?  Means you can read along with me, if you want.  Rather than just having me do it. You can see that I’m telling you everything.  All the truth. And not leaving anything out,” Levi explains.

 

“Well, when you put it like that…” Mariana grins.  “I kinda like my font, too.”


	88. Small Leaf

**_Mariana - Saturday, March 7, 2020 - Early Morning_ **

 

_Raw skin. Move._

 

_Move._

 

_Can’t._

 

_Rabbit heart. Waves crash me._

 

_“Hey there…”_

 

_Buried._

 

_Caught._

 

_Bait._

 

_Left._

 

_No no no no no._

 

_“Mariana?”_

 

_Held fast._

 

_“Sweetie?”_

 

_Hailstorm bed confesses._

 

_Rabbit can’t run._

 

_I crack open._

 

**_LovingLink - Saturday, March 7, 2020 - 7:09 AM_ **

_Hey everyone,_

 

_This Mom has not slept well since 3 AM Wednesday.  So forgive me. I’m about to get real here…_

 

\--

 

“Oh, God…” Mariana moans.  “She’s the worst when she’s sleep-drunk…” (Levi’s gotten used to Mariana wanting to know first thing, who’s writing what.  A brief scroll down the page has revealed this entry’s author as Stef.)

 

(Mariana’s tense.  Hasn’t expected this.  Bad enough when it was B…)

 

Levi quirks a smile at the turn of phrase, but pauses.  Closes the laptop. “You wanna take a minute? Get prepared?”

 

“I mean....I don’t even…”  Mariana gestures. She takes a breath, getting used to Levi’s patience, and the fact that he’s not one to make fun of her.  Just for a good measure, Mariana takes another minute to sit. Closes her eyes. “It’s not like...it could be worse than the stuff she says to me every day, right?”

 

“We don’t know that,” Levi says honestly.

 

“I just...I’m trying to buttress myself here…” Mariana explains.

 

“Buttress...what is…” Levi looks confused but then types into his phone.  “ _Oh_...buttress…  I got you.”

 

(He Googles her words.  Embarrassing. But she kinda loves it, too.)

 

“You do?” Mariana asks.

 

“You’re trying to, like, fortify yourself.  Against whatever she might say. Right? By telling yourself you’ve already heard worse?”

 

Mariana nods.  Gulps. “It’s stupid.”

 

“No, it’s not,” Levi insists.  “It’s smart. I don’t really know Stef.  But you do. You know what you need to do to feel ready for this.  Trust yourself.”

 

“If you’re ever...you know...about this?” Mariana ventures.  “Like, if they’re reminding you too much of Peanut Butter Cookie?  We can stop. Like, whenever. I can finish with Callie or something.”

 

“Hey, I’m okay.  I might need a few extra pauses.  But I’m here. For the long haul. But if you ever change your mind and want a break?  Like for today? Let me know. Shut the laptop. Whatever.” Levi nods.

 

“Okay.”

 

“Keep going?” Levi asks.  “Are you buttressed enough?”  He’s serious right now.

 

“Yeah.  Go.” Mariana nods. 

\--

 

_It is great that Mariana’s awake.  BUT. She has a long way to go. It has been almost 12 hours since she opened her eyes and she has yet to say a single word._

 

\--

 

“Seriously?  You just woke up like twelve hours ago…  And she knows that,” Levi exclaims softly, hurt.  “You’d think she could give you a minute to like...I don’t know...wake up fully…”

 

“What do you mean?” Mariana asks.

 

“Like…  The movies always show people waking up from comas like, ‘ _Hey, Mom!  Let’s get a pizza_!’ or something ridiculous like that.  But it’s...more...one step at a time. Not all at once.”

 

“Your dad again?” Mariana asks.

 

“No, just...life I guess?” Levi admits.  “But I guess, Dad, in a way, yeah. He was a firefighter, and one of his buddies got really hurt one time on a job.  Took him a while to fully wake up.”

 

“So, I’m not, like...dragging?” Mariana tries.

 

“Dragging?” Levi echoes.  

 

“World’s Slowest Coma Whatever?” she intones, like it’s a world record she might now hold.

 

“No.  Mari, I think you’re doing everything you can.  And I think it’s obvious...that Stef doesn’t get that.  She can’t snap her fingers on this one.”

 

Mariana nods at the screen.  “If you’re ready…”

 

Levi keeps going.

 

\--

 

_Whenever I go near her and she is awake, she starts screaming like she has no idea who I am._

 

\--

 

“I don’t remember this…” Mariana admits, her face getting hot.

 

Levi just looks at her for a while.  “You had a lot going on. It’s not your fault.”

 

“How did she even know?  Why was she even there? Why wasn’t she at work?” Mariana insists, until she remembers she has someone in her corner who can actually answer this stuff.

 

An answer comes as soon as she sent the text:

 

**_Callie:_ **

_Pretty sure Stef stayed because of the legal aspect…_

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_???_

 

**_Callie:_ **

_Your blood-alcohol level...her coworkers were around._

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_But I knew her, right?  I knew Stef? So why would I scream?_

 

**_Callie:_ **

_I’m not sure.  But I don’t blame you.  None of us like cops, right?  With our histories… So if she was in uniform when you saw her?  Or if you remembered she was a cop...maybe it scared you… I know you were dealing with a lot when the accident happened.  A lot you were worried she would find out._

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_Did she?_

 

**_Callie:_ **

_No, but Mariana, you didn’t know that.  You had no idea. And honestly, it was dark...you couldn’t move.  You had no idea what happened to you. That, alone, is pretty scary, right?_

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_But she wrote I didn’t know who she was._

 

**_Callie:_ **

_I know.  It sucks._

 

“Callie thinks it sucks that she wrote that,” Mariana reports.  “And that...maybe I screamed for a valid reason. Like a cop creeping in my dark room…”

 

“Sounds valid to me…” Levi nods.

 

\--

 

_I honestly don’t know how I will cope if my brilliant Mariana comes out of this mentally handicapped or different in some way._

 

_\--_

 

“Oh, my God…  _Here_ we go…” Levi rants.  “Somebody needed to tell her that a person’s value doesn’t rest in their intellect.”

 

“What?” Mariana asks.

 

“You shouldn’t be loved just because you’re smart,” he restates easily.  “Sorry. When I get riled, my inner-nerd comes out…”

 

“Aw…” Mariana says, somehow smiling.  “No, but this. She was worried about this.  But so was I. Because I knew...how they felt about it.  The… I mean...the fact that I was smart? It was pretty much the only thing about me they loved.  And I knew if I didn’t have that...that’s it.” Mariana shrugs.

 

“That’s so wrong,” Levi shakes his head.  “I mean, to my folks? Education was important.  My mom loved it when I brought home perfect spelling tests.  When I skipped fourth and fifth grades and went into sixth grade when I was nine…”

 

Mariana’s eyes widen in surprise.

 

“But that’s not the only reason they loved me,” Levi laments.  “And I wish you could know what that feels like… That kind of love.  From a parent.”

 

“Probably freak me out…” Mariana admits.

 

“I mean, that’s fair.  It’s kinda how Pearl felt after she met Mom.  Like, hardcore worried that Mom wasn’t nitpicking Pearl to death.”

 

“It’s what she was used to…” Mariana shrugs.

 

“Yeah.  Ready for more?  I can go slow.” Levi promises.

 

Mariana nods.  

 

They keep reading.

 

\--

 

_I don’t know what I’ll do if she doesn’t know who I am. If she’s in a wheelchair._

 

\--

 

“Yeah, ‘cause that would be the worst thing ever…” Levi mutters derisively.  “If that was my mom? She’d be over the moon you were awake. And alive. Just so you know.  You know? In case it helps. Sorry, I’m rambling,” he apologizes.

 

“No, it does.  It does help.”

 

\--

_When we adopted her and Jesus, that is not what we signed up for._

 

_Brandon, I think I’ll leave the updating to you and Lena.  I’m not cut out for this._

 

_Stef Adams Foster_

 

\--

 

“There it is,” Mariana breathes.  “This is not what she signed up for.  God, to know that...like this? Is this how Fran feels?  To know, like...they didn’t want a baby like her?”

 

Levi looks stunned.  Confused. Hurt.

 

“You signed up to be a parent, Stef…” Levi comments softly.  “You don’t get to cherry-pick.”

 

“She didn’t have to.  She got B,” Mariana remarks.  “He’s as close to perfect as she’ll get.  None of the rest of us even come close.”

 

“That’s not fair,” Levi shakes his head.  “As much as I always knew Dad loved Pearl...I never had any doubt he loved me, too.”

 

“Were you…?  Sorry, maybe it’s too much.  Too personal.” Mariana apologizes.

 

“You can ask,” Levi nods.

 

“Were you ever afraid...he’d leave you?  Like he left Pearl?” Mariana asks.

 

“I mean...I did ask him,” Levi nods.  “I was around thirteen and I was like, thinking about everything.  Really deeply. Kinda, from Pearl’s perspective. So I went and found Dad.  Just sat on the couch and kinda leaned against him and was like, ‘Hey, would you ever leave me like you left Pearl?’”

 

“What did he say?” Mariana wonders.

 

“He took a long time answering, so I got kinda freaked out.  But then he said, ‘ _I didn’t leave Pearl because I wanted to.  I left her because I had no other choice. It’s not that way here.  With you and Mom. No, son, I’ll never leave you._ ’”

 

“Then what?” Mari asks.

 

Levi shakes his head.  She can see him blinking back tears.  He clears his throat: “Then I was like, ‘ _Well what if you have to?  What if you have no choice?_ ’”  And he goes: ‘ _Then I want you to remember that I love you.  And I’ll always be with you._ ’”

 

Tears start falling down Levi’s face, and Mariana reaches for him.  Her hand stopping inches from his shoulder.

 

He nods.

 

Mariana touches him.  Feels his skin, warm, through his shirt.  He turns his head, so his chin rests against her hand.  Closes his eyes.

 

Then, Levi takes a deep breath and continues.  “He said he told Pearl the very same thing. But that he’s not sure she remembers, because it was so long ago.”

 

“Right,” Mariana nods.  “Sorry. I just…”

 

“No, I like remembering him.  Stuff he’s told me. I like being able to tell you.  And that you can hear it. And not… Because you’re not, like, invested?  If I told my mom? She’d cry, too, and then I’d be comforting her.”

 

“Instead of getting comfort,” Mariana nods.

 

Levi breathes out again, like a sigh, and smiles a little, though his tears.  “Are you up for anymore right now?”

 

“Sure, why not?” Mariana agrees.

 

\--

 

**_Mariana - Saturday, March 7, 2020 - Afternoon to Evening:_ **

 

_Dead. Weight. Head._

 

_Dread._

 

_Heavy. Hazy._

 

_Worst. Hurt. (Throbbing aching expanding contracting not ever gone)_

 

_This place. Shit._

 

**_Why?_ **

 

_“Calm down, Mariana.”_

 

_Seth. (Not Seth. Damn. Step. Stair. Stare. Lock. Cop.)_ **_Stef._ ** _No. You can’t be here._

 

_“It’s okay…”_

 

_Wow._

 

_How._

 

_Why is she so rude?_

 

_Crying. Again._

 

_Always._

 

_A flowing river of pain. Half dipped in novocaine then forgotten. Trash._

 

_Someone did shitty work trying to darken it here._

 

_Light withers me._

 

_So. Fucking. Loud. Oh my God. Finish me off kill me now I can’t with the goddamn beeping. So much tech but no one made the people fucking headsets so fucking people could fucking sleep…_

 

_Nothing._

 

_Mattress._

 

_Pounding._

 

_Beeping._

 

_Burning._

 

_Nothing._

 

_Jesus… He came back._ _The rabbit in my heart slows._

 

_Finally._

 

_I breathe. We touch fakely. It’s yes._

 

_C.  She brings pics, of course. Old and new. They’re all good ones. Nice interruption. The baby isn’t here. The pic looks new enough to relax me, though. Thanks, C._

 

_Nothing._

 

_Crinkling. (Fucking mattress)_

 

_Low voices talking._

 

_A new person._

 

_A fucking man. Professional man. Blond man. Wearing Nick’s fucking cologne. Is this a fucking joke?_

 

_“No…” HELL. NO. GET THE FUCK OUT NOW._

 

_“Nick…” Rabbit heart. My voice infuriates me in its quietude._

 

_Laughter thunders through me. Killing me cell by cell._

 

_I die some more. They don’t notice._

 

_Blond: “Not a fan of_ Eau de Doctor _, I see. Well, I’ll make this quick.”_

 

_He comes advancing the fucking loud fucking mattress crinkles I turn away avert my eyes no no no please rabbit’s running I’m contracting brain sloshing fire_

 

_Shut the fuck up don’t touch me no_

 

_“Do you know what this is?” Insisting. He would._

 

_Yeah, I fucking know what I’ll see._

 

_“Mariana?” C this time. “What’s this?”_

 

_Since it’s C I trust her, I flatten my eyes. Try to look, even through storm-tossed eyes - tornado brain. A flashcard in her hand._

 

_With…_

 

_Oh my God._

 

_The wood thing that I need that nobody_ has _here. It needs a lock. And a key for me._

 

_It closes._

 

_What the fuck?_

 

_It’s…_

 

_A…_

 

_(Floor. Gap. Crap. S’more. Shore. More. Say it say it maybe he’ll go)_

 

_…_

 

_“...S...Door…” (Nightmare. What the actual fuck?)_

 

_“Good --” Cologne Not-Nick this time. Cue rabbit._

 

_C interrupts him. “Just keep looking at me.” I breathe. I try. The world tilts. Sways. Doesn’t stay._

 

_C holds up one of her pics. Points to Step. The image blurs and swerves. Seth. (Oh, not again…) “Who is this?”_

 

_“No.” I look away._

 

_“Do you know who the president is?” Why. Won’t. She. Stop._

 

_“Shut up…” grinds out of my throat - a plea._

 

_More hushed voices._

 

_“...I’m concerned…”_

 

_“...Doesn’t know me…”_

 

_“...Or the president…”_

 

_I’m so beyond done it’s not even funny. Exhaustion smothers me with a cold muddy hand. It gunkens my brain. Can’t think can’t breathe can’t_

 

_C isn’t done, though. She squeezes my hand. I know it’s her but I can’t turn my head. “She knows the president. That’s her usual answer. She just hates him. Right?”_

 

_I summon the hate. And I nod._

 

**_LovingLink - Saturday, March 7, 2020 - 6:18 PM_ **

_Today was an eventful day.  Mariana’s talking more, which is good, but the things she is saying are not exactly PC.  A lot of outbursts. (And since all of you know Mariana, you know it’s not that far from the Mariana we all know, right?)  Though, TBH, it does feel a little bit like my sister’s been body-snatched…_

 

_\--_

 

Mariana feels this embarrassment - over a year old now - in real time.  Slap-cheeked heat. She averts her eyes.

 

“What the hell…” she manages, through tears that blur her eyes and clog her throat.  “What did I even say?”

 

“Hey…” Levi interjects.  “It doesn’t matter what you said.  Okay? It doesn’t. Because no matter what it was?  He shouldn’t have written this about you.”

 

What Mariana really wants to do is shove the laptop off the table.  Chuck her phone across the grass. But she needs it. She needs both.

 

Damn it.

 

“Go…” she grinds out.

 

“Mariana?” Levi asks.

 

“Go.  Do the thing.  You promised, Levi.”

 

He does.  Because he did promise.

 

_\--_

 

_Anyway, someone came in this afternoon and asked her some questions.  After telling him that he stunk, Mariana correctly identified “door,”after quite a pause.  But she was unable to tell who Mom was, which, understandably, has Mom pretty upset. Mariana was also more than a little fuzzy on the current president but we can’t blame her for that, right?_

 

_Brandon_

 

\--

 

Mariana screencaps the last paragraph and sends it to Callie with a row of question marks and angry emojis.

 

**_Callie:_ **

_Are you okay?_

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_Tell me.  You said you’d tell me._

 

**_Callie:_ **

_I will, just...is your friend still there?  Who you’re reading with?_

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_Don’t tell him.  Tell me._

 

**_Callie:_ **

_I will tell you.  I want to make sure you’re okay to hear this now.  You seem kinda stressed. So maybe take a second._

 

Mariana forces herself to breathe.  To calm down. Tries to count, but the numbers jumble in her head.

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_Tell me._

 

**_Callie:_ **

_The doctor who came to see you that day.  He was a man._

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_And?_

 

**_Callie:_ **

_And it freaked you out.  You said “no.” Then you said, “Nick.”  But Stef and B thought you said, “Ick…” and they laughed.  I didn’t correct them. Because I knew you didn’t want them knowing about what happened.  Mariana?_

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_Did I tell you?_

 

**_Callie:_ **

_You asked what I did after Liam...I filled in the blanks…_

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_Did I really not know Stef?_

 

**_Callie:_ **

_I don’t know.  She might’ve been standing on the same side of the room as the doctor.  You didn’t seem to want to look at him. So…_

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_Did I know...what B said?  The last thing?_

 

**_Callie:_ **

_You said, “Shut up.”  They assumed you didn’t know, but I said that’s your usual answer and you just hate him.  I asked you, to confirm, and you nodded, yes._

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_So, maybe I knew more than they thought?_

 

**_Callie:_ **

_Definitely._

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_Were you here long?  With me? In my room?_

 

**_Callie:_ **

_Went back to school the next day.  I came on weekends._

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_So, I can’t ask you about what’s coming?_

 

**_Callie:_ **

_No.  Sorry.  I love you, though.  If you need anything or wanna ask me or talk anyway, send me a screencap or text.  I’ll try to figure it out w you._

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_Thanks._

 

“I did know,” Mariana passes along to Levi quietly.  “Those things,” she gestures to the screen. “I did know.”

 

“Callie told you what really happened?” Levi asks.

 

Mariana nods.

 

“That’s good.”

 

“It’s just...the way they talk about me?  I wanna break things,” she confesses.

 

“Me, too,” Levi nods.

 

“Do you believe?” Mariana asks.

 

“Who?” Levi looks concerned.

 

Mariana gestures to the laptop.

 

“No.  I don’t believe them.  Okay? I believe you. I believe the way you were reacting had a reason.  And they weren’t looking for that.”

 

Mariana cocks her head.

 

“Well, they kinda blame everything on your injury, right?  So they think that’s the reason. They don’t even try to look deeper.  To think, ‘Hey. Maybe Mariana’s not comfortable with random dudes in her room...or Stef in her room...when you know...Moms haven’t really been the safest either, for you.”

 

“Right.  They don’t care,” Mariana manages, blinking tears back.

 

“I don’t believe them, Mariana.  I believe you,” Levi repeats for a good measure.

 

“Callie...I’m not gonna be able to ask her anymore.  She only stayed...like one more day…”

 

“Mariana, no matter if you can confirm what’s happening with Callie...or not...I’m always gonna give you the benefit of the doubt in these entries.”

 

“But I don’t...have anybody else who was there…”

 

“And you don’t wanna ask Jesus?  What if you asked him without talking about the website?  I mean, he was there a lot, right?

 

“Right,” Mariana nods.  “Could you help? I mean...I do a lot of screencaps with C and if I do that with Jesus...he’s gonna know…”

 

“Yeah.  Yeah, I’ll definitely help.  Hey, you wanna take a little break?  Eat something?”

 

“We barely started,” Mariana objects.

 

“Yeah, but we have all day.  We don’t have to be over at Michael and Jaimie’s until like 5:00. Let’s take our time.”

 

“Alright,” Mariana agrees.  She takes out her giant thermos of coffee and snacks.  Pushes it toward him, with raised eyebrows.

 

“Oh.  Are we sharing?” he asks.

 

“I’m not eating all this,” Mariana laughs a little.

 

“Well, then, I’m glad to help out,” Levi smiles, too.  

 

Mariana shuts her laptop.


	89. New Beginning

**_Mariana - Saturday, March 7, 2020 - Night:_ **

 

_ Nothing. _

 

_ Half sounds - not-words - click and hiss. The air stopping cracks my ears. Can’t stop the earworms from decomposing me. I’m invasioned. _

 

_ Rancid gagging coffee cloud vapors swallow me.   _

 

_ Light defiles me. _

 

_ A soft thing. Moving. When I can’t. I can’t move. Why can’t I? What is it? _

 

_ Don’t look - the light radishes…rammages...ravages. _

 

_ “Why...” Pushing the thing. _

 

_ “Why what, honey?” Step. _

 

_ “Rat…” It better not be. _

 

_ “A rat?” Step laughs - gunshots. _

 

_ I moan.  _

 

_ Nothing. _

 

_ The rat is gone. _

 

_ My half-tongue is growing. Clifford broke the house. The big red half-tongue.  _

 

_ “Mouth…” I manage.  _

 

_ People do things.  _

 

_ Nothing. _

 

_ Earworms are back. Insisting. Pulling.  _

 

_ I sit up. Crinkling. Moaning. Waves roll. Don’t look. _

 

_ The worms crawl in.  _

 

_ The worms crawl out. _

 

_ The storm throws me, rocking. _

 

_ Leave me leave me leave me leave me. _

 

_ They put me back, doll-like.  Earworms praise. _

 

_ I sink. Crinkling. My skin crawls in. My skin crawls out.  _

 

**_LovingLink - Saturday, March 7, 2020 - 9:13 PM_ **

_ Tonight, things were pretty interesting.  Jesus brought Mari her childhood blanket and Mariana asked: “Why is there a rat in my bed?”  So, Mom moved the “rat”, haha. _

 

\--

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Can I ask you ?s about the accident and can you not ask any back? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Sure.   _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ You brought Night-Night? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Of course.  Figured you’d want it. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Did I? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Think it kinda freaked you out. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Why? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Maybe your texture thing?  How some things feel nasty now?  Took you a while to come around to it again. _

 

Mariana thinks about this.  How even now, she only holds her blanket in her right hand.  It makes sense. But of course, Brandon would make her sound ridiculous.

 

“I hate that it’s B writing again.  I mean, I hate when any of them write.  But for some reason...I really hate it when he does…” Mariana admits.

 

“They keep laughing at you…” Levi points out, eyes dark.  “Like, he and Stef think it’s so funny you’re in distress…”

 

Mariana shrugs.  “Whatever. It’s better that way.”

 

“Why?” Levi asks.

 

“Because...at least they’re happy…” Mariana raises her eyebrows.  “So, you know…”

 

“They’re not extra angry…” Levi realizes.  “That makes sense. I still wish they wouldn’t laugh at you, though.”

 

Mariana nods at the screen.

 

Levi keeps reading.

 

\--

 

_ In less fun news, she had a big reaction to the morphine she’s on for pain.  After some scary swelling of the face, the docs replaced that. _

 

\--

 

“Yikes,” Levi says.  “Glad he’s at least concerned here…”

 

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have to share it.  God knows how many people I know read this…” Mariana scoffs.

 

“Ooh.  You’re right.  Sorry,” Levi apologizes.

 

\--

 

_ To finish out the day, they had Mariana practice sitting on the edge of her bed.  She’s pretty dizzy and was exhausted by the minute or two she was up. _

 

_ We’re glad for the exhaustion because at least she’s not screaming or telling us to shut up.   _

 

_ (Sorry, Mariana, just keeping it real…) _

 

_ Brandon _

 

_ \-- _

 

“Maybe if you actually shut up, Brandon, Mari wouldn’t have to exhaust herself by screaming at you…” Levi considers.  “Seriously, do they not get how to act in a hospital?”

 

“I don’t remember…” Mariana admits.  “I don’t remember anything yet.”

 

“That’s okay.  I didn’t mean…” Levi hesitates.

 

“It’s fine,” Mariana waves off his concern.  She scowls. “But yeah, so glad my exhaustion was convenient for him…”

 

“Right?” Levi asks.  “So rude.”

 

\--

 

**_Mariana - Sunday, March 8, 2020 - Morning:_ **

 

_ Still here. It’s morning? Woman gives me a lollipop thing with a wet poof on it. Sweet - fake yellow-oranges. Not to eat. Weird diet. _

 

_ Out moving - they need scans. I need a cave. I’m ferried blindingly. The bed moves. I move. Brain lurches, sloppy. Still so drunk. Nothing helps. I veer, not seeing. Try to Nothing. Too many things. _

 

_ Scans are metal clangs. Can’t be drunk - rabbit heart - crying - stay still stay still stay still.  _

 

_ Shit.  _

 

_ What the fuck happened? _

 

_ Moving again. Rabbit comes too.  _

 

_ New place. And shitty-brighter. Stef waits. B waits.  _

 

_ “...’Sus?” A croak. _

 

_ “Well, it’s nice to see you too, Miss Thang. Jesus will be by later.” _

 

_ Crap.  _

 

_ Food comes. Stef says she’ll help. She opens juice. I try to drink not-spillingly. Pick apart a muffin just me. Taste is strong and tainted - anti-yum. Mouth is still novocained. Still half-tongued.  _

 

_ Double earworming. Oh my God. I have no gate in my head for this. Flood me. Megaphone on blast.  Fuck me.  _

 

_ “Shut up.”  _

 

_ I’m shot again. Whisper-snicker-laughs snake through. “We’re trying to be quiet, honey. We’re sorry.” _

 

**_Try fucking harder._ **

 

_ “Excuse me, young lady! That is not okay. Just calm down.” _

 

_ Oops. (But not. Because they leave!)  _

 

_ Nothing. _

 

_ They’re back. With someone. Two someones. One moves me to a chair. Waves crest. On a ship. In a bottle.  _

 

_ I lurch compensatingly. Because of the brain water. Stef smiles.  _

 

_ One someone leaves. _

 

_ One stays. For assessing. I will my tingly heavy messy sloshy body straighter. _

 

_ “Repeat the sounds I say…Watch my mouth…” _

 

_ Watch. _

 

_ “Ah.”  / (Seriously?) “Ah.” _

 

_ “Ae.” / “Ae.” _

 

_ “Ay.” / “Ay.” _

 

_ “Ee.” / “Ee.” _

 

_ “Oh.” / “Oh.” _

 

_ “Ooh” / “Ooh.” _

 

_ Sound. Micropause. Response. Sound. Micropause. Response. She volleys vowels they batter me I try to  _

 

_ -Sit. (Not slide.) _

 

_ -Keep feet staying. (Not half-lost and nowhere.) _

 

_ -Hold onto chair handle. One-handed. (One sits dead and curled on my lap. Why? I try not to care. Focus. Try.) _

 

_ -Hold my thousand-pound head up. _

 

_ -Mind the waves.  _

 

_ -Look. (At Woman. Stef. B. Windows pouring light through cracks. Light encroaching from hallway. Monitors. Bed-with-rails. Table on wheels. Unreachable TV - talk show on and muted.) _

 

_ -Listen hard. (Feel the filthy brain gears struggle through sludge.) _

 

_ -Will brain to weave through alien pathways (micropause).  _

 

_ -Will brain-mouth connection not to get lost. _

 

_ -Actually say the damn thing. _

 

_ “Good! Now! Watch my mouth, and repeat after me...” Finger points at lips. “Buh buh buh.” / “Buh buh buh.” _

 

_ Shit. Shit shit shit. _

 

_ “Puh puh puh” / “P--” _

 

_ It’s not shit.  _

 

_ It’s the wave that destroyed the island. Every slosh and drip and piece of brain water - now somehow all over the Woman.  _

 

_ The wave is there - all over - and yet it’s  _ **_here_ ** _ as I try to flatten it close it stop it. But  _ it _ smashes  _ me _. Try to Nothing. Try.  _

 

_ Bed. Not mine. Never mine. _

 

_ Nothing. _

 

**LovingLink - Sunday, March 8, 2020 - 12:32 PM**

_ Down in the cafeteria getting some food.   _

 

_ So updates: _

 

_ Mariana’s being moved to step-down, as they call it here.  So, not-ICU, but not quite a regular room? I’m fuzzy on the specifics.  Anyway, she’s getting relocated, and it’s a good thing, because it means they don’t think she needs to be watched as closely. _

 

\--

 

“Ugh...it’s B again…” Mariana moans.  

 

“Sorry,” Levi winces.  “You got moved to another room, though.  That’s good.”

 

“Like I’d know!” Mariana retorts, really just done with B and all of this.

 

There’s no sound.  She focuses on Levi next to her.  He’s quiet. Lips pressed together.

 

“Hey.  Sorry,” Mariana apologizes.  “I just hate that this thing is like...published in the world.  It’s not you.”

 

“Seems like me,” Levi ventures, quiet.

 

“It’s just…”  Mariana pauses.  Tries to collect all the words she’ll need, but knows it’s a crapshoot if they’ll make it out of her mouth.  “Like...I can’t...be mad. We don’t talk about it. And I can’t be mad.”

 

“You can’t be mad?” Levi asks.

 

“No,” Mariana shakes her head.

 

“Because…” Levi prompts, confused.

 

“They blame everything on the fucking TBI…” Mariana seethes.  “Not on them being dicks…”

 

“So, they don’t take responsibility for their part?” Levi says, putting the pieces together.  “And they don’t even talk about it to you?”

 

“No!” Mariana exclaims.  “But they talk to this! Or, you know…whatever!”

 

“So, they never talk to you about it, but they have no qualms telling whoever reads this every single step of your process…  It’s like they didn’t even give a thought like…  _ ‘Hey, Mariana might see this one day _ …’”

 

Mariana points to Levi, nodding.  “That! They just figured I’d be...never knowing and they’d never have to say anything.  But why does everybody else get to know and not me? Why do they...get this trash statement by  _ them _ ?  Nothing’s right, Levi…”

 

“I know,” he nods.  “So, even the stuff that’s accurate still stings.”

 

Mariana nods.

 

She looks at him.  He still seems...off.

 

“You wanna keep going?” he asks.

 

“Wait.  Are you...okay?” Mariana presses.

 

“Yeah,” he nods, but his voice sounds like wind.  He’s busy not-looking at her. Too still.

 

She’s so confused.  Until she bumps against him accidentally, trying to get her phone.  And he flinches.

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ OK? _

 

When Levi’s phone chimes with her text Mariana watches him move slowly for it.  Take it out. Read it.

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ A little triggered.  Fine, tho. You didn’t mean to. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Not fine.  I’m sorry. I never wanna trigger you. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ I just...kinda freeze up...when women are mad sometimes. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Really sorry.  I didn’t mean to scare you. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ And I don’t mean to make your valid madness about me. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ But it is valid.  It is a trigger. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ But I don’t wanna be one more person who makes you feel like you can’t be mad.  Because it’s not that. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_??? _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ It’s more specific.  Like, when women snap at me?  Get impatient? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Did I? _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ I said it’s good you got moved to another room.  You said ‘Like I’d know’ like you hated what I said. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ I hated that B wrote it.  I don’t hate stuff you say. _

 

“Seriously?” Levi asks, relaxing a little.

 

“Seriously,” Mariana echoes, nodding.  “I  _ am _ sorry.  Need a break?”

 

“Kinda?” Levi admits.  “I really miss Panther…”

 

“Is she being good at your mom’s?” Mariana asks.

 

“I think?  Mom says she just keeps following her around.  I think she’s lonely?”

 

“Your mom or Panther?” Mari wonders.

 

“Well...maybe both?” Levi admits.  “But we think Panther…” He pauses.  “You ever have pets?”

 

“I think Mom had a cat before she had Brandon?  But no. Otherwise no,” Mariana shakes her head.

 

“I love dogs.  Big dogs, especially.  Mom had this Great Dane, Vader.  Almost could’ve been Panther’s twin, right?  And then we got this other big dog, Hagrid.”

 

Mariana giggles.  “You guys pick the best names.”

 

“It’s all Mom.  She’s such a nerd.  She had Vader when she met Dad.” Levi confides.

 

“Aw, really?” Mariana smiles.  And it feels so much better to be talking about dogs than it does to be rolling around in the misery that B writes.

 

“Taught me my first word…” Levi grins.

 

“What?  The dog?” Mariana’s confused.

 

“Yeah.  I barked.  It was all-purpose.  If I wanted a treat. Or to play.  Or attention. You know, whatever.”

 

“You remember a lot,” Mariana remarks impressed.

 

“No, that’s my parents.  “Dad documented practically every minute of my life.  So, there’s definitely video of me running around barking for a hot second.”

 

“Weren’t your parents, like, concerned?” Mariana wonders.

 

“Oh, Dad thought it was hilarious.  Mom was more intense about teaching me real words.  My second word was  _ puppy, _ by the way.”

 

“Of course,” Mariana nods.

 

“Jesus’s first word was my name,” Mari confides.  “Frankie’s, too.”

 

“Mariana’s kind of a mouthful for a baby,” Levi remarks.  

 

“Yeah, but they both figured it out.  And I knew what they meant.”

 

“Know what yours was?” he asks.

 

“Brother,” Mariana passes along.  “Ana was always pissed neither of us said ‘ _ Mama _ ’ first.  Speaking of brothers,” Mariana casts a dubious look at the screen.  “Should we? Are you okay?”

 

Levi nods.  “Yeah, that helped.  Thanks.”

 

\--

 

_ Otherwise...a speech therapist came in to assess Mariana a little bit ago.  She was up in a chair, and did seem more receptive to this particular therapist than the person who questioned her yesterday.  _

 

_ (Or so I thought...she repeated a couple of sounds on command and then...well...it was like The Exorcist.  I won’t go into the gory details because Moms would kill me.) She got cleaned up and then I guess the therapist came back and finished assessing?  Honestly, I don’t know. I vacated when the vomit started… _

 

\--

 

“So glad B can manage to hold back gory details for Moms…” Mariana remarks, bitter.

 

“And if that’s his definition of holding back?  He’s not doing a very good job,” Levi winces. “You okay?”

 

“Dizzy,” Mariana comments.

 

“You’re dizzy?” Levi asks, concerned.

 

“No.  Before.  In there,” she gestures to the screen.  “I don’t remember that specific day, but I remember being dizzy as hell.”

 

“So, it’s no wonder you were sick,” Levi’s sympathetic.  “Sorry Brandon told everybody. How embarrassing.”

 

“Yeah, well, at least I don’t remember it,” Mariana waves off Levi’s concern.  If she lets everything get to her she’s never going to be able to get to the end of this.

 

She motions for him to keep going.

 

\--

 

_ Anyway, we’ll see how Mariana copes with the change of scenery. _

 

\--

 

“Wait.  Where am I going?” Mariana asks, concerned.

 

“New room,” Levi reminds.

 

“Oh, right,” Mariana nods.

 

\--

 

_ I read some of the comments and saw some of you had questions, so I’ll give Mama a heads up and maybe she’ll wanna come and address those. _

 

_ Later, _

_ Brandon _

 

\--

 

“Oh my God.  Levi, they have  _ questions _ ,” Mariana insists, horrified.

 

“I know.  I don’t even wanna know what they are.  Seriously. Gross,” Levi shakes his head.  “But I bet they’re gonna be there.”

 

Mariana thrusts her hand out.  Covers the screen. “No.”

 

“No, I wasn’t going to,” Levi reassures.

 

Mariana closes it for a good measure.  She’s not ready for this. Not ready for Moms and B to take questions like Mariana’s life is a circus.  LovingLink, what a fucking joke. This site is a chain around her. Holding her.  

 

_ (Everybody come. _

 

_ See - but don’t. _

 

_ Ask for the gory details. _

 

_ Ask what I can’t ask.  What they never answer.  They are entitled to share me.  Use me. For pity. Sympathy. _

 

_ Curtain’s up.  Admission’s free. _

 

_ Unless you’re me. _

 

_ Then you work and break yourself and make yourself like them.  No information. Nothing to help you. _

 

_ “That’s not the real world.” _

 

_ Smile fakely. _

 

_ Places, please.) _

 

“They’re gonna whore me out…” Mariana comments, empty.

 

Levi looks surprised.  Then, like he’s thinking.  Then, Mariana’s pretty sure he’s Googling.  Then, finally, he nods. “Exploit you. Yeah.  This whole thing kinda feels like that.”

 

It makes Mariana think of pictures.  She can see clearly a link at the top of the page that’s meant for them.  But she hasn’t gotten up the courage to click there yet, and Levi realizes he’s just translating for her, basically.  That this is not a free-for-all for him to just access whatever info he wants.

 

At least someone gets that.

 

There is one picture at the top of the page.  Mariana, dressed up. Like she’s ready to go somewhere.  Like any of a thousand pics that already exist, except her hair, which looks like someone gave her a buzz cut that’s just starting to grow out. (A sleek cap which everyone insisted was “in style” and “so cute.”) Her face is still bruisy.  Her smile is asymmetrical. One hand rests unnaturally in her lap.

 

It might be the very first picture, where Mariana is trying to pass.  She remembers it, vaguely. Right around when she came home. Before. Sit on the bed and smile.

 

The damn bed.  She hated the damn bed.

 

But everyone who saw her that day thought she looked so great.

 

(“Almost normal!”

 

“You can’t even tell!”)

 

Her heart aches looking at that picture.  She doesn’t want to know how many more there are.


	90. All Day

**_Mariana - Sunday, March 8, 2020 - Questions_ **

 

**_Am I talking?_ **

_ Yes? _

 

**_Do I know my family?_ **

_ What the fuck? _

 

**_Other Injuries?_ **

_ Head. Body missing half. _

 

**_How am I coping?_ **

_ Nothing a lot. Pics. Jesus. _

 

**_Will I be normal again?_ **

_ Will I? _

 

\--

 

“This looks like a Lena one,” Levi warns.

 

Mariana braces herself.  

 

Based on entries, Lena hasn’t been around much.  Probably home with Fran. Someone had to be.  

 

Still.

 

The idea of someone with even less information than Stef and B had doing updating has Mariana tense and waiting.

 

\--

 

**_LovingLink - Sun, March 8, 2020 - 3:20 PM_ **

 

\--

 

“Callie’s back at school,” Mariana interjects, soft.  

 

“Mm-hmm,” Levi nods.  “How’s that for you?”

 

“No net,” Mariana says, concerned.

 

“What does the net do?” Levi asks, after thinking a few seconds.

 

“Catch me…when I fall off the rope…” Mariana explains, still firmly in the circus state of mind.

 

“Is it...like a tightrope?” Levi guesses.

 

She nods.

 

“So, no safety net,” Levi realizes, sympathetic.  “I’m sorry. I’ll be here to catch you.”

 

Mariana gulps.

 

Nods.

 

\--

 

_ Mariana is now officially moved to step-down.  As she is sleeping at the moment, I thought I’d take the opportunity to address some questions you all left in the comments section: _

 

\--

 

Levi’s pauses aren’t micropauses.  They are long. Soft. Searching.

 

“If you don’t wanna do this right now, we don’t have to,” Levi offers.

 

“You don’t wanna do this?” she asks.

 

“No, I mean…  I mean, I’m okay.  I’m worried about you.  I’m saying I’m not gonna force you.”

 

Nod.

 

“Go slow,” she cautions.

 

“Okay.  I will.” Levi promises.

 

\--

 

**_Is Mariana talking?_ **

_ The short answer is yes, a little.  The speech assessment she had today showed that she will likely need speech therapy in the future.  She can speak, but showed difficulty with names and proper nouns. (So, she might greet you by saying “Hi,” but she might not call you by name while doing so.) _

 

\--

 

“Oh my God...who asked this shit?  And why do they get to know?” Mariana begs.  

 

“Seriously, has she ever heard of HIPAA?” Levi asks.

 

“I know!  Don’t blab my secret chart things…  I hate her…” Mariana insists. “Then they don’t tell me shit, except ‘ _ You need to learn to talk _ .’  And hello?  I know that already.”

 

“Right.  Not the issue.  But maybe if you knew about your aphasia earlier on, it might’ve been easier to cope with.”

 

“Another?” Mariana asks, wincing.

 

\--

 

**_Does she know you and the kids?_ **

_ So far, she has not given any indication of whether or not she knows Stef or I, or cares one way or the other.  Same with Brandon and Jude.   _

 

\--

 

Mariana can feel it building inside while Levi reads the question...and Lena’s answer.  The minute Lena says the thing about Mariana not caring, she’s knocked her coffee travel cup to the grass.

 

“Okay,” Levi says, and he closes the laptop.  “Sorry. That was obviously too much. Wanna walk over and toss the garbage with me?”

 

Mariana nods.  She needs a place for all this pissed-offness.  Doubts walking to the damn garbage will help, but at least it might spare her laptop from being destroyed in the process of trying to deal with Lena’s crap.

 

They walk to the garbage can where Levi tosses wrappers and napkins and Ziploc bags.  Mari’s shaking.  

 

He holds her hand.

 

Leads her over to a bench instead of the table.

 

They sit.

 

Mariana closes her eyes so she can think.  Maybe speak. “Don’t care,” she manages, in the exact voice Moms would accuse her for.  “That’s what they think.”

 

“Lena thought you didn’t care who they were,” Levi remembers.

 

An invisible hand clutches at her throat.  Squeezing her voice out through it so it sounds weak as hell.  “Now.”

 

“They _ still _ think that,” Levi repeats, realization dawning.  “They still think you don’t care.”

 

“But it’s not my damn fault!” Mariana exclaims, tears shining.  “I do.”

 

“I know you do,” Levi reassures gently.  “I don’t believe them, Mariana. I believe  _ you _ .  I know you care.  I know you knew them, even if you couldn’t prove you did.”

 

Mariana expels a breath, hard.

 

“Sorry.  I didn’t…  I mean… I threw the thing but it wasn’t…  I’m not…” Mariana manages, through tears.

 

“I know you’re not mad at me right now,” Levi nods.  “I’m okay.”

 

“Okay,” Mariana echoes, wiping her eyes.  It’s quiet. “I do care…” she says, insisting, even though her voice can only do one thing.  Expression is energy. Work. When she’s already working so damn hard.

 

“I know you do care.  I believe you,” Levi tells her, looking Mariana right in the eyes.  He’s so gentle. And even if he doesn’t get what it’s like. This. For her.  His respect for her doesn’t waver.

 

“Sorry,” she apologizes.  “I just…” she shrugs, not able to articulate how her anger can come on strong.  Fast. Like when she and Jesus were kids and they rolled down big grassy hills.

 

Usually, Moms just make the hill steeper, so she rolls faster.  But Levi reached out before she went too far. Caught her. Just like he promised.

 

“You don’t have to apologize.  I can’t imagine this. I mean…” he trails off, his expression faraway. “I kinda  _ can _ , I guess?  Which is why I wanna be here for you..”

 

Mariana cocks her head.

 

“Back when Carla...did the thing to me.  She took video. After. She sent it to me.  And for years, I was terrified of what she had on me.  Proof of this terrible thing I did.”

 

Mariana remembers what he’s said.  The pieces she knows. How he tracked mud into her house.  How she hurt him for it.

 

“And...it’s not a thing anymore…” Levi reassures her.  “But..if it ever got out? If she’d ever...I don’t know?  Made it public somehow? I feel like it would be kinda impossible to keep all my feelings in check, too.”  He pauses. “I’m saying I don’t expect you to.”

 

“So, it’s not a thing?  Her blackmailing you?” Mariana wonders.

 

“Pearl said she dropped that phone in the lake.  Never got it back. That’s how come I smashed mine.  Back when those other pics of you and Jesus got released,” Levi explains.

 

“Good,” Mariana nods, squeezing his hand.  “So...you’re not...mad or done or something?”

 

“No.  I’m saying I think I get it.  And I’m sorry. And I wanna help,” Levi explains.

 

“But...we could go back?” Mariana asks.  “Do more?”

 

“If you’re ready,” Levi nods.

 

Mariana stands, and together, they head back to Avoidance.

 

\--

 

_ She does seem to recognize Jesus, and she is calmest when he is around.  Their first interaction, Mariana thought Jesus was still kidnapped, so we do wonder where she’s at mentally (how old she thinks she is.)   _

 

\--

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ What did I say to you when I first woke up? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ You said: “He got you…” _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ What did you think? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ That you were worried that I was gone, I guess.  I was just glad you were awake. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ I woke up first and C was there.  Were you? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ No. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ So, you were gone.  Came back. Maybe it was that… _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Maybe, yeah.  Sorry I wasn’t  there. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Did someone tell Moms I thought I was 13? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Not that I know of…  Callie and I might’ve told them what you said and maybe...they might’ve jumped to conclusions.   _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Typical. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ I know you said you didn’t want questions but are you okay?  Thinking about all this? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Levi’s here. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ I don’t get the sudden interest, though… _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Um...it’s my life.  I can have an interest in my life. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Right.  Sorry. I’m here.  If you have anymore questions. _

 

\--

 

_ As is consistent with the SLP’s [Speech Language Pathologist -B] assessment, she has not been able to name Jesus consistently (or herself, at all, come to think of it.)  She also seems responsive to Callie (and calls her “C” if pressed.)  _

 

\--

 

“Yeah, and Stef literally calls Brandon _ B _ but no one calls that a symptom,” Mariana scoffs.

 

“Right.  Then it’s just a nickname,” Levi nods, disapproving.

 

\--

 

_ Ironically, she seems most intent about Frankie, whom she has not seen yet, but she looks at a picture Callie took of Frankie almost obsessively.  It’s taped to Mariana’s bed railing and made sure we were taking it with us. (Frankie is “Baby” right now, and we have not corrected her. We are just glad she’s talking.) _

 

\--

 

“I remember the picture.  I still have it. Taped to the side of the bookcase, so I can see it…” Mariana grins.

 

“Aw, that’s cool,” Levi smiles back.

 

“It is,” Mariana nods.

 

\--

 

**_What other injuries did she sustain (or was it just her head?)_ **

_ Mariana’s TBI (traumatic brain injury) is the most severe of her injuries.  She did also come in with whiplash, and airbag burns to her arms and face, as well as minor cuts and bruising. _

 

\--

 

Mariana winces.  

 

She’d seen the injuries, yeah.  But has never been able to put them into context like this.  Just remembers constantly feeling really little. Trapped.

 

Before she had enough distance from this to dream about it?  She’d dreamed of handcuffs...

 

\--

 

**_How are you and Stef coping?_ **

_ We are taking it a day at a time.  (More like an hour or a minute at a time, some moments.)  It is beyond difficult to be where we are but we are so thankful for all of you for supporting us and our family during this trying time. _

 

\--

 

“Don’t they get what it does to you by saying this?” Levi asks.

 

“ _ I’m _ beyond difficult,” Mariana fills in.  “Which, I know.”

 

“You’re not…” Levi objects.  

 

“You’re, like, the only one who thinks that…” Mariana manages.

 

\--

 

**_Will Mariana be normal again?_ **

_ That’s hard to say.  We definitely hope so.  The window of time for the fastest improvements is the first six months, so by September, we should have a better idea.  Six months to two years is where the most improvements can be seen, but people can improve beyond that timeframe as well.  Right now, we are simply taking it day by day, and we are happy Mariana’s awake and speaking. With therapy, she should be able to make significant progress.  So, we’re hopeful. _

 

_ Lena Adams Foster _

 

\--

 

“What the hell?” Levi exclaims softly.  “I hate that timeframe.”

 

“I’m still in it.  It’s like...pressure,” Mariana sighs.

 

“Right, no wonder.”

 

“And, like…  They ask how Moms are coping?  But about me being normal…” Mariana’s eyes darken.

 

“Yeah, it’s obvious where the concern lies.  Which, I’m not saying parents don’t need support, too, they obviously do, but so do you.  And it’s like...that got completely overlooked. I wonder how  _ you _ were coping…” Levi muses.

 

“Jesus, probably,” Mariana guesses.  “I mean...that’s how we always coped.”

 

“It’s good you have each other,” Levi nods.

 

_ \-- _

 

**_Mariana - Monday, March 9, 2020 - Afternoon_ **

 

_ They never leave. I don’t care. After the brain water drains, I go too. In the tubes. Dark. Soft. Everything is off. Thank God. _

 

_... _

 

_ Still here. Them. Stef needs coffee. I tell her no. (She needs to drink it across away far.)  _

 

_ B sits. Types. Won’t show what. But he knows. I see his pity eyes. _

 

_ I key into him. _

 

_ Tell me.  What. Why.  _

 

_ “...Move?” (All the stuff gone from the word. And  _ only _ one word? But still.) There. Tell me. _

 

_ Standing now - no don’t. One sidewalk. To the door. (There is one!) “Here?”  _

 

_ “No.” (Why. Can’t. I. Move.) “Pa-nini.” Shit. Okay.  _

 

_ He’s lost. “You want a... _ panini _?” _

 

_ “No.” God, B. Help some. Curtain’s down. Find the pieces. “Why...am I?” Okay. Around. Good. _

 

_ “Why are you a panini?” Eyes menace gunshots. Don’t don’t don’t good. “I give up. Why are you a panini?”  _

 

_ Heart cracks, falls. Damn it. It’s not fucking funny tell me. “Go fuck off. Fuckboy.” Too sad to be joy.  _

 

_ “Okay. You don’t have to tell me twice.”  _

 

_ Good shut up. He goes. No one now. My heart rabbits. Head beats pounds. I drain with my eyes.  _

 

_ Nothing - good. Please. _

 

**LovingLink - Mon, March 9, 2020 - 1:21 PM**

_ So...not exactly a party in step-down. _

 

_ Mariana’s sleeping a ton, which, I guess is good?  Sleep heals the brain and all that. In the few minutes she was not sleeping, we had our first real conversation since she was home on winter break a couple months back. _

 

_ Her:  Move. _

 

_ Me: [Stepping to the side awkwardly]  Here? _

 

_ Her:  No. Panini. _

 

_ Me:  You want a panini? _

 

_ Her:  No. Why am I. _

 

_ Me: Why are you a panini?  Um...I give up. Why are you a panini? _

 

_ Her: *@*% !@#% _

 

_ As you can see, we didn’t make much progress.  Mom made less sense of it than I did. Mariana fell asleep soon after that, so we never did solve the panini mystery.   _

 

_ It was good for a laugh, though. _

 

_ Brandon _

 

\--

 

“He’s such an ass…” Levi seethes.  

 

“I don’t know what  _ panini  _ means…” Mariana admits.  It’s stark. Empty.  

 

(How can she expect B to understand her then, when she doesn’t even understand herself?)

 

Too embarrassed to even try to text Jesus about this.  

 

Brandon laughing at her is too close to the surface.  

 

What if Jesus laughs?

 

Levi hasn’t...yet.  But Mari knows, he’s the exception, not the rule.  Everyone in her damn life acts like her speech is a joke.  

 

Why should now be any different?


	91. Shooting Star

**_Mariana - Monday, March 9, 2020 - Evening_ **

 

_ Jesus. We see. His eyes are heavy. We miss. We hold.  _

 

_ “Hey.” He waits. _

 

_ “Je-sus.” Hait the jail bed. _

 

_ “How are you?” He waits. _

 

_ “Mm...I...you.” (I. Miss. You.) _

 

_ “Yeah? I missed you. Sorry I wasn’t here earlier.” He presses me. _

 

_ “No…” (Don’t be.) “I’m cold-heavy-light.” I chill-ver implore him. _

 

_ “You are?” He waits. _

 

_ “Head feels.” _

 

_ “Your head feels cold-heavy-light?”  _

 

_ “Mm.” (Yes.) “Something.” _

 

_ “Something?” He waits. _

 

_ I hold not-dead hand to palm-read up close. Nod - air colds me - brain water sloshes. Honey-don’t list. _

 

_ “You want a mirror?” I love him. _

 

_ “Mm.” Curtains down. Nothing. _

 

_ … _

 

_ It’s later. I’m sloshier. Bloatier. Sick. _

 

_ Jesus, still here. Sees me. Still holds me.  _

 

_ “I found a mirror. If you want to see?” He waits. _

 

_ I clasp - grasp - can’t. _

 

_ “I can help you?” He waits. _

 

_ I look. He sees. _

 

_ “Okay. Ready?” _

 

_ “Mm.” Jesus holds my wrong head and I look. I’m bald. Purple. Blood eyes. With a line of tiny metals. Rabbit takes off. I don’t see. “...’Kay.” _

 

_ “Okay?” He moves it.  _

 

_ The drain pulls me, sucking.  _

 

_ Nothing. _

 

_ … _

 

_ In the pipes. Flat past the floor. And I’m butter-making. Balloon floating rolling. (Still can’t move why?  Try… Crinkle salvo no no no) Not surface reaching.  _

 

_ Pleading. “Mmmmm…” _

 

_ Brimful. Loosing. Breaking. Something. Oh something. Something. _

 

_ Shitty filthy brain-gear sludge now expellsioned.  _

 

Error Code-- 

 

_ Rabbit. _

 

_ Shut up shut up - _

 

_ Too late. Step-f. “Hey, hey, hey… What’s going on, huh? What’s wrong? What is it?” _

 

_ Well. What is it? The rabbit trips. _

 

_ “I...shit…”  _

 

_ She stops. “Oh.”  _

 

_ Yeah. Oh.  _

 

_ My curtains fall. Please. _

 

_ “Well, that’s okay. We can clean it up in no time, right?” Too fake. Too loudly edged.  _

 

_ But she leaves.  _

 

_ … _

 

_ Crinkle. Person rolls me. _

 

_ … _

 

_ Surface. Wet. Soft. She laundries me. Heart pieces throb me. I snake in the quiet under. _

 

_ … _

 

_ Chair. How? I can’t - _

 

_ … _

 

_ Back to jail bed crinkles.  _

 

_ Delete me. _

 

_ I sink. _

 

_ Nothing. _

 

**_LovingLink - Mon, March 9, 2020 - 10:33 PM_ **

_ As I have the night shift and nothing to do, Lena and B have tasked me with updating the website. _

 

\--

 

“Wait.” Mariana insists.  “Stef? No. No, no, no…” she shakes her head, feeling dizzy.

 

She’s been wrong.

 

The dread unfolding in her gut lets Mari know that Brandon is not the worst person to update this.  Not Lena, either. She’s barely there.

 

It’s Stef.  (Who’s afraid Mari will be noticeably brain-injured...when, hello, she is…)

 

“Okay,” Levi says, trying to convey calm.  He closes the laptop for a good measure. “There’s no rush.”  He speaks softer now. “The idea of it being Stef scares me, too.”

 

“It does?” Mari asks, incredulous.

 

“She’s the one who admired Pearl’s mom.  Who wanted to be like her. And I guess… I guess in some ways...she got her wish…”

 

“That’s gross,” Mariana wrinkles her nose.

 

“I know,” Levi nods.  “Sorry.”

 

“No…” Mariana searches for his hand.  Stops. Raises her eyebrows, locking her eyes with his.

 

He sees her hand, stopped, inches away.  Turns his own, palm-up, offering. Expression mimicking but not mocking.

 

Her hand finds his.  Their fingers fit like puzzle pieces.  Each with a home.

 

“No, it’s good,” Mariana manages.  “Not that...I mean..”

 

“I know,” Levi reassures.  “I know what you mean. It’s not good that Stef turned out like her, but it’s good I know how you feel?”

 

Mariana nods.  Unthreads their hands to open the laptop.

 

\--

 

_ The worst part of today was seeing Mariana’s head unwrapped for the first time.  _

 

\--

 

Mariana’s stomach seizes.  She squeezes her eyes shut. Her breath in is sharp.  Sudden.

 

“Okay,” Levi answers, soft.  “Breathe, please. Can you?”

 

Mariana still can’t open her eyes.  Terrified of what will be on the screen if she does.  She doesn’t know if she’s breathing. But she hears the click of her laptop closing and peeks at Levi.

 

“No evidence,” she rasps.

 

Levi cocks his head.

 

“No negatives, Levi, please…”

 

Seconds drip by like molasses.  Hanging. Aching. Dragging. He cocks his head.  Desperate, Mariana picks up her phone, and goes to her photo gallery.  Shows him the hundreds of images on the screen.

 

His mouth drops open.

 

“I’m sorry...I don’t…”

 

_ (Where the hell is the word?)   _

 

Mariana backs out of the gallery and to her home screen.  Leaning close, she studies the camera icon. Gestures to it.

 

“Camera…” Levi offers and Mariana gets the feeling that they are playing the longest game of charades ever.

 

“I don’t want a that,” Mariana gestures to the icon, “of my this,” to her own head.

 

“Oh.  You’re worried they took a picture of your head when it was unwrapped?” Levi asks.  “You want me to check?”

 

“If you want,” Mariana manages, her voice high.  She turns away.

 

“Okay.  No. No picture.  But it looks like she describes it…” Levi adds apologetic.

 

Mariana takes a steadying breath and nods for him to continue.  She can take a verbal description, just not a picture, when she’s not expecting one.

 

\--

 

_ She has a long, angry red scar along the right side of her head.  It’s held together with probably 20 staples. I have no idea how to attach pictures here and Callie is boycotting the site and staking her claim on the moral high ground, so you’ll have to use your imagination.  Actually, that is probably better. Her wound is pretty gruesome. _

 

\--

 

“Aw, I love her,” Mariana says and Levi looks confused.  “Staking her claim on the moral high ground.”

 

“Yeah, thank God she and Jesus were looking out for you,” Levi agrees.

 

Mariana screenshots the paragraph and sends it to Callie:

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ OMG TY so much for not [camera emoji] my scar. _

 

**_Callie:_ **

_ When she asked me to do this?  Sent me the pic to attach? I got physically ill.  I thought about what I’d done to Jesus (1,000% wrong) and asked myself how this was any different?  Asked her. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ And? _

 

**_Callie:_ **

_ She said it was in your best interest because updating people from a distance meant they weren’t coming to overwhelm you in person…  Anyway, I just said no, straight out. She was mad at me but I didn’t care. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Do you still have the pic? _

 

**_Callie:_ **

_ Yes.  Didn’t share with anyone.  I promise. Do you want it? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Not right now.  Keep it, though? _

 

**_Callie:_ **

_ Kept. [heart emoji] _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ I was sure our girl Miss Thang would have a major reaction to seeing her entire head shaved.  She’s certainly carried on louder and longer for less, so I tried to discourage nurses or anyone from bringing her a mirror, but Jesus insisted, so… _

 

\--

 

“I love Jesus,” Mariana manages.

 

“I’m saying.  Glad you had a couple sibs in your corner through this,” Levi nods.  “What’s up with Stef trying to discourage you from having any actual info about your injuries?”

 

“She’d claim concern, maybe…” Mariana guesses.  “I don’t know. I mean, she said she was worried I’d have some kinda major reaction, so..”

 

“Right,” Levi nods, skeptical.

 

\--

 

_ She just looked.  Didn’t seem bothered at all.  I miss her. God, I miss my girl.  What I wouldn’t give for a loud, dramatic Mariana moment about this. _

 

\--

 

Mariana feels her insides sinking.  Down, down, down. Sucked into a giant drain.

 

“She…” Mariana trails off, not even knowing where to begin.  “This…”

 

“So...she wanted you to have a major reaction?  Why would she want you to be in distress?” Levi wonders, his eyes flashing with rare temper.  “That’s just mean.”

 

“But it’s proof.  I’m still me. Before-Me,” Mariana tries to explain.  “She doesn’t think I’m me now.”

 

“So she misses you.  She misses that you. Like you were saying earlier?  Like everybody wants you to get back to that ideal, and you can’t.  Because it changed you?”

 

Mariana nods.

 

Levi shakes his head.  “That’s messed up. You were literally right there in front of her.  She should be glad you’re there. Loving you. Not wishing for you to show distress just so she can feel better about herself…  Are you ready for more? Looks like this gets pretty...uh-oh.”

 

“ _ Uh-oh _ ?” Mariana echoes, incredulous.  “Levi, you can’t just say  _ uh-oh _ and leave it.  What happened?”

 

\--

 

_ Scratch that.   _

 

_ The worst part of today happened later...read on...but be warned I am not sugar-coating what I’m about to write.  I want people to understand the full scope of what we are dealing with… _

 

\--

 

Levi pauses again, for a good measure.  “I’m so pissed at her for this… It’s not about her!  And she doesn’t want people to understand she wants their sympathy.  At your expense.”

 

He’s ranting.  Levi doesn’t rant.  It’s making her nervous.

 

“Hey,” Mariana reminds.  “You promised. Everything.”

 

“I know...I’m just...giving you time…” Levi hedges.

 

“God, Levi, I don’t need you to babysit me here.  It’s been over a year. Just tell me. Can I trust you?  Or should I read it myself?”

 

“I will.  I know, okay, just…  It’s bad.  _  It’s _ not bad, but them sharing it.  It’s bad,” Levi clarifies.

 

Mariana gestures - like  _ go on _ , and he does.

 

Soon, though, she’s wishing he hadn’t.

 

\--

 

_ The other incident happened tonight.  Nurses have been insisting that Mariana be “regular” so they gave her something, not realizing that Mariana cannot be bothered to even alert any of us to her basic bodily needs. _

 

_ Luckily, a nurse took care of cleaning her up. _

 

\--

 

Mariana’s face is flaming.  

 

She can’t even look at Levi now.

 

He’s quiet.

 

And Mariana can’t stop thinking about Callie’s words.  About how Stef insisted that family and friends be able to get updates without overwhelming Mariana in person.  But all of them knowing this?

 

Mariana feels like disappearing.

 

She is so beyond humiliated.

 

Unsteadily, she stands.  Walks across the grass to the bench again and sits alone.  

 

(So fitting.  Near the trash and everything.  It’s just how she feels. Like the trashiest trash.  Dirty. Awful. No words bad enough for this.)

 

Levi’s not coming.  He’s grossed out. Good.  Fine. Whatever.

 

She blinks, and he’s standing next to the bench.  Mariana wonders what’s next. Will he yell? Tell her she’s disgusting?  Leave her? What? ( _ Come on.  Just get it over with…) _

 

Levi sits on the other end of the bench, room for a third person between them.

 

“So...after she hurt me...I had this...bad nightmare.  Like, easily the worst I’d ever had in my life. I woke up, and I was crying.  And...wet… And I was eight. I never did anything like that, you know? And I was so humiliated.”

 

Mariana risks a look at him.

 

“I don’t remember much.  Just like, that I woke up like that.  And then, like, I’m at the doorway to the bathroom, and Mom’s there, turning on the lights for me to come in and I just…” Levi trails off.  “It was like...my legs couldn’t hold me up… I just fell. And I couldn’t stop crying. I was embarrassed. And itchy. And just...like...I kept thinking, like…   _ Is this what Moms do when kids make messes _ ?   _ Is my mom gonna do what she did?” _

 

Mariana scoots down the bench an inch.  Toward him. Stops.

 

“And then Dad was there, and he picks me up and I was so...just like...God.  He’s the most dignified guy, right? And here he was holding his kid, probably almost nine years old, covered in pee?  I felt like the worst ever...and to be honest? I didn’t really want him holding me. And I know it’s not the same, Mari.  I’m just saying. I kinda get the level of embarrassment. And I don’t blame you.”

 

An inch closer.  Their fingers are almost touching.

 

“You don’t?” Mariana manages, her voice strange and tight.

 

“No.  Of course, I don’t.  You were days out of a horrible car wreck.  I get it. I blame them for writing about it.  Not you.”

 

A little closer.  Now, finally, they’re side by side.

 

They stay like that a while.

 

“I keep waiting…” Mariana offers.

 

“Waiting?” Levi asks.

 

“For you to, like…” Mariana shrugs.  Gestures. Levi doesn’t rush to fill the silence, so she can.  “Make fun of me, I guess… First the panini thing...now this…”

 

“All that  _ makes sense _ ,” Levi insists.  “All that  _ meant something _ .  Why would I make fun of you for asking a question or being beyond exhausted?”

 

“I guess, when you put it like that…” Mariana sighs.  “I’m just… They really don’t care. And I worry that it’ll like...bleach…”

 

“They don’t care, and you’re worried that it will…” Levi repeats.

 

“When you wash clothes.  If there’s bleach. Sometimes, it can...stain the other clothes.”

 

“So, you’re worried about their trash attitudes seeping into me?” Levi asks.  “It won’t. All it does is convince me.”

 

“Of what?” Mariana asks, cringing.

 

“That they don’t deserve you,” Levi says firmly.

 

\--

 

It takes them a while to get back to the table, but Levi insists they have time.

 

He just sits with her for as long as Mariana needs before she finally takes a deep breath and heads back to the table.  

 

They’re holding hands.

 

Mariana doesn’t let go as they start to read again.

 

\--

 

_ It’s moments like that, though, everyone, that make me question if I can do this.  Are we going to be able to cope with our 21-year-old daughter having accidents? She and her brother were largely toilet trained when they came.  Lena and I never had to go through this stage with them. _

 

_ I have no desire to go through it now. _

 

_ I’m going to try and get some sleep. _

 

_ \- Stef Adams Foster _

 

\--

 

“God, it makes it sound like Brandon and Fran potty-trained  _ themselves _ ,” Mariana scoffs.

 

Levi snorts.  “Like, yeah. Sorry you don’t want to help your kid through a valid developmental stage or an injury, but you’re parents.”

 

There’s silence.  Then:

 

“I can’t read the comments, Levi.” Mariana says, her head swimming at the number at the bottom of the entry.

 

“We don’t have to,” he reassures.

 

“Or look at the pictures.  If there are any pictures. Warn me,” Mariana insists.

 

“I will, I promise.”

 

Mariana blows out a breath.  It’s relief. And it isn’t. Because Mariana knows they’re not done yet.


	92. You Are a Safe Place

**_Mariana - Tuesday, March 10, 2020 - Morning_ **

 

_She’s still gone. Oh God._

 

_…_

 

_Jesus comes. B too. And breakfast too. I wait._

 

_“I can help?” Jesus._

 

_“Mmmm...I need.” He waits.  Okay. Good._

 

_“You need?” Jesus again. B’s fake busy._

 

_“Why...am I?” Please please._

 

_B is noisy breathing stabs me. Food stinks, cloying my air.  Focus. You can. Slosh. Throb._

 

_Jesus, still with me: “Why are you?”_

 

_Earworm Brand: “I already tried, man. I told you…”_

 

_“Fuck you.”_

 

_“Mariana…” Earworm is not happy noisy. Roughpaper cuts my ears. “That’s not nice, okay? It hurts my feelings.”_

 

_“Mm.” (Good.)_

 

_Jesus: “B, hold on…” Bee buzzing. Bee. Not a worm. More fitting. “Mari? Why are you?” Pressing my hand. I do too._

 

_“Mm…” I look at our hands. He looks. B(ee) looks._

 

_Brain juice sloshes. What color is brain juice? (Never eating again now.)_

 

_I try again. (_ Move _.) “Pa-nini.” (_ Move.) _“Pan. Nini.”_

 

_B the Bee: “Here we go…”_

 

_Jesus dagger looks. At me, he’s with: “Panini?”_

 

_“No.  I can’t.” This is taking too damn long. “Why?”_

 

_“Why can’t you?” I love him._

 

_We look. He waits._

 

_“I’m. Panini.”_

 

_“Okay. Why can’t you?”_

 

_“Mm...Jail.”_

 

_He clicks on, lit. “Why can’t you move?”_

 

_“Mm. Move.” I press him._

 

_“You hurt your head. In a car accident. So, you can’t move very well right now. Okay?” Jesus looks._

 

_“Purple. Not…” (It’s not okay.) I’m slipping. Nothing._

 

**_LovingLink - Tues, March 10, 2020 - 2:34 PM_ **

_So, go figure…  Remember how Mariana was rambling about paninis yesterday?_

 

_Jesus figured out that she’s asking why she can’t move._

 

_(I don’t really get what that has to do with sandwiches but I guess the brain works in mysterious ways.)_

 

\--

 

“Of course it was Jesus,” Mariana sighs, relieved.  She’s not even mad it’s a Brandon entry. Just thankful that she finally knows what panini was subbing for.  

 

(A sandwich smashed flat.  Immobile. Pinned. How she felt, very probably, trapped in a strange room.  Strange bed. With no one telling her one damn bit of information, except for the times Jesus apparently went rogue to explain.)

 

“Does it help, knowing?” Levi asks.

 

Mariana nods.

 

They keep reading.

 

\--

 

_I also have no idea how Jesus had the patience to figure it out, but then again, they have that twin thing that none of us really understand.  They’ve always had far more patience for each other - long after ours ran dry with them._

 

\--

 

“Oh my God…” Levi insists.  “Does he even get how heartless he sounds?  Toward both of you?”

 

“He’s right, though.  They didn’t have patience.  And we did. And we always felt the most safe together.”

 

“Must’ve been so hard for you when he was missing…” Levi ventures gently.

 

Mariana nods.  “Yeah.”

 

It’s still impossible to tell anyone just how hard it was, but it means a lot that Levi thinks about it.  Asks her. Considers not only what their being forcibly separated meant for Jesus, but also for her.

 

“The thing you said…” Mariana confesses, in a hush.  “The nightmare-thing with your dad? And...her? It happened with me.  When that happened to Jesus? They were understanding for a second. But when it kept happening...and I was in their bed?  They weren’t really...you know?”

 

“They didn’t have patience for you.  Like Brandon said?” Levi guesses.

 

Mariana shakes her head.

 

“You couldn’t help it, though,” Levi objects.

 

“It’s...he used to be there.  A lot of times. With Ana. He’d make sure no one…” Mariana trails off and shrugs.  “Times he wasn’t there? I knew what that meant. So...it just happened.”

 

“You don’t need to justify it, Mariana, I get it,” Levi says gently.  “You were scared. Traumatized. It makes sense that started happening again.  Your moms...you’d think they’d understand…”

 

“They did,” Mariana insists.  “They just hated...whatever that came with it.  The mess. The laundry. Was your mom...was she nice to you about it? Were you okay with your dad?”

 

“I mean, -ish…” Levi allows.  “Mostly, I just hid behind the closet door, I think, and snatched clean clothes from him when he offered them.  Came back and my bed was all remade.”

 

“Your mom?  Was your dad mad about…” Mari hedges.

 

“He just changed his shirt while I changed.  Never acted mad.” Levi admits. “Memory’s hazy, so I don’t know.”

 

“Sorry.  We don’t have to talk about it if…” Mariana apologizes.

 

Levi bites his lip.  “Is it weird if I say it’s kinda nice to be able to?  That you get it? I’m not happy your moms were jerks to you, but I am happy that you’re not one more person who’d give me The Look over it, you know?”

 

Mariana shakes her head.  “No. It happens. I won’t judge.  We should probably keep reading B’s crapfest though.”

 

“Right,” Levi nods.

 

\--

 

_Honestly, Moms and I have been trying to hold off this conversation for as long as possible.  We just haven’t known how to explain or how much she’ll understand, but I guess, after seeing how little she cared about having her hair shaved off and a Frankenstein scar, maybe all bets are off?_

 

\--

 

“Here’s an idea...maybe they could talk to you like a damn human being and explain, instead of being all cagey…” Levi insists.

 

“And I don’t care again.  See?” Mariana asks, without even the energy to react this time.  This whole thing is so draining.

 

“Like...do they not get that you need rest?” Levi continues.  “I just… It’s not that hard to be a decent human being. My dad didn’t have the best days either all the time, but that doesn’t mean we kept stuff from him.  It was still his life and his information.”

 

“But he’s your parent.  Parents...it’s… You got to know him...before,” Mariana tries.  Levi’s face is telling her she might be on shaky ground here. To be careful.

 

“They got to know you before,” Levi points out, soft.

 

“Right, but...with your dad?  Respect was built in. Free. Because he’s your dad and that’s what dad usually means.  So when...the thing happened...whatever...I don’t know… When that happened… You already have a cookie-cutter for him.  Textbook. Context.”

 

“You’re saying…” Levi begins, slowly.  “There’s an inherent respect with my dad?  That existed because he was my dad. And that didn’t go away when he got sick, because I already knew him in the other context?”

 

Mariana nods, relieved that he’s tracking with her and not offended.  “Even though he got sick...he still had a healthy person’s respect.  Like. From you and your mom…”

 

“Right.  ‘Cause other people did treat him crappy.  He hated that, too.” Levi remembers. “But you’re saying when things are flipped...and it’s a kid who gets sick or injured and they don’t have that inherent respect from their parents?  That’s where things get twisted.”

 

“Yeah,” Mariana nods.  “Just...there’s a difference between how you saw your dad and how they see me…”

 

“Ah.” Levi nods.

 

\--

 

_Jesus told Mariana she’d been in a car accident and hurt her head.  That that’s why she can’t move._

 

_Honestly, I was expecting tears.  Screaming. Something. But she just stared, and then fell asleep._

 

_I guess it’s a good thing.  I mean, it’s not like I want Mariana to be upset.  It’s just that any normal person would be._

 

_And I guess that’s the problem._

 

_B_

 

\--

 

“Brandon’s the last person to say what’s normal…” Mariana remarks.

 

“Right?” Levi asks, incredulous.  “Again. It’s like they forget you’re freaking exhausted here.”

 

“But Jesus told me,” Mariana points out.

 

“Yeah, he did.  I’m glad,” Levi smiles a little.

 

\--

 

**_Mariana - Tuesday, March 10, 2020 - Evening_ **

 

_Eat. (It’s crap food.)_

 

_Nothing._

 

_Eat. (So freaking much noodle broth why)_

 

_Nothing._

 

_And now my Kid Friend and Kid Friend’s mom are here. Happy. What are they happy for?_

 

_They are slidey and cooing. Okay… Weird… (And won’t say to me. When they do, Stef says.)_

 

_(Is Stef back just beside they’re here?)_

 

_“Miss Thang, don’t be rude… Lexi and Sonya came to see you. Talk to them!”_

 

_Lec sits. Waits._

 

_I move my not-dead hand. It won’t wave. “Mm…  Hi…”_

 

_“Hi, Mariana!” Earworm world._

 

_“I...  Why? Did you go?” (“Why are you here?” but okay.)_

 

_Lec flattens her eyes. “Um… I don’t know… I just got here, Mariana…”_

 

_“Fine.” Whatever. Talk: “I’m no body. My cartruck. And dresses play. Like Punky Brewster. My purple smashed headface.” I wait._

 

_Lec ices. Stef and Lec Mom look between around._

 

_Food comes. Stef loudly breathes. “She needs so much help now…” (Not-crying just.) Takes thing off for the food show._

 

_Lec Mom says, “Why don’t I do this? You need a break…” Pity eyes._

 

_“Are you sure? That would be great…” Stef looks at Lec. “Want to take a break with me?”_

 

_(She is gone years and back never. Just wants Lec. Fine.)_

 

_They leave._ **_Fuck._ **

 

_“Aw, you okay, Mariana? It’s okay. I’ll help you with this.” She noises the things, and earworms crawl. She crawls them for days._

 

_The chickenfish has rot. The cloud is gags me. She tries to eat me. Just bread, plants._

 

_…_

 

_I’m jumpened awake by Stef: “We’re ba-ack! You okay, Sonya? She can be a lot one-on-one… Hey sleepyhead! Wake up and see what Lexi got you!”_

 

_Shitty earworms echo._

 

_“Mm. Loud fuckers… What?”_

 

_“Wow…” Stef candy chocolate jokes. “If I wasn’t so offended, I’d be impressed! That made sense, I think!”_

 

_Others smile fake._

 

_Lec performs a cardboard thing. I underneath it. Break it._

 

_Stef: “Whoa there, how about if someone with some coordination helps you? Sorry, sweetheart!” (Not me.)_

 

_She finds and says the reading. They noise._

 

_(Not-Nothing how come why not, Stef?)_

 

_They shut up, and Stef shuttens the pink thing on top of my jail. It’s staying too now. Like me._

 

_Stef: “Lexi, honey, you should probably open that for Mariana, huh? We wouldn’t want it to end up looking like the poor card…” Happy candy pop pop pop._

 

_The destroying is machine things shooting. Bayonet killing stabbing._

 

_Then, more pink things. Noise. Lec loudens one. The pink has dead spiderweb brain water reek._

 

_Stef: “Oooh, it smells so good! Smell it, Mariana!”_

 

_“Get the fuck out of here. It’s garbage bag. Now.” I try to._

 

_Lec Mom says, “Maybe we should let you get some rest. Feel better, okay?”_

 

_I think I never._

 

**_LovingLink - Tues, March 10, 2020 - 11:11 PM_ **

_So, LovingLink fam…_

 

_You’ll never guess who stopped by to visit our girl tonight…_

 

\--

 

“Ew.  Stef should never say LovingLink fam…” Mariana decides.  

 

“Sounds like you have visitors, too.  Do you know who?” Levi asks.

 

“No.  Lost in the void.  Which is why I’m making you read this terrible thing,” Mariana clarifies.  “Sorry, not making you, just…”

 

“I get it,” Levi nods.

 

\--

 

_Lexi and Sonya, thank you so much for stopping by._

 

\--

 

“Who are they?” Levi asks.  “People you like, I hope?”

 

“I mean, yeah.  Not people I want to see me in the hospital, but yeah.  The first one’s my best friend growing up. The second one’s her mom.” Mariana explains, feeling her face flush.

 

\--

 

_I know Mariana loved the gift you picked out even if her reaction was less than thankful.  (Heck, I appreciated that you thought of her, and dropped everything to come and see her. And she does love the card, so that was a win…)_

 

_It was truly a moving experience watching these two with Mariana.  Lexi was so strong and just sat with Mariana and listened as she rambled.  Sonya was a big help feeding her, which gave me a break._

 

\--

 

“Wow...so again...it’s all about Stef…” Levi mutters, unimpressed.  “She doesn’t seem at all even interested in what you said, or you at all.”

 

“Nope.  How strong _she_ is.  How great _her mom_ is for giving Stef a break,” Mariana comments, bitter.

 

\--

 

_Lexi and I walked down to the gift shop together and talked and cried a bit,_

 

\--

 

“Wait.  So Stef left you there with _your friend’s mom_ to help you with dinner?” Levi asks.  “So, it sounds like Stef wasn’t there at all…”

 

“Probably wanted to be with her.  Her daughter. Not me,” Mariana attempts to explain.

 

“That’s so cold though.  To leave you like that. Help with eating is pretty...I don’t know, it’s personal right?  Kinda intimate?”

 

“I guess, yeah…” Mariana nods.

 

“And she left you with your friend’s mom to do it?  So she could hang out and talk and cry with the daughter?” Levi’s getting even more pissed than Mariana is.

 

Honestly, Lexi and Sonya visiting isn’t something Mariana remembers.  But it does explain why, post-accident, there’s a huge wall between them now. 

 

“Keep going?” Mariana asks.

 

\--

 

_Lexi and I walked down to the gift shop together and talked and cried a bit,_ _while Lexi agonized over the perfect thing to buy her friend.  (What do you buy for someone who’s confined to bed and has no interest in anything but sleep?)  Finally, Lexi picked out a bright pink Get Well Soon balloon, a card and an adorable set of cranberry vanilla hand soap and lotion.  (So Mariana, am I right?)_

 

_As I said earlier, Mariana’s reaction was not exactly appropriate but what we’ve come to expect from her._

 

\--

 

Levi pauses, like he’s trying to keep his anger in check.  In the end, he loses the battle, and comments quietly. “You can’t bring smelly shit to the ICU.  That’s not a mystery.”

 

“I wasn’t in ICU,” Mariana points out.

 

“You basically were,” Levi retorts.  “And they should know hospital rules if they’re gonna come visiting and bring you garbage like that.  I’m not surprised you weren’t happy with what she picked. If anything, the damn gift was inappropriate…”

 

“Doritos…” Mariana remembers.

 

“What?” Levi asks.

 

“I don’t remember the lotion, but I remember smelling Doritos this one time.  And it was like...I fell into a giant bag and got trapped with all the nacho cheese vomit chips.”

 

“So, your sense of smell was intense.  No wonder you didn’t like your friend’s nasty lotion.  Every time she says something is so you? It makes it that much clearer...she really doesn’t know you at all.”

 

“Or Jesus,” Mariana points out, remembering their birthday.

 

“Right,” Levi nods.

 

\--

 

_We are hoping that with the move to inpatient rehab tomorrow, some of these inappropriate outbursts can be curbed and we can have our sweet daughter back._

 

_Stef Adams Foster_

 

\--

 

“Oh shit.  I’m moving,” Mariana looks at Levi with wide eyes.  “I thought I just came home. Why am I moving?”

 

“I don’t know.  It’ll be okay, though.  I’m staying. And I’m sure Jesus didn’t let you go by yourself.  I’m sure he went, too.”

 

“Oh my God.  Duh. I remember stuff from rehab,” Mariana breathes a sigh of relief.  “Sorry, I don’t know what the hell that was. Sometimes...I don’t know. A word just...catches me I guess?”

 

“Catches you off guard?” Levi asks.

 

Mariana nods.  “Stef said _I’m moving_ to inpatient rehab.  Usually, when we moved, it was together.  Me and Jesus.”

 

“I can see why it freaked you out.  But like I said. I’m sure he came,” Levi reassures.  “Can you remember a lot about moving?”

 

“I think, technically, we moved...four or five times before coming to Stef and Lena’s.  So, some of the details are blurry. And then a couple of times…we bounced back to Ana. Wasn’t fun.”

 

“No, doesn’t sound like it.  You’re not moving alone, though,” Levi reminds her.

 

And it helps.

 

Her rabbit-heart slows, just a little.


	93. Burning Gold

**_Mariana - Wednesday, March 11, 2020 - Morning:_ **

 

_Today, I see Not-Stef. She says, “Rehab.” (Not to me.) Oh my God. So overbaked, I can’t. She catches - checks - on me. Sees me. She’s watering._

 

_I’m pissed._

 

_“Mariana…” (She impends, folds to me.)  “I’ve missed you...How are you?”_

 

_And I’m thudding._

 

_Rabbit runs for hole dirt._

 

_She tries to clutchen me - “No, fuck you! What why the swords they drip me with! I didn’t spoon melt! This is bullshit!” I’m leaking pissed-offness._

 

_“Shhh… It’s okay. It’s Mama.”_

 

_No...she can’t put me. Please._

 

_Jesus, just to me: “You won’t be alone, okay? We’re coming with you. It’s going to be okay. I promise.  We’ll meet you there…”_

 

_They go. My bed moves. I slosh in black brain water. Laser beams. Cartruck ocean behind - before - gorge-sky steals my seeing. Elsa and hard drawing nothing headface._

 

_I turn off. Persons lock me in the cartonbox. It moves._

 

_Rabbit.  Rabbit. Rabbit._

 

**_LovingLink - Wed, March 11, 2020 - 8:50 AM_ **

_On the way to rehab facility.  Mariana is going by ambulance. Mama and I by car.  Jesus is driving separately. He wanted to ride with Mariana but was not allowed._

 

\--

 

“I had to go myself?” Mariana asks, feeling hopeless.  “I guess it makes sense, I just…”

 

“It sounds really scary,” Levi nods.  “I wish they’d let Jesus go with you.”

 

“Me, too,” Mariana nods.

 

\--

 

_Oh, and no warm reunion between Mariana and Mama.  Mariana rebuffed her hug and got really agitated again so Mama backed off._

 

_I think it really hurt her feelings._

 

_Mariana didn’t seem to notice._

 

_More later,_

_B_

 

\--

 

“He acts like I have no fucking feelings at all!  He doesn’t know! And he didn’t say!”

 

“No one asked you why you were upset,” Levi realizes.  “That sucks.”

 

“Or even tried to figure...whatever!  I hate him saying that I have no fucking feelings.  That I didn’t care seeing myself or knowing what happened…  He _doesn’t fucking know_!” Mariana insists, her eyes bright with tears.

 

“Okay,” Levi says, closing the laptop again.  “Let’s take a break,” he says as Mariana’s heart pounds with dread-rage.

 

“He doesn’t know!” Mariana repeats.

 

“You’re right.  He doesn’t,” Levi nods.  “And I don’t agree that he has the right to go writing crap about you that isn’t true.  Crap that’s ended up harming you in the longrun. It’s not fair.”

 

“I don’t want a fucking break, I’m not a child!” she seethes.

 

“I know that.  But you’re shaking.  So, maybe it’s not a bad idea,” Levi pushes back, gentle.

 

“ _Levi_.  Would you do this to your dad?” Mariana insists, eyes flashing.

 

For that second, his eyes are intense, too.  “Don’t talk about my dad…” he warns.

 

“You respected him.  Do you respect me?” she challenges.

 

“I’m trying to help you, Mariana…” he presses, and it sounds so close to pity that she breaks first.

 

“You haven’t done _anything_ to help me!” she yells at him.

 

Mariana watches as all the color drains from Levi’s face.  As he gets up. Backs off. “I’ll...I’ll be back, I just… I need a break.”

 

And he leaves her.

 

It’s everything she thought would happen, and everything she hoped wouldn’t.

 

\--

 

Mariana glances over her shoulder and is surprised to see Levi on the trash-bench nearby.  Doesn’t go over because it’s his break. But she wonders. 

 

Did she ruin everything?  Are Levi and Pearl going to leave now?  Will they ever come back? Or ask them to come back to Minnesota?  Did Mariana just single-handedly destroy seven months of friendship in seconds?  Will they forgive her?

 

Will Jesus?

 

Will Fran?

 

Levi never will.  Pearl never will.

 

Mariana’s getting ready to just gather everything up and text Jesus for a ride when her phone chimes:

 

**_Levi:_ **

_I do respect you.  I’m sorry._

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_OK_

 

**_Levi:_ **

_If you wanna keep going we can._

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_You can’t baby me, Levi.  Please. It’s humiliating._

 

**_Levi:_ **

_I wasn’t trying to baby you, I was just…  Okay, I’m sorry. I won’t._

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_I’m 23 years old.  I have the right to make choices._

 

**_Levi:_ **

_I know._

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_Everybody else gets to make choices, even ones that might bite them in the ass.  I get to do that, too._

 

**_Levi:_ **

_Yes, but as friends we protect each other.  That’s all I’m saying._

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_But you can’t protect me from this!  OK? You can’t. It’s not helping me if you pity me.  That’s what they did. I want to know that this is different._

 

**_Levi:_ **

_Okay.  It is. I’m sorry.  I promise I’ll listen to you better.  And sorry for snapping at you. Dad’s kinda a sensitive area.  Made a lot of mistakes w/ how I handled him getting sick._

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_I’m sorry.  And I didn’t mean you haven’t helped...I just meant...you can’t with this._

 

**_Levi:_ **

_Because I can’t protect you._

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_Right._

 

**_Levi:_ **

_Can I come back?_

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_It’s your break.  I was giving you space._

 

**_Levi:_ **

_???_

 

Mariana turns to him and waves him over.

 

\--

 

They’re quiet for a while.  Finally, Mariana offers, “I thought you were gonna...I don’t know...really leave…”

 

“No way,” Levi denies.  “And I am sorry about not listening to you.  I should have.”

 

Mariana nods. “Yeah, you should’ve.  And I’m sorry about your dad. You know, commenting about that.  I can sometimes...I don’t know… I’ve made that mistake before.”

 

“You’re human,” Levi allows.  “And for the record, I do think it’s totally shitty that Brandon and your moms act like you don’t have any valid emotions or reactions.”

 

“Thanks,” Mariana nods.  “I really don’t wanna lose you because of this, Levi,” she tells him, studying the grain of the table.

 

“What do you mean?” he asks.

 

“Offending you?” she tries to explain.  “So you don’t wanna come back. Or you and Pearl leave and none of us are friends anymore…”

 

“Hey,” he says and pauses so long, Mariana glances at him.  “I’m not leaving. I might need space sometimes, but I’m not gonna ditch you when things get hard.  I know I’m not great with words because of...well...probably trauma and you’re not great with words because of aphasia.  It’s a thing. And we’ll have to navigate it. But even if I have to step away, Mari, I’ll always come back.”

 

“Seriously?” Mariana asks. “Don’t just smoothe me over, Levi.”

 

“I’m not.  I’m not placating you right now.  It’s the truth. I’ll always come back,” Levi says, looking her in the eyes.

 

Mariana lets out a breath it feels like she’s been holding forever.  “Okay. I mean...you might have to remind me of that if you need another break or something?  But for now. Okay.”

 

“Okay,” he nods.  Levi raises his eyebrows, hand on the laptop.

 

Mariana nods.

 

Finally, they continue.

 

\--

 

**_Mariana - Wednesday, March 11, 2020 - Morning/Afternoon:_ **

 

_Rehab turns the sunburn to bleeding. It will bake you over. I don’t see. The shines are too millions._

 

_I don’t see unless - until - Jesus is with. Dud has excited twinkles. They shard my ringing placement._

 

_“Hey Mari...how was the trip?” Jesus. But I don’t._

 

_“No, I can’t not don’t do the thing! I told her! And the fucking twinkles die now, okay? Please?”_

 

_“You don’t do the thing?” He waits._

 

_I. Don’t. Do. Spoon. Melt. Damn. “I don’t…” I breathe. “Spoon. Melt.” He will never._

 

_“You don’t spoon melt?” He waits._

 

_“Rehab. I don’t.” I look at him._

 

_“You don’t need rehab? ...Because you don’t spoon melt?”_

 

_“Mm-hm. Please.”_

 

_He sees now. “Okay. I know. This isn’t drug rehab, Mariana. This is, like, injury rehab. Because you hurt your head. Sorry, I thought Moms told you.”_

 

_My nose squishes. “Fuck…”_

 

_He presses me._

 

_…_

 

_She’s back. With sheets. And B._

 

_They’re all not-soft._

 

_And twinkling yet, really Dud? (Does he love or disgust it? Just not.)_

 

_“Okay, Mariana?” Mama. “We need to fill out this form, so I’m going to ask you some questions. Okay?”_

 

_“But not the twinkle.” Coin money rains._

 

_Mama flattens her mouth. “Mariana? Let’s focus now, please.  Here is the first question:_ **_In a few words, why do you think you’re here?”_ **

 

_Injury. “I’m no-body.” Fun…_

 

_Mama: “Okay. Um. Listen to the question, then answer it:_ **_Why do you think you’re here?_ ** _”_

 

_Injury. “Rehab. Regrab. Recode.” Fine._

 

_Mama: “Well, I see that coding is still in your brain somewhere.  Let’s try another question._ **_What is your acceptable pain level?_ ** _”_

 

_The twinkles pain myself. Jesus, why? “Fuck the twinkling, Je-sus! Throw it the fuck across!”_

 

_Mama breathes, small pissed: “Mariana, I need you to concentrate.  Jesus is not doing anything to you. I need you to tell me what your acceptable pain level is.  Is it a two? A three? A five?”_

 

_Obvious. “Nothing pain level!”_

 

_Mama: “Well, I think you’re going to have to deal with some pain.  Should we say two?”_   


 

_Why ask? “Shut up.” I will. And you too._

 

_She does._   


_\--_

 

**_Mariana - Wednesday, March 11, 2020 - All Day:_ **

 

**_Jesus_ ** _and me..._

 

**_What problem brings you here?_ **

_Rehab my headface and no body._

 

**_When did this problem start?_ **

_Shut up._

 

**_How has this problem affected your ability to participate in activities such as work, school, social or church activities, parenting, caregiving, volunteering etc?_ **

_I can’t._

 

**_Do you have problems with the following activities (Check all that apply)_ **

**None**

**Bathing/grooming**

**Dressing**

**Household chores**

**Stairs**

**Driving**

**Yard work**

**Cooking**

**Other (please specify)**

_All around about. I’m jail bed._

 

**_Are you experiencing pain?_ **

_The twinkle pain lights._

**_If yes, where?_ **

_Shut up._

**_Rate your pain from 0 (no pain) to 10 (unbearable pain)._ **

_Fucked up._

 

**_Describe your pain (check all that apply)_ **

No pain

Shooting

Aching - x

Throbbing - x

Dull - x

Sharp - x

Burning

 

**_What is an acceptable level of pain (Rate from 0 - no pain to 10 - unbearable pain)_ **

_No pain level._

 

**_What helps your pain?_ **

_Nothing, shut up and darken._

 

**_What is your goal in therapy?_ **

_Get out._

 

**_If you are female, could you be pregnant?_ **

_Fuck you to hell._

 

**_How do you learn best?_ **

**Reading**

**Listening**

**Demonstration**

**Pictures**

_How do I not the same and no hypothesis tonight?_

 

**_Do you have any learning difficulties or barriers_ **

**Yes (if yes please specify)**

**No**

_C._  


**_Areas of Concern?_ **

_No Body. Get out around jail bed._

 

**_LovingLink - Wed, March 11, 2020 - 1:25 PM_ **

_Almost forgot to mention, Mariana’s now one week post accident.  Day 5 of being awake. Day 4 of talking. Put like that, she has made a lot of progress._

 

\--

 

Mariana doesn’t comment, just wipes her eyes.

 

“Hey.  You okay?” Levi asks, noticing her.

 

“I can’t.  He just...sometimes and sometimes not,” Mariana closes her eyes behind the sunglasses.

 

“Something about Brandon?  Sometimes he what?” Levi wonders.

 

“I impressed him.  By waking up. Talking.  Little things he gets are big.  But then...sometimes… I’m nothing.”

 

“Hey.  You’re not nothing,” Levi tells Mariana seriously.

 

“He treats me like it.  They do,” Mariana insists.

 

“I know they do.  And they shouldn’t,” Levi nods sadly.

 

“It’s too much clashing…” Mariana manages.

 

“You can’t handle the contradictions?” Levi guesses.

 

She nods.  

 

“No, I know.  It’s not fair to you, Mariana.  I wish they’d get it all the time.  See you all the time. I wish I didn’t screw up and assume you’re saying one thing when I should know you approximate.  Substitute.”

 

“Please.  Keep going,” Mariana insists and she’s tense.

 

Will he?

 

\--

 

_Right now, Mama is trying to ask Mariana questions for this patient intake questionnaire thing.  It’s a challenge trying to hold Mariana’s attention these days. And her responses are either nonsensical or they’re pretty rigid (typical with brain injuries)._

 

\--

 

“More questions…” Mariana breathes.  “How?”

 

“Right?  And how the hell does Brandon know what’s typical for people with brain injuries?”

 

“No, just brain injuries,” Mariana insists - the way B phrased it clear in her mind.  

“Not a person with…”

 

“I know that’s what he said,” Levi says, looking at Mari in the eyes.  “But it’s not who you are. I know that,” he holds her gaze until she can’t anymore and looks away.

 

\--

 

_Example:_

 

_Mama:  In a few words, why do you think you’re here?_

 

_Mariana: No-body._

 

_Mama: Okay.  Um. Listen to the question.  Then answer it. Why do you think you’re here?_

 

_Mariana: Rehab...Recode..._

 

_Mama:  [smiling] Well, I see that coding is still in your brain somewhere.  Let’s try another question. What is your acceptable pain level?_

 

_Mariana:  F--- the twinkling, Jesus!  Throw it the f--- across!_

 

_Mama:  Mariana, I need you to concentrate.  Jesus is not doing anything to you. I need you to tell me what your acceptable pain level is.  Is it a two? A three? A five?_

 

_Mariana: Nothing pain level._

 

_Mama: Well, I think you’re going to have to deal with some pain.  Should we say two?_

 

_Mariana: Shut up._

 

_See what I mean?_

 

_B_

 

\--

 

“Again, not even taking your answers as valid…” Levi remarks, breathing out a long sigh.

 

“No surprise there.  I bet Moms just filled it out themselves,” Mariana decides.  “I hate that he codes me - _quotes_ me…”

 

“You do?” Levi asks.

 

“I mean...I like knowing...the conversation, I guess?  But it always sounds like he does it to…”

 

“To mock you.  Or laugh,” Levi nods.  “Yeah. That makes sense.”

 

“Plus, it’s like, is that really everything that went on?” Mariana asks.

 

“Probably not,” Levi admits.

 

“So, he’s editorializing,” she rolls her eyes.

 

“Oh, we can pretty much guarantee that.  And everybody’s probably eating it up like it’s fact.  Their every word.”

 

Mariana sits, feeling the need for quiet again.  Then, she looks at Levi.

 

“Not leaving?” she asks.

 

“Not unless it’s together,” he tells her.


	94. Headlights

**_Mariana - March 11, 2020 - Evening / Night:_ **

 

_My crying. Jesus is still staying. But Dud is breaking my earworms. He shatters me. I “Shut up,” even though Jesus is soft. He looks and wants to see._

 

_“I’m sorry…” He waits._

 

_“Fuck! Get him out!” My new rehab-headface has too much holes. Things pour inside me. I’m brimful of twinkling._

 

_“Is it Dudley?” He waits._

 

_I stab him with my crying eyes. What the fuck is the thing called? “His twinkles…” I moan._

 

_He containers, looking at Dud. “His collar?”_

 

_My cry more._

 

_Jesus grabs the twinkles and moves off the collar._

 

_I breathe. My ears kill with echos._

 

_Nothing._

 

_Later, Mama is back. My stomach is full past. “I need...to pee.”_

 

_(Behind I left the other place, a person redid my bladder tube thing. But it’s been chunky and not-right. The person redid it. And it’s still broken.)_

 

_But Mama says, “So, go. It’s okay. You’ve still got a catheter, remember?”_

 

_I opposite-nod. “I can’t.”_

 

_“Yes, you can.” She breathes, small pissed again._

 

_“It’s not here.” I slosh, almost dripping._

 

_“Honey, they would not have transferred you here without replacing your catheter… It’s fine, I promise.” Then, she gets a professional man who says like her._

 

_“It’s okay…”_

 

_So, I pee.  And it’s not okay. It’s warm and liquid and all around, wetting me._

 

_They see. I’m hottened by Mama, who says, “Oh no…” Oh yes. Only you didn’t._

 

_And I’m hottened by the man saying, “Oh, there goes your bladder again!”_

 

_I want to small into around inside the ground._

 

_Move. Slosh. Move._

 

_Nothing._

 

**_LovingLink - Thurs, March 12, 2020 - 12:15 AM_ **

_Boy, did I pick the wrong day to give Stef a break.  The move was hectic. We arrived here about a quarter to 10 in the morning and then it took most of the day to get Mariana through the patient intake questionnaire._

 

\--

 

“Still on that...and oh shit.  It’s Lena, I think,” Mariana observes.

 

Levi nods.  “I hope she didn’t harangue you through it…”

 

All Mariana has in her head is a line of dialogue from her favorite show, featuring the word Levi just used.  “Let’s not hold our breath…”

 

\--

 

_I eventually relented and gave it to Jesus to do with her, since she seems to only want to communicate with him._

 

\--

 

“Oh, my God, yes!  Give it to Jesus!” Levi cheers.

 

Mariana smiles but it drops off her face just as quickly.  “I probably talk to him because he listens.”

 

“Not because you’re being difficult,” Levi realizes, nodding along.  “Yeah, they keep making really unfair judgements on you...and acting like being with you is some kind of terrible job.”

 

“Maybe it is…” Mariana ventures, not looking at him.

 

“Trust me.  It’s not.” Levi reassures.

 

“You weren’t there.  You don’t know,” Mariana maintains.

 

“I know that you’re their daughter, and I know that you were hurt.  I know that you deserved respect and consideration. Which they didn’t give you.” Levi insists.

 

Mariana shrugs.  Levi seems so sure of himself.  

 

She isn’t.

 

\--

 

_He removed Dudley’s collar, which seemed to help with Mariana’s focus, but I have no idea what else happened because my darling son asked me and Brandon to leave._

 

\--

 

“I love that he made them leave,” Levi says, relieved.

 

“Wait.  The collar.  That must’ve been the thing I was saying in the last entry.  Where B quoted me.”

 

“And they dismissed you.  Right, I remember that. The twinkles, you said?” Levi asks.  “Finally, someone listened.”

 

Mariana nods.

 

\--

 

_By the time I got back (later that evening - it took Jesus all day to go through it with her - if I’d known that, I would never have tasked him with it, I’d just have filled it out myself.)  Anyway, by then, Jesus had already passed along the questionnaire and refused to give me any indication of what Mariana’s answers were._

 

_Kids, right?_

 

\--

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_I filled out a thing with you?  At rehab? With questions?_

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_Oh yeah.  We did._

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_What did you put on it?_

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_Your answers._

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_With your stuff added to it?_

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_No, I just literally wrote down what you said.  And don’t worry. I didn’t show Moms. Just the docs who needed it._

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_Thanks for the privacy._

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_Anytime._

 

“He wrote down just what I said,” Mariana passes on to Levi.  “And then he just gave it to the doctors. Didn’t show Moms. Like it says.”

 

“I’m glad,” Levi nods.  And he really seems to be.

 

\--

 

_So anyway, to end the night, we discovered whoever catheterized Mariana did an incompetent job.  She’d been holding it all day long. I tried to tell her she would not have been in trouble._

 

\--

 

“Okay, but how was I supposed to know?” Mariana objects.

 

“Right?  Last time Stef straight-up left you after, for like a day…” Levi remembers.

 

Mariana points to him and nods.  “Seriously. What the hell…”

 

\--

 

_(TBI rationale is interesting, isn’t it?  No qualms about messing the bed, but this apparently was embarrassing.)_

 

\--

 

“Oh my God…  Now _Lena_ has to talk about it?  Just shut up…” Mariana moans.

 

“She’s so disrespectful to you,” Levi remarks softly.  “My mom would’ve had words with her. My dad, too.”

 

“In, what, an alternate-whatever?  Where you were here for me through this?” Mariana asks.

 

“Well, yeah,” Levi answers, like it’s totally a thing.

 

“Can they have words with Stef and B, too?” Mariana asks.

 

Levi nods.  “And I’d stay with you.  You know, if you wanted…” Levi ventures.

 

“And do what?” Mariana asks thinking of thousands of pages of paperwork.

 

“Just be there,” Levi tells her.

 

Mariana melts a little.

 

\--

 

_I’m exhausted._

 

\--

 

“Pretty sure I’m more exhausted, but that doesn’t get any cookies…” Mariana seethes.

 

“They mock you for being, like, exhausted-on-blast but they can get all the sympathy they want for regular-exhaustion…” Levi nods.  “It’s messed up.”

 

\--

 

_Evaluations begin tomorrow and then physical therapy, occupational therapy and speech therapy.  We don’t know how long she’ll be in for. Her progress will depend on her determination in the days ahead._

 

_Lena Adams Foster_

 

\--

 

“Oh my God, no it _won’t_!”

 

The laptop’s in the grass before Mariana can even blink.

 

Levi’s quiet at her side.  Luckily, she’s near the edge, not him.  So he hopefully won’t think she’s pissed at him.

 

“I try!” Mariana insists.  “I always try!”

 

“I know,” Levi nods.  “They’re not fair to you at all.”

 

“It’s not my fault that I can’t…  I mean, it is, but it’s not,” Mariana manages.

 

“Mariana.  You’re right.  It’s not your fault that you’re still dealing with stuff.  Because it doesn’t have anything to do with how hard you work.”

 

She lets out a breath.

 

“And I get that you blame yourself for the accident, but it’s still not right that they put your whole recovery on you like that.  You need their help, yeah. Their skills. But you also needed their understanding.”

 

Mariana leans down and picks up the laptop.  Wipes off the few blades of grass that stuck to it.  Lena’s horrible entry is still there. She inches it toward Levi.  Nods.

 

\--

 

**_Mariana - Thursday, March 12, 2020 - Morning:_ **

 

_They move me for testing. I’m inside a wheelchair. They move it. We go to the melting ball of sun room. I’m sloshing and so busy - dizzy. Ugh._

 

_They move me, helping. To a blue exercise expansion. So, I’m seeing up to the burning grossness. It invades me. Bright lasers my soul. How can I exercise like this? They want me to invert myself. I can have teaspoons of doing, but not feeling. They help, talking like the earworms they are. I’m unseeing. Still sloshing. Waves._

 

_Sit up. Disgusting and worse._

 

_Back to the wheelchair. They chatter during. Stef is here too. Jesus isn’t. Damn._

 

_Now, they PowerPoint me on my dead hand. They stab me and wait. I feel twingles and bees. I nod to feel it._

 

 _“Make sure you tell me_ right _when you feel it, okay?” like I’m the wrong thing._

 

_I did though?_

 

_Dizzy and heavy. And now, infinity letters. They’re forever. It’s struggling to look at just one. Worse to have to say them. I know them, but their names are a lot of goneness. Freaky._

 

_m. a. R. i. I say them. They’re mine, even not in line. A lot else are whisks and brushes, so I see them. Know them. The saying makes them evaporate. Clenching clatters inside me. I try to smush it._

 

_They act all dreamishly normal. Not overacting. But Stef’s face crackles._

 

_Push it. Crusted into feeling-dust. Keep going._

 

_I can do it. But why my brain shards can’t, I don’t have knowing to figure. They are pieces of uncooperation floating disconnect. I can’t push this operating system - it shorts out. There’s no focusing._

 

_I try to believe the earworms. That this is my same brain. That it’s normal. But the rabbit of my heart wakes up. It starts to run._

 

_Now, an ancient. It’s a Yellow Pages. Telephone book._

 

 _“Okay, Mariana. Now, I want you to look up the name_ Marcia Hennessy _in the phone book. Start now.”_

 

_What the fuck? Why a timer watch now? Damn it damn it damn it. They aren’t fucking around now. Okay._

 

_Lift the heaviness open with my not-dead hand._

 

_An instant pot assault. Millions of tiny black letters making up millions of tiny black words on the yellow that wafts up a chokey musty cloud.  Each letter and word and color and smell is pouring in. A flood. I need a curtain. I need to pick where to see. I’m boxed._

 

_The prosciutto thinness - the pages - my dead hand has to work with not-dead hand to start at all. I banana them apart, looking hard, when I really want to rip them. And all of the prosciutto is the same. Letter-word floods._

 

_I find H._

 

_I find H-e._

 

_And then I am done. They only let me try for a little._

 

_But I’m not done. They bring out coins and a dollar and the timer watch and -_

 

_“Mariana, I want you to count this for me.”_

 

_I’m spinning. Rabbit running. The coins are big and middle and small and different colors._

 

_I try to see one at a time. Okay. The dollar._

 

_One dollar._

 

_The biggest coins. Three quarters. But this is not what they mean. I know they want me to make the money total, not just counting each piece in their own pile._

 

_So, three quarters - no, just see one - one quarter is 25 cents._

 

_Leave that for now._

 

_Now, the dime. Damn. Why is it so mini? I know it’s next. It’s 10 cents, even though it’s the littlest ever._

 

_So, I have one dollar. Three quarters. (Three 25 cents - oh shit, what’s that now?) And I have one dime. (One 10 cents.) And still a pile of others to figure. Oh my God.  How do I hold everything inside at once?_

 

_“One dollar…” I say, at last._

 

_And then, this is done too.  It’s all done. Stef’s mouth is in a line._

 

_Back in the bed, I cry. Stef tries to hug me, and I push._

 

_“It’s okay, sweetie…”_

 

_She lies. It’s not. “Fuck you.”_

 

_“Okay, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that… We just need to retrain your brain, okay? That’s why you’re here. Because you need help with that.”_

 

_She jangles some metal coins onto my table._

 

_“Just to get your brain familiar with them again…”_

 

_Like I want to see coins ever, Stef. Why the hell?_

 

_The rabbit is jumping up my ladder chest._

 

_And the pipes pull me down._

 

_Nothing._

 

\--

 

“This looks like it’s gonna be Stef,” Levi warns.  “You want my hand?”

 

Mariana nods.  Gulps.

 

\--

 

**_LovingLink - Thurs. March 12, 2020 - 11:08 AM_ **

_Well, I said it less than a week ago and it’s happening.  There’s a word for that, I think. Lena would know it. Self-fulfilling-something…  That my smart, beautiful daughter would come out of this damaged. Different. That she’d come out of it with special needs._

 

\--

 

Mariana’s eyes leak.  Tears track down both cheeks.  She clutches Levi’s hand.

 

And there’s the proof.  

 

After a week’s worth of entries.  Mariana’s not smart or beautiful anymore, according to Stef.  When those were the only two qualities they ever really loved about her.

 

Stef saw them at the police station after some foster parents dropped them off.  She had suckers. She talked to them. Found out about them. And eventually took them home because they were cute.  And quiet. And good. Then, Lena found out Mari was smart, besides, and it was even better. Stef found out Jesus was athletic, and same.

 

Their few good points made them keepable.  But now? Jesus has a crapton of extra trauma and doesn’t skate anymore.  And Mariana...well...she’s not smart or beautiful.

 

She’s this.

 

They don’t want her now.

 

And she’s felt it.  For months. More than a year.  She’s felt it. But it’s different, seeing it in print.  All the pieces coming together. _I didn’t sign up for this.  Damaged._

 

Mariana takes a deep breath and nods.

 

She has to know the rest.

 

\--

 

_Mariana was evaluated today.  Given all kinds of simple tasks to complete, and she couldn’t.  She couldn’t even do one successfully._

 

_She doesn’t know the alphabet.  So, she obviously has no concept of alphabetizing and she doesn’t even know how to count a handful of change._

 

\--

 

Levi pauses.  And Mariana realizes she is squeezing his hand hard.

 

She tries to adjust, rubbing her thumb gently, an apology.

 

He rubs her hand back with his thumb, too.  She doesn’t know what it means. He has nothing to be sorry for.

 

Levi didn’t do this.

 

“Go,” she grinds out, her voice hoarse.  She nods at the laptop so he’ll know she means keep reading, and not leave.

 

\--

 

_I’m devastated, but I can’t show it.  I have to stay positive for her. But how do I stay positive when I have no idea who Mariana is, or what she knows?  When she and Jesus came to us at 5 years old, Mariana quickly learned the alphabet and how to write her name. She was 6, when she first learned how to count change and she got it immediately._

 

_How do I cope with having a five or six year old in a 21-year-old’s body?  Her speech is even worse than that, maybe like an infant babbling - except ironically - her ability to curse, which she is in full control of._

 

_I don’t know what to do, but maybe therapy will help?  Any suggestions, parents? Anyone been through this? What can we do?_

 

_Stef Adams Foster_

 

\--

 

“You wanna stop?” Levi asks after Mariana’s nodded him through the entire rest of the entry.

 

She holds up a finger.

 

He waits.

 

She adjusts, holding finger and thumb a fraction apart.

 

“Not stop?  Just a break?” he guesses.

 

Mariana nods.  She realizes she hasn’t really stopped crying.

 

“Need a hug?” he asks and she nods, even though she’s not big on hugs.

 

He puts an arm around her back and she leans into him.  Crying on his shoulder.

 

“She doesn’t...want me…” Mariana manages.

 

Levi doesn’t say anything, but his breathing sounds wavy.  He sniffs.  

 

It’s the first time Levi really doesn’t try to comment everything to death.  He’s just there with her. Resting his head gently on hers. The not-scarred side, so it’s okay.

 

It’s not okay.

 

It’s right here.  

 

Right in front of them both.

 

And she has to keep reading.

 

Mariana has to know it all.

 

But Levi isn’t in a rush.  He just holds on. Humming a song.

 

“ _Another Day_?” she asks, recognizing the tune from RENT.

 

“Yeah, I’m practicing...for when I sing to Roberta,” he admits, clearing his throat.

 

She pulls back to study him.  Even though he’s quick to wipe his face, Mariana can see that he’s been crying, too.  It means more than anything he could say.

 

“I think…” Mariana says, studying him - not look away - “She’ll love it.”


	95. Before It Breaks

**_Mariana - Thursday, March 12, 2020 - Afternoon/Evening:_ **

 

_ I’m awake, and Jesus is here.  _

 

_ “Hey, are you okay?” He waits. _

 

_ “No.” I try to move the coin table. It stays. _

 

_ “How was the thing this morning?” He waits. _

 

_ “Sucked ass. Fucking sunbright, and they puppeted me. Stabbed me…” Jesus looks as my words go. _

 

_ “Yeah?” He waits. _

 

_ “Mm. And I couldn’t see the optometrist thing. Or the gagging ancient book. Or the fucking money piles.” I try to leave the table, but it does not barely. _

 

_ “That does sound crappy.” Jesus says. He louds the table away. _

 

_ Thank you.  I don’t say it. Hope he knows. _

 

_ We sit. _

 

_ Later, mostly all of the house people come. For dinner, they say. (To watch me eat? No.) We go to the cafeteria. I’ve never.  _

 

_ The rabbit starts running, seeing all else people who are bald and sewn and asleep-awake. Moms try to not look.  _

 

_ But I can’t not look. It’s another melting-sun room of bright and loud and dropping and spills. And the smells are of pale distant melodies of tiny not-fruit rot. More spikes of noodle broth fog. Disgusting. _

 

_ The house people talk. A lot. Stef says not-softly all about this morning. Lena nods and says, “Well, that’s why you’re here, right Mariana? To get better. And you will.”  _

 

_ How, though? _

 

_ They talk, and Jesus tries to secret my milkbox open.  _

 

_ “Hey hey hey! I know we all want to help, but Jesus, did you even let your sister  _ try _ to open that herself?” Stef is fake not-pissed.  _

 

_ Jesus says “Sorry,” but I see him. He’s not.  _

 

_ I pick up the bread roll, but Stef says, “How about using your fork and trying some...what is this, guys? Is it meat? Salisbury steak?”  _

 

_ She gunshot laughs. _

 

_ I don’t.  _

 

_ Frankie says, “Is there dessert here?”  _

 

_ I try to push give her my Jell-O. But it spills on B. Green wobble crotch.  _

 

_ “Oh Mariana! What are you doing?” Lena. _

 

_ “It’s okay. It’s okay. No big deal.” B. _

 

_ “Are you sure, B? I’m so sorry. Jesus, try to watch her, please. You’re right there…” Stef.  _

 

_ “Sorry…” Jesus. (He’s not. I hope he’s not.) _

 

_ “Mariana, apologize to Brandon, please.” Lena _

 

_ (Like hell.) “Why?” _

 

_ “You know why. Look, his pants are ruined.” Lena. _

 

_ “Green. Wobble crotch.”  _

 

_ Frankie gunshots laughs. _

 

_ “Nice…and true, I guess...” B. _

 

_ “That’s inappropriate, Miss Thang. You can’t get away with this stuff just because you’re brain damaged now. Apologize.” Stef. (So shitty awful.) _

 

_ (I’m. Sorry.) “Apologize…” _

 

_ “You heard me, Mariana. Don’t be smart.” Stef again. _

 

_ “Shut up. I can’t.”  _

 

_ “It’s really okay, guys. Don’t worry about it.” B. _

 

_ Stef, not-soft to Lena: “See, this is what I’m talking about!” _

 

_ “I know.  Hey, Mariana? Let’s have a nice dinner, okay? Can you apologize to Brandon, please?” Lena now. _

 

_ “Crotch-sorry…” _

 

_ Frankie laughs the loudest. Damn it. _

 

_ “Okay, maybe we should just go. This was too much too fast.” Lena (and Stef) stand. Frankie too.  _

 

_ “I’ll be back tomorrow. Good night, Mariana.” Stef. Real-pissed now. _

 

_ Jesus says, “I’ll stay.” _

 

_ And he does. _

 

**_LovingLink - Thurs, March 12, 2020 - 6:37 PM_ **

_ First, thanks so much to those who commented with advice.  We will take it one day at a time, and we definitely believe that Mariana will come back to us.  It helps that you do, too. _

 

\--

 

“Seriously?  They need to stop acting like you’re on vacation…” Levi mutters.  “Oh, this is Lena, BTW…”

 

Mariana wipes her eyes.  She’s nervous. Every single time she thinks it can’t get worse?  Somehow, it does. She doesn’t comment. She’s used to this, because Moms still do it.  Still act like the real her is out somewhere - maybe still in college - and she’ll come back if only Mariana works hard enough.

 

\--

 

_ Tonight was sobering, as today I spent the day at work, and Stef was here with Mariana, I was relying on these updates as well as calls and texts.  I’m struggling with what we’ve learned about Mariana through the evaluations, but I believe she absolutely can improve. _

 

\--

 

Mariana rolls her eyes.  Of course. Lena would believe that, instead of looking into actual things that might help Mariana cope.  But back then, Mariana didn’t even realize they existed. She had no support other than Jesus and Callie (when she came.)  No Avoiders.  

 

Just Moms pushing and pushing.

 

\--

 

_ We had dinner as a family tonight - sans Callie and Jude who are away at school.  But, B, Jesus, Frankie, Stef and I all joined Mariana in the rehab cafeteria to eat. _

 

_ To be honest, I’ve been worried about Frankie’s reaction.  We have done our best to explain to her what’s happened and that Mariana is different now than she used to be.  She wonders how long Mariana will be “Other Mariana.” I don’t have the heart to tell her, it may be permanent. _

 

\--

 

These words hit Mariana like a kick to the chest.  They steal her breath. It’s not that she didn’t know Fran was stuck in Moms ableism all this time.  Or even that the nickname for her post-brain-injury was a surprise. It’s just...she’d forgotten for a minute.

 

Because Fran has come so far in her disability attitudes.  It’s more than a little stunning to look back and see this.

 

“Oh.  Damn,” Levi winces.  “Are you okay?”

 

“I mean, I knew about it…” Mariana reassures, softly.

 

“But are you okay?” Levi presses, gentle.

 

“It sucks.  But it sucks a little less because...she’s...better about it, I guess.  The Avoiders have helped with that.”

 

“Good, I’m glad,” Levi nods, and he does look glad.

 

\--

 

_ Anyway, wow, I have zero focus right now.  Dinner. (There’s a reason I keep putting it off…)  Frankly, it  _ was _ off-putting…  Mariana’s one of the youngest patients there.  And all of them (not just Mariana) struggle with the most basic aspects of eating. _

 

_ Frankie gaped at all of the visible scars around us.  Silverware clattered regularly as spoons or forks were dropped on the floor. _

 

_ Stef used the opportunity to encourage Mariana to hold her own fork, open her own milk carton.  (She looked at us like we were the crazy ones…) But she is going to have to learn how to manage it all.  That’s why she’s here. _

 

\--

 

“I remember this,” Mariana says, gasping a little at the realization.

 

“Yeah?” Levi asks.

 

“Yeah...it was like...a show.  Them all watching me. And then I…  I spilled green Jell-O on B’s pants accidentally…”

 

Levi just looks on, curious.

 

“I remember because it was this...huge thing?  Both Moms were making me apologize and I couldn’t?  The words, were like, nowhere… So… They left me. Said something like  _ If you can’t behave you’re going to be by yourself _ …”

 

Mariana’s cheeks are hot.

 

“And, like, that’s nowhere here…” Levi observes.

 

“I know,” Mariana nods.  “Not that I want it to be...just…”

 

“We know whose dignity they respect…” Levi fills in, regretful.  “And whose they don’t give a damn about.”

 

\--

 

_ On the way home, Frankie asked, “Is Mariana still 21?” _

 

_ I struggled to explain that technically she is.  But that in other ways, she’s much younger. _

 

_ Frankie understood my meaning immediately:  “Oh. So Other Mariana’s in kindergarten, and that’s why she can’t open her milk.  It was hard for me then, too.” _

 

_ Sweet girl. _

 

_ Lena Adams Foster _

 

\--

 

“I hate the mental age thing,” Mariana breathes.

 

“I know.  How Stef is insisting that you suddenly de-aged and you’re now like in kindergarten.  And they’re not even trying to correct Fran.”

 

\--

 

**_Mariana - Friday, March 13, 2020 - Morning:_ **

 

_ Someone pulled all the silvers from me today - I was tensioned. Lots of tiny bees poking. _

 

_ Therapy starts early. And Stef is here seeing. _

 

_ I’m sitting on a hole-seat in the not-bath. The therapy person sees. It’s her job to see me. I try to do all the not-bath things.  The water is twingling, and she keeps saying about “Is it too hot?” I only care on my not-dead side. _

 

_ Stef is in my bed, but she can see in. Keeps saying, “Good job,” and “Focus,” and “At least you don’t have to wash your hair!” _

 

_ I’m de-humaned. Whatever. Just do the things.  _

 

_ No professional people to help me put clothes. The one to see over me and earworm me while I try to put dead arm and dead leg into rainy elastic clothes.  _

 

_ While I do things in the bathroom. Brushes and odors and washings. I try not to see my purple-yellow-red face and scar-head.  _

 

_ Socks are torture things. And Stef bought big huge balloon cement shoes “for rehab.” But now, I have to try to do the strings. _

 

_ My head still sloshes. And I can have bits of doing with my dead hand if I see it, but not enough. So, the one who sees and talks talks more (annoying) and slowly does my shoes to show me.  _

 

_ “Be careful!” Stef warnings from next to beside me. “My daughter will get used to this!” _

 

_ The one says, “Oh, Mariana will be doing this herself in no time. Won’t you, Mariana?”  _

 

_ “Yeah.” (How, though?) _

 

_ Finally, it’s over.  _

 

_ I have 20 minutes then there’s more. _

 

_ I would cry, but the Nothing drags me.  _

_... _

 

_ The only good is that Jesus is back. B too. Stef never left. They all come to the brightest exercise room. I’m wheelchairing again.  _

 

_ Jesus smalls by me. “It’s going to be okay.”  _

 

_ “Yeah. I got it.” _

 

_ Stef overlistens, “That’s my girl. That’s what I like to hear.”  _

 

_ “Okay.”  _

 

_ They all see me as I move and sit and invert and sit and scoot.  _

 

_ The Mariana Show.  _

 

_ Half dead and controlless. Cold-headed and headached. Elastic clothed. Ugly-shoed. They all take me in. I see them lined - and me - in the looking glass. Us. Them across. Me splayed. Splotchy. Red angry path to noplace all across my baldness. _

 

_ I’m not me.  Just a thing to be manipulationed and looked at. Whatever.  _

 

_ Watch me.  _

 

_ Or don’t.  _

 

**_Mariana - Saturday, March 14, 2020 - Afternoon:_ **

 

_ Callie and Jude come with Jesus today.  _

 

_ I’m in a common. In a wheelchair. With a therapy person. We do things with projects like paints.  _

 

_ They come in not saying. Wait. Then, I’m done. Jesus wheels me. The others go next to.  _

 

_ “How are you, Mariana? We miss you.” That’s Callie. Miss her too. _

 

_ “Tired.” _

 

_ Jude: “Yeah, don’t you ever get a break? It’s Saturday!” _

 

_ “20 minutes only. I’m in debt.” _

 

_ Callie: “Well, you look great.” _

 

_ “If you picture me, I swear to God…” (Jesus slows, tensions behind.) _

 

_ She ices. Smalls. Sees me. “I won’t. Promise.” _

 

_ We go to my rehab bed. They stay and I sleep. _

 

**LovingLink - Sat March 14, 2020 - 12:54 PM**

_ I feel like a broken record, but being a TBI Mom is hard. _

 

_ It’s not something any mom would choose.  Who wants their beautiful, smart, amazing daughter to have to go through this?  No one. _

 

_ Yesterday was Miss Thang’s first full day of rehab here.  And it was eye opening. Everything is a battle for her. Everything. Her early therapy involves relearning self help skills like dressing and teeth brushing.  She looks exhausted by the end of it. _

 

\--

 

Levi’s voice fades.  Trails to nothing.

 

“Hey.  I’m okay,” Mariana offers, in case it’s not clear.  “You can keep going.”

 

(She’s not really okay, though.  The idea that Stef was there watching her.  She has flashes of Stef lounging in the hospital bed - her voice distant - but not that distant - as she watched the shower progress.  It makes Mariana feel gross. Like a display case. Naked-mannequin-nothing.)

 

Levi clears his throat.  “I’m...not, though…” he finally manages.

 

“Oh.”  Mariana closes the laptop for him.  “We can take a break. You don’t have to...you know...see…”

 

“It’s not you.  It’s just...she was there with you.  Wasn’t she?” Levi asks, not looking at Mariana.  “Watching you...dress?”

 

Mariana nods, not looking either.  “And shower…”

 

“And did…  Do you think you...wanted her to be?” Levi asks, a shudder passing through him.

 

Mariana shakes her head.  It definitely would have been less embarrassing without Stef acting like an audience member.

 

“Are you...is it making you...remember?  Your thing?” she asks carefully.

 

Levi swallows and nods.  “Yeah...mine...uh...my… I mean, the thing that happened?  That’s um… That’s  _ where _ it happened.  So…”

 

“I’m sorry,” Mariana apologizes.  “I don’t...I don’t want this to hurt you, Levi.”

 

“I just wasn’t expecting it...you know?  That she’d be right there? That she’d basically write about it?”

 

“They write about everything else…” Mariana points out.

 

“I mean...true…” Levi runs a hand down his face.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stop you from knowing. I respect you and all that,” he clarifies.

 

“I know.  This isn’t that.” Mariana reassures.  “It’s fine. We have time. I’m not mad or anything,” she adds for a good measure.

 

For a while they just sit.  Levi takes deep breaths - so deep Mariana wonders if he’s about to be sick, but he isn’t.

 

He’s kinda grey and it reminds her of back when Stef threatened Fran with jail.  How panicked she’d been. Mariana wonders if she’ll know how to help if Levi panics.  But he doesn’t.

 

“Okay…  I’m okay,” he says breathing out a final time.  “You wanna keep going?”

 

“Do you...I don’t know?  Need to...talk?” Mariana ventures.

 

“I don’t really want to?  I just...want you to know that it was a thing.  To be able to be honest about it helps. Not to have to shove it all back in helps.”

 

“You don’t.” Mariana reassures.  “And, I don’t...like it either? That she was there.  So it’s not just you.”

 

“Thank you.  That helps,” Levi manages a small grin.

 

\--

 

_ She got a 20 minute break (for her that meant a 20 minute nap) and then back to the grind in an actual therapy room.  Jesus was there this time. So patient and understanding. I think he remembers how patient Mariana was with him when he came back and is repaying the favor now. _

 

_ Because he just sits with her.  Doesn’t say much.   _

 

_ B captured this amazing moment between them but as he is not here right now to show me how to attach the pic, you will have to trust me.  It completely captures where we are right now. _

 

_ Stef Adams Foster _

 

\--

 

“Ugh, it’s that picture….” Mariana groans.  Luckily, it’s not there, but Mariana knows the one she means.  One of the birthday ones that got released to the public. “I’m so glad Moms aren’t tech-savvy…”

 

“Yeah and that Brandon was apparently too busy to help them exploit you…” he remarks, bitter.

 

She sighs.  “She makes it sound like Jesus and I...like we’re constantly in debt to each other.  He’s repaying me for this. I did that for him. But it’s not like that at all. It’s just…”

 

“Life?” Levi asks.

 

“Not really.  I mean, it is, but…  Moms? It seems like they...keep score?  With us, in particular. Me, Fran, Jesus?  But Jesus and I? We don’t. Because we love each other.  You know?”

 

“They notice the debt, whereas you two?  Notice each other, and are just there. Because that’s what matters.”

 

“Pretty much,” Mariana nods.  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

 

“I mean, I’d like the emotional flashback thing to quit anytime but other than that, I’m great,” Levi insists, trying to find that smile again.

 

“You don’t have to,” Mariana insists.  “I don’t want your fake happiness. I want your...whatever you wanna really feel.”

 

“I just hate them…  Is it okay if I say that I hate them?” Levi asks.

 

“I mean...I do, too.  I hate them...and I love them…  But then...I guess I don’t know if I really love them or if I’m just relieved?  Afraid? Grateful?”

 

“Hmm…” Levi muses.  “I heard this quote once that says if you fear somebody you don’t have room to love them.”

 

“What do you mean?  Stop hating them?” Mariana asks.

 

“More that...I think it’s saying that love and fear are at opposite ends of a spectrum?  Like...you can’t both love someone and fear them? It’s maybe one or the other…”

 

“You wanna know one of my favorite things about you?” Mariana asks and she can see by the way his eyebrows raise that Levi’s surprised.

 

“You’re gonna say I’m smart, right?” Levi guesses.

 

“No.  That you talk to me.  You listen. And I just want you to know that it…  That means a lot to me. Because not many people do that.”

 

“It’s basic, Mariana.  And you deserve so much more than basic.” Levi reassures.

 

His eyes look amazing in this sunlight.


	96. Unconsolable

**_Mariana - Sunday, March 15, 2020 - Evening:_ **

 

_ Mama comes in alone with the nastiest clouds of McDonald’s - fries and greasy drips smelling.  _

 

_ “Hey, sweetheart! I thought we could have a little picnic, just the two of us. How does that sound?” _

 

_ She puts the bag. Tries to smush me, reeking.  _

 

_ “Get the fuck away from me! You’re a noxiousness of vomit!” _

 

_ “Mariana, I came all this way to see you…” Her voice is of hurts. _

 

_ “The hallway outside away, okay?” _

 

_ “Honey, we’re not eating in the hallway. We can eat here in your room or in the cafeteria.” _

 

_ “Fuck off. I’m not eating.” _

 

_ “You need to eat to get better, Mariana.” She does the bag. The reek wafts.  “I got you a Happy Meal - I remember you liked those. And a fish sandwich. And some chicken nuggets. Wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for… Pick something. What looks good?” _

 

_ “Nothing. I’m not.” _

 

_ She puts the sandwich and fries out on the coin table. Sees me. Waits. _

 

_ I pick up a fry. Taste. Salt fat grease empty shell smell. Nothing taste. _

 

_ “Nice job, Mariana. Next time, try using your other hand, okay?” _

 

_ “Mm.” (Whatever.)  She tries to put sandwich in my mouth. “I got it.” _

 

_ She’s happy. “Okay, great.”  _

 

_ But I fall it. Sandwich pieces and smells all ever my bed.  _

 

_ “Okay…” She breathes. “It’s okay. We’ll just pick it up.” She does. She cuts it into tiny. “There you go, sweetheart.” _

 

_ “Thanks…” _

 

_ “Try not to sound so excited…” Soft but not. _

 

_ “Okay.” I pick up a fry with dead hand, watching it. _

 

_ “Okay.” She breathes. _

 

**LovingLink - Mon March 16, 2020 - 10:47 PM**

_ Working and trying to find time to go see Mariana at rehab and being there for Frankie is like working 3 full time jobs at once.  I am beyond exhausted. Beyond demoralized. _

 

_ To be honest, Mariana has been at the facility for 5 days, and I am not seeing much progress.  Whenever she has any downtime at all, she sleeps. Her attitude could use an adjustment, but we’re hearing it’s common for TBI patients to struggle with outbursts and depression.  She is just in a terrible mood. And it’s hard to keep coming back, to keep wanting to be around her, when every single time she just pushes away my hug and tells me to f--- off. _

 

_ I want my sweet Mariana back. _

 

_ Lena Adams Foster _

 

\--

 

Everytime Levi’s looked to see if Mariana needed to pause or comment on this one, she’s shaken her head.  

 

She already knows they think she’s a burden.  Already knows they see Fran as one, too.

 

This entry in particular has Mariana remembering cloying nasty McDonald’s.  How Lena reeked like fast food and perfume and outside when she hugged her.

 

Levi’s staring into the distance now.  Mariana knows he’s not really okay. But how?  How does she call it out? Say she knows? Say she sees him?

 

“She kept bringing food,” is what’s out of her mouth first, though.  

 

Levi looks at her - caught.

 

“Do you--  Do you--” he shakes his head, grinning and looking away.  Tries to scroll down the page and she can see his hand shaking.  “I mean, we can keep going...like...if you…”

 

He’s hyperventilating.  

 

“Let’s just…  Let’s…” he reaches again for the computer.  Mariana gently nudges his hand out of the way and closes it.

 

“We don’t have to,” she tell him patiently.

 

“No, we do...  We do... Because...we do.  Because….” Levi gasps, reaching again.

 

“We don’t,” Mariana shakes her head.  Inches the laptop away.

 

“We do…  ‘Cause respect…” he manages, looking desperate.

 

“I know you respect me,” Mariana tells him.  “I know that. Can I ask you a question?”

 

“Yeah...of course…  Anything…” Levi insists.  His eyes are still dull with panic.  He’s still shaky. Still really quiet.  Freezing.

 

“Not anything.  One question,” Mariana clarifies, the idea that Levi’s open to anything makes her nervous as hell.  “Is one question okay?”

 

“Yes,” he says.  Breathy.

 

Mariana moves both her hands to either side of her face.  “Can you do this? Put your hands where mine are?”

 

Levi blinks and reaches over, gently laying his shaking hands on her face.

 

“Okay.  Can you breathe?”

 

Levi shakes his head. “Do it back...please?”

 

Mariana nods and holds his face between her hands.  She coaches him through one breath at a time, by breathing obnoxiously obviously herself.  Eventually, he seems calmer.

 

“Sorry…  It was the---uh---  Sorry…” he stutters again, letting Mariana know his panic isn’t as banished as she hoped.

 

“You don’t have to,” Mariana reassures.  “If you wanna talk, you can. We can go slow.”

 

He nods.  They breathe some more.

 

“It’s--  You said  _ food _ …” he tells her quietly.

 

“I’m sorry.”  Now, it’s Mari’s turn to apologize.  

 

“No, I mean, it’s not---  It’s not  _ bad _ ,” Levi takes a breath.  “It’s just that food is...it’s kinda all tied up in what happened to me.”

 

Mariana’s wrist throbs.  

 

_ (Tied to the railing with metal things like cops and robbers and they’re the robbers.  The ties are metal. Only big people can break inside them with a special key.) _

 

She tries to breathe the pain back in.  What happens when they’re both triggered at the same time?  If their triggers trigger each other?

 

“I said something,” he realizes.  “Are you okay?”

 

“Tied up...we just…  It was a thing. But I want you to talk. If you want to.” Mariana says.

 

“Okay.  Then you.” Levi decides.  He seems calmer now. More with her.  “It’s just…” he draws a breath, less shaky than the last several.  “The sensory stuff is like...all intertwined...I guess? So, food reminds me of the mud.  Both those things remind me of her...and the shower…and what happened in the shower…”

 

Mariana watches him.  Listens. Nods. “I know.”  It’s what she means but not quite.  “I know...how one thing can...bump the other things...and...then you’re back there.”

 

“You wanna talk about your thing?” Levi asks.

 

“Jesus doesn’t remember...and I don’t wanna remind him…” Mariana ventures.  “Besides, I might’ve already told you…”

 

“There’s not a limit on it, Mariana.  You can tell me as many times as you need to tell me.”

 

“Okay.  Same. So, when we were little...like, really little, before Stef and Lena?  Sometimes we got handcuffed outside. Sometimes one of her...whoever they were...would undo me...and...well...he used food, too.”

 

“He did?” Levi asks.  “Is it ever hard for you to eat?”

 

“I mean, I’m more afraid of not being…”  Mari moves his hands off her face. It’s getting beyond what she can take.  “Of not having enough. So, I eat. Even graham crackers.”

 

“Huh.”  Levi backs up so Mariana lets him go, too.  “Sorry...you know...I’m such a mess…”

 

“Sorry I made your thing about me…” she tells him.

 

“No, you didn’t.  Our things. They’re similar or something.  So, it’s okay. I know...none of this was on purpose,” he manages, gesturing to the laptop.  “And I hope you know I didn’t say the thing on purpose to trigger you…”

 

“I know,” Mariana nods.  Her mind winds back like an old-school VCR tape.  She remembers a million conversations with Stef and Lena...and not one...about that.  “Did...does your mom ever...talk to you...you know, about it?”

 

“My mom doesn’t know,” Levi tells her, quietly matter of fact.  “Do yours?”

 

“I mean…  That’s why we got removed the last time.  We were six or seven. Hospitalized. So you’d think they’d know…”

 

“Yeah...you’d think…” Levi ventures.  “But they never...like...talked about it with you?” he asks, putting the question to her.

 

“I mean...no…  Not that I remember.  They corrected us. Like, if we believed something really...ridiculous and they found out?  They told us how things really went...but they...never really… I mean, we had some counseling for a second after we were adopted, but then...Jesus...and…”

 

“Right,” Levi answers.  “Do you wish they had talked to you about it?”

 

Mariana nods.

 

“Me, too.”

 

“What do you wish they said?” Levi asks, his face open.  She can read the pain there.

 

She shrugs.  “That they don’t blame us…”

 

“Me, too,” Levi swallows.  Nods.

 

“It’s just...I know…  They did tell Jesus that stuff.  After he came back. Made sure to tell him.”

 

“So, why not you?” Levi asks rhetorically.

 

“The news,” Mariana shrugs.

 

“I’m sorry?” Levi asks, surprised.  

 

“What happened to Jesus was all over the news.  People were looking, you know, to see how Moms did.  Handled things. They...were in the public eye. So they had to do the right thing.  Get him therapy. Tell him they didn’t blame him.”

 

“You don’t think...they really do, do you?” Levi wonders.

 

“No.  I think they blame me, though…” Mariana admits, and something feels like it breaks loose inside her.  A heaviness feels lighter. “I think if they ever knew I told him to walk home that day? By himself? That I was the last person to see him and didn’t tell them?  They’d blame me.”

 

Levi looks stunned.  “But they still don’t know?”

 

“Took me years to even tell Jesus…so…” Mariana shrugs.

 

“So…” Levi ventures.  “May I hold your hand?”

 

She offers her right.

 

He does, looking her right in the eyes.  “So...I don’t blame you for what happened when you were a kid.  Not the thing with the graham cracker or any of the rest of that.  And I don’t blame you for not telling your parents about Jesus back in the day.”

 

Mariana draws a shaky breath.  “And I...don’t blame you...for getting mud inside.  Or whatever happened. You didn’t deserve what she did to you.”

 

Levi ducks his head.  “Okay, can we get back to this awful crapfest yet, please?”

 

“If you’re really ready…” Mariana ventures.  “Take it slow. No more full entries without breaks.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” he grins, opening the laptop again.

 

\--

 

**_Mariana - Thursday, March 19, 2020 - Afternoon:_ **

 

_ I’ve been here for a million times.  _

 

_ Used to this. But not too.   _

 

_ Because I’ll never be ready to have Stef watch this.  Me. _

 

_ Today, my work is a kid puzzle.  Easy. Only not. The fruits only lock one way, and they make me use my numb-dead head. The green hip-fruit is angled wrongly too. Annoying. It would fall if this was real. My hand wants to jelly it straight, but it won’t fit. Only tippy.  _

 

_ Stef looks red and sad. (Guess what? I am too.) _

 

_ Next is the Naming.  Real pictures. _

 

_ The therapist reads and shows me. The picture is a silver swan neck spout for cleaning.   _

 

**_“In the morning, I got up and took a…”_ ** _ She looks at me. _

 

_ “A bath.” _

 

_ “Almost.  Not a  _ bath  _ but a…” _

 

_ “Cascade waterfall. Flower.” _

 

_ She waits. _

 

_ “...Shower…” _

 

_ “Yes!  _ **_In the morning, I got up and took a_ ** **shower** !”

 

_ She goes on… _

 

**_“Where do you find one?”_ **

 

_ “In...my house.” _

 

_ “ _ Where  _ do you find the  _ shower _?” _

 

_ “The garage.” Damn it. _

 

_ “The garage?” She makes a face. “Are you sure?” _

 

_ Of course not. “No.” _

 

**_“I find the_ ** **shower** **_in the_ ** _ …” _

 

_ “Toilet. No. Bathtub.” _

 

**_“I find the_ ** **shower** **_in the_ ** _ …” _

 

_ “Bathtub...room…” _

 

_ She waits. _

 

_ “Bath… Room…” _

 

_ “Yes!  _ **_I find the_ ** **shower** **_in the_ ** **bathroom** **_!”_ **

 

_ I’m so tired, but I know the Naming is in fives.  She keeps on… _

 

**_“Why do you use one?”_ **

 

_ “Hygiene.”  _

 

_ She smiles. “Right.  _ **_You use a_ ** **shower** **_to wash yourself._ ** _ And that is hygiene. Just a few more.” _

 

_ I wilt. She says more… _

 

**_“When do you use one?”_ **

 

_ “In the morning.” _

 

_ “Okay,  _ **_you_ ** **shower** **_in the_ ** **morning** _. Could you also shower at night?” _

 

_ “Sure.” (Whatever you want.) _

 

_ “And last…  _ **_Pretend you are using it._ ** _ ” _

 

_ Oh my God. I’m not a nudist. “No.”  _

 

_ “Can you show me how you would wash yourself?” _

 

_ So. Humiliating.  _

 

_ I fake wash for two seconds. That’s all. _

 

_ “Yes! Great work, Mariana.” _

 

_ Stef comes up. “Such great work. You’ll be your old self before you know it, Miss Thang.” _

 

_ My face burns. I don’t know how not to disappoint her. _

 

**LovingLink - Thurs March 19, 2020 - 3:33 PM**

_ It’s been a few days since an update from me.  Mariana has now been here just over a week, and she is improving.  I know it’s difficult to see, Lena, but she is. _

 

_ It is hard to see your daughter who once had the potential to go to World’s on her engineering skills, struggle to count change.  Struggle to name a simple object. Struggle to put together a 4-piece puzzle. _

 

_ One day, she’ll put all this behind her.  If she can work hard now, I keep telling her, one day, she’s going to be her old self again. _

 

_ Stef Adams Foster _

 

\--

 

They do pause through Stef’s ridiculous entry, but just for seconds here and there.  Long enough for Mari to check on Levi - that he’s not shaking. Or stuttering. Or traumatized.  Long enough for him to see she’s okay. Not too overwhelmed at hearing Stef’s take on her.

 

By now, it’s like...she’s used to it.  Except she’s not at all.  

 

(How the hell is she supposed to feel used to it or comfortable or comforted at all knowing that Stef watched her struggle?  Knowing what Stef actually feels about it?)

__

“Wait.  You went to World’s for engineering?” Levi gapes.  

 

“No.  Almost.  That was…  I kinda went off the rails then, too.  Too much pressure. Memories. I kinda...got in trouble.”

 

“You did?”

 

“Senior year, I was supposed to go to World’s.  If we could raise the money. Do all the things.  But...it just never… And I was staying up all night, every night.”

 

“How?” Levi asks.

 

“Stole Jesus’s meds…” Mariana admits, cheeks flaming.  “I did it before. Just like, selling them. For cash. Ana needed money.  But like… This time, it was just… I needed to stay awake.”

 

“How’d you stop?” Levi wonders.

 

“I guess...I didn’t really.  I mean, I did. Jesus caught me.  Made me stop. Because it was like...he obviously needed the meds for real reasons.  I went away to college. And there was...alcohol and other stuff. Easy to numb out.”

 

“So this wasn’t just a thing...with Nick?  It didn’t just come up in college?” Levi asks quiet.

 

“No,” Mariana admits.  The first time, maybe ever, she’s said it out loud.

 

“And no one noticed?” he asks incredulous.

 

“I mean, they noticed?  Just didn’t care, I guess.  Except Jesus. And he had his own stuff going on…”

 

“Jesus isn’t your parent, though.  I mean, like, a parent,” Levi clarifies.

 

“Like I said, they noticed...they just...acted like I was being dramatic to make their life hard.  Yelled at me about being a bad example to Fran. That was it. Tried to ground me, but I just...left anyway.”

 

Levi looks scandalized.

 

“See?  I’m a horrible person.” Mariana tells him.  “By the time…the accident...I’d gotten kicked out of school.  And I couldn’t face them…” Mariana admits.

 

“Oh, wow…” Levi breathes.  “I’m so sorry.”

 

“So, it’s fine…  They just...didn’t have time for me.  With Jesus being the target for all their Mom energy and Fran needing them.  Not to mention B, C and Jude, too. Six kids is a lot.”

 

“Six kids is how many they decided they could handle,” Levi points out.  “That’s not a reason for you to fall through the cracks.”

 

“Well, your parents had you.  And you still kinda...fell…” Mariana points out.

 

“Right, I know,” Levi nods.  “I kinda did the opposite of you and worked my ass off so they wouldn’t have a reason to look my way or be concerned.  I think Dad noticed I was dealing with depression by the next year for sure. Took me out for dad-and-son time. It helped some.  Would’ve helped if I could’ve trusted that he hadn’t left me there...you know...on purpose…”

 

Mariana’s eyes widen.

 

“I figured...you know...how kids figure things…  That he must’ve known I messed up her floors, carpet, bathroom.  My jeans. Myself. He’d said he’d be back in five minutes. But he wasn’t.  And that happened. And like, maybe he knew and he left me there because she told him how bad I was…”

 

“No,” Mariana says quietly.  “He would never…”

 

“Maybe, though,” Levi counters, his voice hollow.

 

“Maybe never,” Mariana insists.

 

“He did call,” Levi tells her.  “And I always thought...she told him everything and...that’s probably why...he didn’t come back right away…”

 

“Could she have told you that?  Lied to you?” Mariana asks. “And maybe you just...forgot she told you and figured you thought it up yourself?”

 

“You’re giving me a lot of leeway,” he points out, weary, a weak smile on his face.

 

“Yeah, well, it’s about time someone did,” Mariana sighs.  

 

She scoots farther onto the bench and bumps into Levi unintentionally.  He reaches out to steady her.

 

Mariana’s exhausted, but knows there’s more to come.  Knows if she doesn’t finish reading this today, she never will.

 

Luckily, she’s got Levi by her side.


	97. Hymn For The Weekend

**_Mariana - Friday, March 20, 2020 - Afternoon:_ **

 

_ Stef took the day off from me. So, Brandon is here. (It’s almost more worse to have him see me - watch therapy.) _

 

_ I am in the bars, holding on, walking. PT holds a big waist holder, like it will make a difference if I fall.  It’s hard to trust my numb side. The foot doesn’t feel there, and I never know if the hand is listening if I’m not watching it.  _

 

_ Soon, we walk free a little.  The PT still holding. It’s weird, but I do it.  _

 

_ Back in the wheelchair, then Brandon comes up to me, loud and smiling. “Hey! That was great! Are you excited?” _

 

_ “Yeah.” _

 

_ “Yeah? You should be! That was awesome! I bet Moms will wish they could have seen this!”  _

 

_ “Okay.” _

 

_ Stef does come later, with a freezing ice McDonald’s cup. She keeps making me hold it.  “It’s  _ cold,  _ right? Feel that?” (I do, but it’s wrong. It’s not computing at first. And then, it’s pressure and hotness and hurt and cold. I let go.) _

 

_ “Yeah, I feel it.” _

 

_ She gets out the Torture Toothbrush next. “Have you been waking your nerves up today?”  _

 

_ B answers for me, “I don’t think so.” _

 

_ “Mariana, you have to keep doing this if you want to get your sensation back.” _

 

_ I grab the Torture Toothbrush and rub its hairs on my numb hand. Fingers. Arm.  _

 

_ The numbness sparks into overstimulationing pins and needles.  Lightning zips and crawls over me. Bugs and stinging. I want to take my skin off. _

 

_ Through closed teeth, I say, “It’s still dead. Won’t help.”   _

 

_ B’s curious. “Why are you wincing then? If it’s not actually working? Isn’t that a good sign?” _

 

_ “A crap sign.” _

 

_ “A  _ very good _ sign! Hey, Miss Thang! Keep going!” _

 

_ I breathe - the twingles unbearable. I keep going. _

 

**LovingLink - Fri March 20, 2020 - 6:04 PM**

_ B here. _

 

_ I’m back because Moms could use the support, honestly. _

 

_ Today, I sat in on most of Mariana’s therapy.   _

 

_ But the most interesting thing was actually the sensory training Mom had her doing.  Obviously it looked sort of uncomfortable and I’m not a monster. It’s not like I want my sister to be in pain. But the way Mariana was carrying on, you’d think it was much worse than temperature training with an ice-cold soda cup.  And as an actual part of her rehab, waking up her ‘asleep’ nerves by having her brush her ‘dead hand’ (her words) with a toothbrush. _

 

_ I guess I should be glad she does it at all? _

 

_ And the swearing does seem to be getting less. _

 

_ B _

 

\--

 

Mariana shudders. Her left side still explodes into pins and needles on steroids, bees with massive stingers stinging, if she does something innocuous like bump into the corner of a table with any part of that side.  

 

She remembers the damn toothbrush.  The McDonald’s soda cup. She remembers forcing herself through pain every day.  For them. For the distant chance that her left side might suddenly regain sensation.

 

It’s never happened.

 

Levi’s been quiet this entry.  “Were you okay...you know...with Brandon watching you?”

 

“No.  I mean, I don’t remember exactly...but...it was always easier without them.  You know, except, like Jesus.”

 

“Yeah.  Sounds like...just too much.  Like, what’s up with Stef making you do all that sensory stuff when it clearly hurt you?”

 

“Because,” Mariana says.  “In her mind...it would be totally worth it.  You know, if I could come back to normal.”

 

Levi shakes his head, like he’s so disappointed in Stef right now.  

 

(She hopes he’s not disappointed in her.  Would he be if he knew all the torture toothbrushing and ice cup holding was for nothing?  Would he be if he knew her nerves were still broken? Best to just find out...just ask.  

 

Ask.  

 

Ask.)

 

But the silence swallows all of her words.

 

“Hey.  Are you okay?” Levi checks.

 

“I’m not,” Mariana tells him.  Words finally there now that he’s talking to her.

 

“You’re not okay?” Levi asks.

 

“No.  I’m not...what she wanted.  All the things she did. They didn’t work.” Mariana tells Levi, watching his face carefully for any reaction.

 

“Mm-hmm,” he nods, listening.  “So, was she disappointed?” Levi wonders.

 

“Are  _ you _ ?” Mariana presses.

 

“I’m not disappointed at all, Mariana.  I get it. Some things...just are. No matter how hard we work at them.  Some things...it’s better to adapt...than to break yourself in half trying to…” he trails off, shrugging.

 

“To them, adapting is basically giving up.  Or in.” Mariana shares.

 

“Not surprised to hear that.  But I’m not disappointed in you.  And I don’t think you should’ve been made to hurt yourself in order to reach some unreachable goal.  It’s not healthy,” Levi tells her gently.

 

“I’m just...such a disappointment generally...you know?  Would’ve been nice to give them this…”

 

“Why, though?” Levi asks, genuinely perplexed.  “You don’t owe them your wellness…”

 

“I do.  You heard Stef in some of these other entries.  They wanted perfect kids. They got us. Least I could do is work hard and…  I don’t know…” Mariana sighs. “I can’t change it, Levi. That’s the thing.”

 

“So, you’d work, and work and work.  Until you broke. And that’s not healthy.  We want you to be...rested and accommodated...and loved for who you are, you know?  Us Avoiders?” Levi smiles.

 

“Yeah, well, until you added that last part, I wasn’t sure...but yeah.  Okay. I just...you know they’re still doing it. With making me go to therapy all the time.  And it’s so much. And they say since I’m on their insurance and I live under their roof I have to go.”

 

“Okay but that’s just messed up…” Levi’s eyes darken.  “So you have to go to therapy to practice going down stairs without a railing because they can’t be bothered to put one in?  Like...when do they have to meet you halfway?”

 

“Never,” Mariana blows out a breath.

 

\--

 

**_Mariana - Sunday, March 22, 2020 - Evening:_ **

 

_ Jesus is here. We watch Dragon Tales on his phone, not talking. It’s the nicest time I’ve had in here. _

 

_ I’m leaving here soon, Lena says. Not myself though. Still.  _

 

_ Maybe going home will help me. I don’t know. _

 

_ I’m scared. _

 

**LovingLink - Sun March 22, 2020 - 9:58 PM**

_ Meeting today with Mariana’s care team.  It sounds like she will be discharged on Wednesday.  So she has four more days to make as much progress as she can in here.   _

 

_ They mentioned another inpatient program?  More longterm? But with the twins’ background, Stef and I didn’t think that was the best idea.  She needs to be at home with family. She’ll make the most improvements where she feels comfortable and none of us feel very comfortable here. _

 

_ I just hope we are making the right call. _

 

_ I hope we can start to see some more noticeable changes. _

 

_ Lena Adams Foster _

 

\--

 

“Does this mean it’s almost done?” Mariana asks, even as her stomach sinks in anticipation of her coming home.

 

“Looks like there’s still several left,” Levi lets her know.

 

“I can’t believe they took me home…” Mariana breathes.  “I mean...I’m glad...just… If they had the option of leaving me there, I thought...for sure...they’d take it.” 

 

“Why?” Levi asks.

 

“Because of things from later on,” Mariana tells Levi cryptically.  He’s going to find out soon enough, if they can rally and get through these last entries.

 

“I just...didn’t know there was an option?  I thought, of course, they’d take me home? But I guess...they didn’t have to.” Mariana muses.  Her skin crawls.

 

“They did have to, Mari.  You’re their child. You deserve a home and love and a family,” Levi tries appealing to her.

 

“Yeah, but the doctors said.  They could’ve left me in there.  For more therapy.” She shrugs. “They probably regret it.  I mean, for sure now.”

 

“Hospitalization should be a last resort, I feel,” Levi shares.  “And if somebody has to be there, they should have lots of family support, from the people they want there.”

 

“I mean, yeah…  Only...parents can choose it.  Or not,” Mariana ventures, her voice hollow.

 

\--

 

**_Mariana - Tuesday, March 24, 2020 - Afternoon:_ **

 

_ This is it.  _

 

_ The last day. _

 

_ I’m walking more, but it’s still weird. _

 

_ Stairsteps scare me. Here, there’s handles. How will I get in at home, though? (Home, not school…not yet.) _

 

_ I’ve fake shopped for plastic food things. Pointless. I know Moms will do that, not me. _

 

_ Also, I’m writing. My name at least. Which is the longest. And it’s...not pretty...according to Stef. And me too. But it’s something. Maybe I’ll just go by Mari now. Shorter. _

 

_ Reading is still a lot. Takes all my strength to just see what I need to. But whatever. Maybe I’ll just read a sentence then take a nap forever. I don’t know.  _

 

_ Talking still sucks.  _

 

_ I can also make a bread cheese meal thing. It takes forever too. So, if I ever have to for real, I might starve and die. But I guess that doesn’t matter.  _

 

_ Because I’m leaving anyway. _

 

_ Ready or not.  _

 

_ I am. _

 

_ But I’m not. _

 

**LovingLink - Tues March 24, 2020 - 7:10 PM**

_ Today was Mariana’s last full day here. _

 

_ We’ve told her she’s going home tomorrow.  She doesn’t seem thrilled one way or another. _

 

_ But therapists here have made sure Miss Thang can safely navigate stairs.  She’s walking with a brace (and a belt around her waist that one of us can hang onto for stability).  B went out and found an intercom that we can put in the girls’ room so we’ll be able to hear if she needs anything. _

 

_ The thing that really scares me is that Mariana’s on some anti-seizure meds for up to a full year.  So that’s mainly what the intercom is for. We want to be able to hear if she’s in trouble. _

 

\--

 

“Oh my God…” Mariana moans.  “They need to stop lying their asses off.”

 

“What do you mean?” Levi asks.

 

“I mean, that’s not the reason the intercom was in there!  I mean, maybe, but I never had one seizure ever, so…” Mariana rants.

 

“So...you think they had it in there for another reason.” Levi concludes.

 

Mariana gestures to the screen and nods, like “Obviously.”  Because, obviously.

 

“You think...what?” Levi asks.

 

“They used it to listen to us.” Mariana says plainly.

 

“To  _ spy _ on you?  You and Fran?” Levi asks, eyes wide.  “That’s so not okay.”

 

Mariana lets out a breath, just relieved that Levi believes her and isn’t trying to convince her that Stef and Lena wouldn’t do that.  Levi knows they would.

 

She doesn’t have to share about times when Fran would be cornered at dinner by Moms bringing up something Fran had told Mari in confidence, forgetting the damn thing was on.  About the phone calls Moms were listening in on (Mari’s half at least.)

 

Mariana doesn’t have to try to find the words to explain how exhausting it was just trying to censor herself all the time when - especially now - she often only had the words she had in a given moment.  So she spent a lot of time just sleeping. Or listening. Or losing her shit, because she could not handle the zero privacy.

 

But you know, sure, they were concerned about seizures.

 

\--

 

_ Otherwise, there was a trip to a fake store aisle (part of rehab) and Miss Thang got to practice writing her name - not pretty - but she can do it - which is more than we could say when she got here.  She’s also able to read a little, which is encouraging. She still gets tired after almost no time. _

 

_ We’ll have to work on building up her stamina. _

 

_ Stef Adams Foster _

 

\--

 

“She seriously can’t stop minimizing your progress, can she?” Levi scoffs.  “Also, how? Okay. I mean...I saw the stairs you practiced on at therapy. There’s like, three of them.”

 

“Yeah.” Mariana nods.

 

“So, how did they think you were supposed to safely get inside?” Levi asks.  “I mean, it’s still hard for you and Fran, both.”

 

“They hung onto me....” Mariana ventures, shivering at the memory of the wide blue transfer belt.

 

“What about the stairs inside...yours and Fran’s room is on the second floor.  (Not being creepy, I promise. I just remember Fran’s Polo from recently…) and I’m just…  What were they thinking? I’m not suggesting they leave you there, but like, I guess I kinda expected them to have made an effort to accommodate you guys…”

 

“Nope,” Mariana shakes her head.

 

“Well, like...honest question here…  Where did you sleep?” Levi asks horrified.

 

“Downstairs on the couch…” Mariana mutters.  “Great, too, since everyone else sleeps upstairs…”

 

“No,” Levi objects.  “Seriously. And I bet they had the damn intercom on you.  Did somebody at least sleep down there with you?”

 

Mariana shrugs.  “As soon as I could climb stairs, I did.  At least there’s a railing inside...so…”

 

“Not to insult your parents,” Levi breathes.

 

“No, please,” Mariana invites.

 

“It’s just...a pretty low bar when you consider that a hundred percent of their kids living at home right now need accommodations and they’ve done nothing toward that.” Levi shakes his head.

 

Mariana gives a “ _ What-are-you-gonna-do _ ?” shrug, because really.  There’s not much she can do.  “I just have to live with it I guess...until I can move out.  Hopefully take Fran, too.”

 

“I mean, if you ask me, that day can’t come fast enough,” Levi insists, looking tired.

 

“Yup,” Mariana agrees.


	98. Home

**_Mariana - Wednesday, March 25, 2020 - Afternoon:_ **

 

_ I’m home.  _

 

_ (The drive sucked. They acted normal. But they drove away from home, and to a tree with broken wood. “This is where you crashed. Do you remember?” Stef asked. They cried. My heart beat scattered.) _

 

_ Jesus and Dudley and Brandon wait outside the house. Both of them help me up the steps. (I guess I won’t leave again til they’re both back. I don’t think Moms want to help like that - they’re scared to touch the big gross belt I have to wear.)  _

 

_ I sit in the common room for awhile. With a water bottle. They ask if I need pain pills. (Always. But whatever.) Frankie wants to watch a movie with me. (A. Whole. Movie.) But I nod.  _

 

_ (She asks, “Aren’t you supposed to use your words?” So,  _ that’s  _ how this is going to go… I shrug, and she turns the movie on.) _

 

_ Stef loudly asks in the middle, “Mariana? Do you have to go potty?”  _

 

_ I just nod, and she grabs just the belt (not me) strong but weirdly. I try to use the walls for extra, and she says, “I’ve got you.” So then, I try not to. My brain still sloshes, and every input slides freakishly.  _

 

_ We get to the toilet room. I’m nervous because it’s not soft floor. “Lets go! You said you had to, right?” So, we do. I get to the toilet, and she lets go, because there’s wall to hold.  _

 

_ I try to move my pants off.  “Use both hands. It won’t do much good if you only pull them down on one side!” I try, but then there’s nothing for holding, so she helps. “You know you’re going to have to figure out how to do this for yourself.” _

 

_ “I know.” _

 

_ She stands and waits while I sit.  I’m red but grateful. I don’t like the feeling.  _

 

_ I finish, and she talks me through every piece. (“Okay, now…  Remember to… Don’t forget…”) I fix my pants. “Mariana.” She’s tired of this. Already. My nerves scare again. “Look at yourself.” _

 

_ I do. I’ve only pulled up the right side of the pants. I watch my numb left hand try to take the elastic, but Stef says, “Never mind,” and pulls the pants down and then up again, not careful. _

 

_ We go to the sink, and she stands more. “You’re gonna  _ wash _ both hands, right?” _

 

_ I nod. Lean my hips against the sink to fix that I can’t hold anything. Turn on the cold water. Push soap on my hands. _

 

_ “Cold water doesn’t kill germs, Mariana. Come on now…with your left hand…” She waits for me to turn on the hot. When I do, “Are you  _ trying _ to burn yourself to spite me?” She makes it less.  _

 

_ I finally wash. The water still twingles weirdly on my left hand, feeling like something pouring over a thick rubber glove. There are ants crawling inside the glove. And the water feels uncomfortably warm - almost hot - even though it’s fine to my right hand. (Cold water hurts even when it’s not that cold.) _

 

_ I manage to turn both waters off. I wipe both hands with the towel.  _

 

_ We leave, Stef shutting the light.   _

 

_ When we get back to the movie, I’m the only one because Frankie’s gone.  I sit anyway and sleep, my head heavy. _

 

**_Mariana - Thursday, March 26, 2020 - Morning:_ **

 

_ I ended up sleeping on the couch instead of going upstairs. Today, Stef brings me more sweats. I have to be ready for therapy. (Therapists come to me now.) We play catch with huge balls. Practice writing. Take covers off bottles and things. When they leave, I’m belittled and ready to nap. _

 

_ But Stef wants me to practice stairs. Balance. She holds the belt barely while I do them.  _

 

_ Then, we stand in the kitchen. I’m by the counter, and she wants me to stand on my left foot. Balance again. She doesn’t hold the belt this time, just watches me. When her phone rings, I hold the counters and walls, go back to the couch, turn on the TV and sleep. _

 

**_Mariana - Friday, March 27, 2020 - Evening:_ **

 

_ It’s after dinner. I’m on the couch, falling asleep again. (I’m needing two or three naps a day now.)  Stef and Lena come in loudly, turning the lights on. They say, “It’s Family Game Night!” like that’s a thing. (It was. When I was eight years old.) _

 

_ I try to ignore them, but then Frankie comes in. So, it’s real now. She has freaking Monopoly Junior in her hands.  She hasn’t played it in forever, because Monopoly Regular exists. But now, I’m me, so… _

 

_ I sit, dizzy-tired, while they set everything up. Everybody talks, earworm-style. The words are the same loudness, and I can’t separate the sentences.  So, it’s just random words and sounds overlapped and constant. Noise. It’s a waterfall of words crashing through me, thundering.  _

 

_ Then, it’s time to start. It’s all colors and reading and money and dice dots and moving pieces. Only the  _ **_? CHANCE_ ** _ squares seem a safe bet.  I try to set my black dog there. Someone moves it. So, whatever. _

 

_ I zone out until I hear my name. Someone hands me the dice. I drop them on the board, and the thu-thunk echos. I cringe.  _ **** _ I don’t even try to read the dots. I just move a random number of spaces.  _

 

_ Stef asks, “What space did you land on?” (Because every damn thing is therapy.) _

 

_ I wave my hand to the space. She can read. _

 

_ “Can you read what it says?” _

 

_ “Muskrat.” I approximately, head throbbing. _

 

_ Frankie laughs. _

 

_ “Let’s sound it out,” Stef says, giving Frankie a look. “Mu-se-um.  Museum. It’s a building with historical things in it.”  _

 

_ Great. Now that the millionth therapy moment of the day is over, I stand slowly. Not sure where to go, since they’re all where I’ve been sleeping. _

 

_ Stef starts guilting me about being an example to Frankie. I sit, so she’ll stop with the toddler voice. _

 

_ I feel myself starting to go into a shell. Pulling back. Zoning out. _

 

_ My next turn, I guess wrong about the dice.  Lena counts the dots slowly for me, and then again while I move the dog along. Frankie whines, “This is boring!” and it grates my brain.  _

 

_ I breathe. Monopoly Junior can’t possibly take as long as Monopoly Regular, right? It has to be done soon… _

 

_ But my next turn, Stef starts cheering and hooting. I had rolled a three (thank God), and landed on something of hers.  _

 

_ “Hahahaha! That’s right! Pay up, Miss Thang! You  _ owe _ me! Too bad it’s not real money, though! I could make a killing as your personal nurse!” _

 

_ Ugh. It’s been two freaking days, and she won’t let me forget how much she helps me. And they won’t let me leave. So, I push the game off the table. “Yeah, you’re so fucking great, aren’t you? Fuck you!”  _

 

_ I go out to the porch and stop. Steps, no handles. And no car. _

 

_ My head throbs, and my eyes are hot and dry. I sit carefully on the swing. _

 

_ This is my life now.   _

 

_ Damn it. _

 

\--

 

**LovingLink - Fri, March 27, 2020 - 9:22 PM**

_ Mariana has been home two days and already I’m questioning whether it was the right choice to bring her home now.  Whether we can really do this. _

 

_ Tonight, I got my first real taste of what it’s like to be around this version of Mariana - Other Mariana - as Frankie calls her.  Close up. No work to hide behind. _

 

\--

 

Mariana gulps.

 

Lena.  Not at work, but home with her.  And already they’re doubting. Wanting to send her back.  Something must’ve happened.  

 

Mariana looks to Levi, her hand hovering inches from his.

 

He nods and she holds on for dear life.

 

\--

 

_ All the blogs I’ve read have talked about how important routine and structure are to keeping a family together after a big change like this.  And in our family? Friday night has always been Family Game Night. _

 

\--

 

“No way,” Levi insists, closing the laptop hard.  “This is the freaking Monopoly Hell they put you through..”

 

Mariana closes her eyes.  “We don’t do that.”

 

“Oh, sorry.  Shouldn’t curse, I know…” Levi apologizes.

 

Somehow, Mariana manages a smile.  “No, I mean  _ that _ ,” she gestures to the laptop.  “Game Night.”

 

“Wait.  So it wasn’t even a thing?  Lena’s saying it is, but it’s not?” Levi asks.

 

“When we were little...like...before Jesus...and for a little while after he was back.  Before they figured out he hated it…”

 

“Funny how they never figured out that  _ you _ hated it…” Levi remarks, still quietly angry.

 

“Can we just read it?” Mariana asks.  “I know what happened. Let’s just get it over with…”

 

\--

 

_ Even though it was just Stef, Frankie, Mariana and I, Stef and I thought it was important to get back into the things we normally did together as a family.   _

 

_ So after dinner, and after Stef worked through flashcards with Mariana, I asked Frankie to choose a game from the game closet.  Predictably, she came back with Monopoly - which is a family favorite. _

 

_ I urged her, in private, to bring out Monopoly Junior instead, as I’ve heard how much Mariana struggles now with counting money.  (And being around the smaller bills might help retrain her brain to count real money.) So, even though Frankie thought Monopoly Jr. was “too babyish” she was willing to play it “so Mariana could play, too.” _

 

\--

 

Mariana’s cheeks flush.  

 

She knows they talk about her behind her back, but reading this?  It’s like being there. Hearing exactly what they’re thinking and who said what.  

 

Of course Lena would look at it like therapy and not like the game it is.

 

Of course Fran would think it was babyish.  For them, it is.

 

She squeezes Levi’s hand and he keeps reading.

 

\--

 

_ The first sign of trouble came at Mariana’s first turn.  She rolled the dice and managed to get her piece (after being reminded which piece was hers) to the correct square, but then misread what it said.  Stef corrected her, and Mariana stood up to leave. _

 

_ “Mariana, Frankie’s watching you.  It’s important that you be a good example here.  A good sport,” Stef said. (Brilliant.) _

 

\--

 

“But how is that brilliant?” Levi asks.  “Seriously. You’re trying to leave. You told me already how awful and overstimulating it was.  Them not listening to you is not brilliant.”

 

“Thanks,” Mariana nods.

 

\--

 

_ And it worked, for a while.   _

 

_ But Mariana’s tolerance for making mistakes has never been very high.  She misread the dice on her next turn. The turn after that she forgot she had to pay Stef for the property Stef owned. _

 

_ With zero warning, Mariana flipped the board and started cursing. _

 

\--

 

“That’s not what happened!” Mariana exclaims, hurt and anger rising fast.

 

Hearing their account of what happened - hearing about landing on Stef’s property - had brought it back.  The comment Stef made.

 

Levi stops reading.  “I believe you,” he squeezes her hand.  “You wanna tell me what really happened?”

 

Mariana nods.

 

“Okay.  So you landed on some property of Stef’s.  Can you tell me what happened next?” Levi asks, patient.

 

“She started laughing.” Mariana remembers.

 

Levi winces.  “Why?”

 

“Because I owed her.  She made a big deal about it,” Mariana ducks her head.  She can’t even look him in the eyes right now. This is so humiliating.

 

“You said she made a big deal?  What did she say?” Levi asks.

 

“ _ Too bad it’s not real money. I could make a killing as your personal nurse.”  _ Mariana tells him, her eyes fixed on her own shirt.  She remembers. Word for word.

 

“Mariana, I’m so sorry.  That’s such a crappy thing to say,” Levi tells her.  “They don’t even consider how comments like that make you feel…”

 

“Why would they?  They think I’m...subhuman.  Other Mariana,” she shrugs.

 

“But you’re not.  They should know that, and I’m so sorry they don’t.  So sorry they’ve treated you like this...all through your recovery.  Reading it like this with you? It’s amazing you’re coping as well as you are.”

 

“Used to it, I guess.  People not caring,” Mariana shrugs again.

 

Levi makes a sympathetic face.

 

“We should try to finish this one…” Mariana says, reluctant.

 

\--

 

_ Stef was going to make her stay and pick it up but I knew that was bound to be more trouble than it was worth. _

 

_ When we were alone, though, Stef and I were able to let our guard down a little.  I confessed I was shocked by how unpredictable Mariana’s become. And Stef admitted what I have been most afraid of: _

 

_ That she might not get any better.   _

 

_ That she might be like this for the rest of her life. _

 

_ Lena Adams Foster _

 

\--

 

“Wait.  So...where did you go?” Levi asks concerned.

 

“What?” Mariana asks.

 

“Lena says Stef was gonna make you stay and help clean up.  And then she talks about  _ when they’re alone. _ ..and how they talked about you behind your back some more.”

 

“Yeah...Imagine that I might actually have feelings about being treated like I’m the...crappy pile of TBI symptoms nobody wants to manage…” Mariana quips.

 

“Right?  Maybe if they respected you...treated you better...you wouldn’t be feeling so overwhelmed all the time.”  Levi pauses. Then: “Do you remember where you went? After?”

 

“Out.”

 

“Outside?” Levi asks.

 

“On the...whatever.  By the steps with no railing?” Mariana explains.

 

“Oh, the porch?  That’s where you went?” Levi asks.

 

Mariana nods.  “I was still in the downstairs.  So they were in my room. I didn’t have anywhere to go.  Couldn’t get to our room.”

 

“Did anyone follow you?  Sit with you?” Levi wonders, concerned.

 

“No, Fran…  They told her not to...and so...I just sat out there.  They kept looking out the window.”

 

“Fran?” Levi asks.

 

“Just them.” Mariana amends.

 

“Just Stef and Lena were looking out the window.” Levi realizes.

 

“I just kept...waiting.  When Jesus used to… I mean, they used to talk to him out there.  Every night. Just them. And him. They’d listen. They’d take time.  I kept waiting. You know, for the same? But they never…”

 

“They never came outside to sit with you?” Levi looks stunned.  “To apologize? To listen?”

 

“No.  I just...whatever until it got too cold.  Then I came in. By then, they were gone. The game was gone.  Lights were off. So I just...came in. Locked the door. Fell asleep on the couch.”

 

“That sounds so lonely.  I’m sorry.” Levi apologizes.

 

“Hey, you didn’t do it,” Mariana waves off his words.

 

“I know that.  But my mom would’ve gone after me.  My dad definitely would’ve. You know?”

 

“Why?” Mariana wonders.

 

“Like you’re saying.  The thing they did with Jesus.  That. They’d wanna check in with me.  See what was going on. To be clear, they wouldn’t have said any nonsense about how much they should get paid to take care of me.  So…”

 

“Yeah…  Do you know…  Did your dad ever....resent people?” Mariana asks carefully.

 

“How do you mean?” Levi checks.

 

“Like...I know he’s this great guy.  And I’m not trying to whatever his memory.  But it...can be so hard...when you see your twin treated one way.  And then you’re in trouble. Some of the same symptoms. But no one comes.”

 

“You resent that they cared for Jesus but not for you,” Levi clarifies.

 

Mariana nods.  “I mean, they should.  I’m not saying Jesus didn’t need it.  He did. Just…”

 

“Why not you?” Levi finishes.  “Why not you, too?” He pauses.  “Dad wasn’t perfect. He had bad days.  Days where he hated being sick. But I think it was a bit different because we all respected each other equally.”  Levi goes quiet, thinking.  

 

“What?” Mariana asks.

 

“Nothing…  Just… I was thinking if anybody resented anybody?  I think I kinda resented him? For dying? I know he couldn’t help it, and that’s horrible and it’s not really the same thing.  I just...I never really let myself believe that he’d actually die without figuring it out… What happened to me… And then he did, and I just…”

 

“You didn’t have anybody,” Mariana finishes, sad.  “Neither of us did.”

 

“It’s weird, right?” Levi asks.  “To think that this was happening to you at the same time as all those lost months were happening to me.  Because after we lost him, I didn’t really know what to do with myself. I’d graduated the June before. And just...for the first time...I didn’t have school.  Or Dad. I just...had Mom and me and that house. That living room. Where he… So when Mom suggested moving, it seemed like a great option. I wasn’t thinking straight then…”

 

Mariana squeezes his hand:  _ It’s not your fault _ .

 

“Just like, knowing what was happening for both of us back then...it’s weird, right?  That we were both out there, so isolated?” Levi asks.

 

“I’m glad we hung on to find each other,” Mariana offers.

 

Levi manages a sad smile: “Me, too.”


	99. Shotgun to the Heart

**_Mariana - Tuesday, March 31, 2020 - Afternoon:_ **

 

_ Got moved back upstairs today. Mile marker, I guess. Moms keep saying, “You’ve been home a whole week,” like it’s been a whole year. Maybe to them, it has. I think they want their couch back. _

 

_ The stairs suck. Stef has let me do them myself once I did a test run in therapy. Thank God they’re fit for Frankie - an extra handle Jesus put in back in the day plus non-fall pieces on the stairs themselves. But I’m still half-numb, so I’m not stable. _

 

_ My plan now is to stay as long as I can either upstairs or not.  _

 

_ (Also, they moved the spy device upstairs too. I hoped they would forget it.) _

 

**_Mariana - Wednesday, April 1, 2020 - Morning:_ **

 

_ Fuck.  _

 

_ I got my period today. (Should be glad I didn’t red the couch.) I wasn’t ready, though. I feel like I should have been ready.  _

 

_ But my sheets.  _

 

_ My pajamas.  _

 

_ Me.  _

 

_ I pull my bed things to hide the mess.  My numbness feels stronger, and my head is cloudier and still sloshy and throbbing. My stomach cringes. I walk by the wall to get to my clothes. Sweats all in bags. Granny panties (for easier putting). No bra because I don’t want to. My new phone because Moms say always. _

 

_ I carry the things in my right hand for no dropping. But my numb hand is not good for holding walls. So, I lean. _

 

_ I get to the toilet room. Take my pajamas and underwear off.  _

 

_ But I need pads for after. I look in the pad spot, but of course they’re gone. I don’t live here anymore.  My stomach twists.  _

 

_ I sit, not-clothed, on the toilet. I text Jesus: _

 

**Apr 1, 2020**

**9:02 AM:** Neeed pad plz now

 

**9:04 AM:** Got it. Be there in 5.

 

**9:07 AM:** Up. Stairs. 

 

_ I get into the shower. There’s a white not-hole seat. Handles. But no leaning back. I try to do the water. It’s not warm. But I sit, crying a little. Then, I take the squirt and a bunch comes all over. Gross vomit fake flower ocean.  _

 

_ Jesus taps the door specially. “Hey. I’m here. Should I put it on the sink?” _

 

_ “Yeah.” _

 

_ He’s in and out fast. “You okay?” From out. _

 

_ “I don’t know.” _

 

_ “I can stay?” _

 

_ “Not there.” _

 

_ “Okay, I’ll be downstairs. Text or call me?” _

 

_ “Yeah.” _

 

_ When I carefully out myself, I try not to die on the slippage.  _

 

_ Back on the toilet, I see a store bag.  _

 

_ Inside are all the pads ever. I smile. _

 

_ (It’s a good thing too, because I’m trashing some trying to get the sticking and the flippers right.)  _

 

**11:36 AM** Atill here //?

**11:37 AM** Yeah. Come back?

 

_ When he does, I’m in bed again.  Run over by exhaust. _

 

_ He moves my dirty pajamas in a bag to take back with him to trash or laundry - I don’t know.  _

 

_ He says, “No therapy today. Try to rest.”  _

 

_ It’s a miracle he must have made. So, I do.  _

 

_ He stays. _

 

**_Mariana - Saturday, April 4, 2020 - Evening:_ **

_ I still feel like ass. My period is the worst - everything hurts and I cry all the time.  _

 

_ (Mama laundried sheets today: “Honey, you have to  _ tell me _ if you need me or Mom to wash these…” She frowns at the old stains, and then bunches them to a carrier. She took the undersheet too.  My bed is naked, and so is Frankie’s mostly. Callie’s isn’t naked. I could sleep there. But then, I’d have to see my naked bed. Shit.) _

 

_ Mama’s back now. She wants my help to do the beds. We manage. (Mama could’ve done both beds ten times by the time we do one, but…)  “Good job, sweetheart,” she says at the end. _

 

_ “You too.” (I don’t know what to say, so…) _

 

_ Frankie is doing her work. I watch her. Then, Mom comes. I need to ask her when I can get the hell out of this house and back to school.  Come on, words… _

 

_ “Can I…?” I wave my hand at Frankie helpfully. _

 

_ “Can you what?” As usual, Mom does not even try to get it. _

 

_ I wave around Frankie again - bigger, so she can see. _

 

_ “I can’t understand you, Miss Thang. Use your words.” There’s the fake-patient toddler voice. _

 

_ (If I  _ had  _ words, I would freaking use them to avoid this.) _

 

_ Frankie looks over, “I think she wants to do homework. I told her she could do mine.”  _

 

_ (She’d said, “Mari, can you help me with this?  ...Oh… I forgot. Never mind.”) _

 

_ Mom checks, “Miss Thang? You’re wondering about school?” (Was that so hard?)  _

 

_ I nod carefully. _

 

_ “I can’t hear you nod, Mariana…” (Why does that even matter?) _

 

_ My brain contortions. I will myself to say it - I’m a trash disposal with metal inside. Grinding. “Mm. School…” There. Yes. Good. _

 

_ “Mariana, talk like big girl. Not girl from jungle.”  _

 

_ Frankie laughs. _

 

_ My heart drops. Why do I try?  _

 

_ Mom sits on my bed, so I wait. “Listen. School isn’t really in the cards right now…”  Like that’s it. I just have to stay here forever. _

 

_ “Why?” They like school. Why can’t I go? _

 

_ “Because you have a TBI, honey.  Your brain got hurt, and you’re still trying to get better.  You’re still learning to talk, and manage your emotions.” _

 

_ I know by now that I will not wake up tomorrow (or ever) and be who I was. I know how to freaking talk, if only my words were in their normal spaces. And my emotions are always big with my period! And before that, PMS! (Plus, I wouldn’t have to manage if they didn’t treat me like shit…) _

 

_ Then, Frankie says, “Duh…”  _

 

_ And something breaks in me. Because not only do they treat me like an angry toddler, they’ve infected Frankie the same way. She used to look up to me, and now? She doesn’t look at me for anything. I’m nothing to her. _

 

_ And I can’t talk to her, because I’m me. And because she doesn’t listen when I do. _

 

_ “Fuck!” I scream.  _

 

_ Frankie looks scared.  Mom tells her to go get Mama.  She goes. _

 

_ “Mariana. That’s not nice.” Mom sounds like she’s policing a naughty baby. “Frankie’s just a little girl. You can’t swear at her like that. Okay?” _

 

_ Fine. Stay on track, Mom. My jagged blurry brain grinds some more as I manage to say, “I want...to...go...to...school.” _

 

_ “I know that.  Listen, maybe when you’re a little more  _ stable _ , we can talk about San Diego Community College.  We’ll have to get you evaluated and get you an aide, but we could probably make something work.” (She says “stable,” but it sounds like she means “normal.”) _

 

_ “No! Fuck no!” I’ll be stuck here forever. Because I can’t  _ not _ be like this.  Frankie comes in then, Mama after.  “Get the fuck out!” _

 

_ “I’m not going to sit here and be sworn at, Miss Thang.  If you’re going talk like that, you’re going to be by yourself until you can calm down.”  Mom says, like it’s a bad thing. She’s standing now. “This is what I’m talking about. You’re not ready to be around  _ family,  _ much less the unsuspecting public…” _

 

_ I cover my ears. Cry. _

 

_ Frankie’s gone, but Mama is still here. “Honey, I know it’s hard to hear--” _

 

_ “Don’t bother.” Mom says. “She’s not even here…” _

 

_ “What the fuck? Get out!” I try again. Still crying, I toss a ball of socks for emphasis. _

 

_ “She’s out of control.” Mom finally decides. “Let’s go.”  _

 

_ They go, thundering the door shut. _

 

_ And I’m alone.   _

 

_ I do all the rest of the sock balls, trying them farther each time. Then, I dump the rest of the laundry. Fucking clothes. I pull the tail of the spy device, and it clatters happily on the floor. I rip posters off my wall where I can reach.  _

 

_ I push my tiny table over, but the lamp tail is not pulled, so it shatters. I jump from the loudness and scream.  _

 

_ (The sound makes a memory: Yelling. Ana turning, grabbing us to leave. And a man. With a lamp that broke Ana.)  _

 

_ My ears are full of bells, and the rabbit pounces frantic in my chest.  _

 

_ I stumble back, catching on the desk. Frankie’s work is there, ripped because of me falling on it. Shit.   _

 

_ I catch myself on the bookshelf case next, and more things fall. More things shatter, lamp-like. I cover the shatter with pulling books off. They fall softer, and my heart slows a little. _

 

_ Damn it.  _

 

_ I crawl carefully back to bed. Sit against it. And cry more. My brain throbs. My stomach twists. Heart crashes in the quiet.  _

 

_ Minutes go by. _

 

_ The door clicks open. It’s Moms. They stare. Then, Stef stays at the door on her phone. Lena gets all the bags for trash. They both come in.  _

 

_ My heart sinks. I know how this goes. They’ll pack my stuff and move me - but where will I go? I’m aged out.  _

 

_ It’s creepy quiet while they bag things. Stef brooms up the lamp and the other broken things. _

 

_ They see Frankie’s ripped work paper. Stef laughs once, harsh. Lena tries not to cry.  _

 

_ “Two kids with brain damage in a ten-year span... Lucky us…” Stef quips. _

 

_ Lena adds, “I guess the universe was in a mood.” _

 

_ I’m invisible until they choose to see me.   _

 

_ “What do you have to say for yourself?” Lena asks. _

 

_ I shrug. What is there to say? _

 

_ “That’s not going to work this time. This is unacceptable. Do you understand?” Stef this time. _

 

_ “...Sorry…” My mind grasps the word and pushes it out, flat and feelingless. _

 

_ “You don’t  _ sound _ very sorry, though. You can’t just  _ do _ these things because you hear something you don’t like. That’s not the way the world works.” Lena explains. _

 

_ “Moving?” The question is just a plain word too. Crap. _

 

_ “Is that what you call this? I think this is more than just  _ moving  _ things, Miss Thang…” _

 

_ “No. Am I?” I feel sick. _

 

_ Stef sighs, “Are you  _ moving _? Well, you  _ haven’t _ since we’ve come in…  Must have worn yourself out. Thanks for the help, by the way.”  _

 

_ Lena this time: “We know you’re in more control of what you’re doing than you want us to believe.  And if you don’t start getting a handle on these tantrums, we’re going to have to send you to behavioral therapy.  There are hospital inpatient programs for people like you, who act out.” She seems sad about it, but that answers where I will go. _

 

_ They seem tired suddenly. Stef bends to me, “We are sending Frankie back in here to sleep. I expect you to leave her alone.” She picks up the tail of the spy device. (Not broken. Damn.) Pushes it into the wall. “And leave this plugged in, or I swear, Mariana…”  _

 

_ I nod. _

 

_ “Answer me. Don’t just stare like a[n r-word].” _

 

_ Lena says, “Stef…” _

 

_ “Okay.” I manage. My heart throbs in time with my brain. She’s never said that to me before.  _

 

_ “Okay.” Stef says without looking at me. She and Lena leave. _

 

_ I’m alone with the bags.  _

 

_ Then, Frankie comes in. She’s wide eyes and parted lips.  _

 

_ We don’t talk. _

 

_ The bags surround us. _


	100. 4 Letter Word

**LovingLink - Sat, April 4, 2020** **\- 10:11 PM**

_ I asked B to attach this picture so you all can see what we are dealing with on the one-month anniversary of Miss Thang’s accident.  In case it’s unclear due to the level of total destruction? That is the girls’ room. Which Mariana destroyed tonight. _

 

\--

 

Mariana’s stomach plummets, seeing the picture she had no idea Stef took.  The room, on the night with the garbage bags and threats and casual, soul-killing use of the r-word and comments about having two kids with brain damage.  

 

She puts a hand out, covering the screen.  (They took a break, but no break is long enough to be ready for this.)  “Stop.”

 

“Okay,” Levi nods.

 

“I want...I want to tell you what really happened.  Before you read what she says happened.” Mariana tells Levi.

 

“Of course,” he nods, ready to listen.  But it’s no good to start with the mess.  She needs to back up a few days. For context.

 

“How do you feel about...me talking about periods…” Mariana checks.

 

Levi looks a little startled.  “Um...I mean...it’s your choice.  Your body, right?”

 

“I mean...will it make you uncomfortable?  Is it a trauma thing?” Mariana wonders again.

 

“No.  I mean, it’s not something I’ve really ever...discussed with anybody...but it’s not a trigger.”

 

With that, Mariana starts.  Sharing about moving back upstairs after barely being home at all.  Getting her period unexpectedly. Her hiding the evidence of her own stained sheets while Jesus had taken care of the clothing.

 

“They’d stripped the beds...and that’s...I hate it when they’re naked.  You know? No blankets? When we were little, we either had to sleep in a crib or like...just with blankets.  No pillows. Adults got mattresses.”

 

Levi nods.

 

“And...a lot of times...when...we would, like...have accidents or whatever?  We knew we’d get in bad trouble. So...you know...we hid everything. And even when we were in foster care...we’d hide it.  I think it was the main reason we moved, at least once…”

 

“That sucks…” Levi says, sympathetic.  “It’s normal for kids to have accidents.  Did they ever tell you you didn’t have to hide the stuff?  That it was okay if you didn’t?”

 

Mariana shakes her head.  “Not that I remember. They’d just freak out when they noticed the smell.”

 

“Can I ask...how many times did you guys move?  You know, before you were really with Stef and Lena for good?”

 

“Four placements before Stef found us.  In the middle of the last one, we bounced back to Ana for a month or something?  Back to the fourth placement again for 24 hours. Got kicked out. They brought us to the police station.  I was terrified…”

 

“God, I bet…” Levi shudders.

 

“And then...we were with Stef and Lena for over a year...and then the judge said we had to go back to Ana again.  So we did. For, like six months or something. Then, both of us were...you know...we had to be hospitalized. Her rights were terminated.  We were able to go back to Stef and Lena. Eventually, they adopted us…”

 

“That’s so much upheaval for little kids…” Levi says, sympathetic.  “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

 

“At least we were together,” Mariana shrugs.  “Anyway...not sure how much you know about periods but...aside from the obvious...they also...screw with any other things you have.”

 

“Like what things?”

 

“Like, I kinda freaked out...because all my TBI stuff was worse?  And then with...the beds being that way...it was all triggering to begin with, not to mention…” Mariana keeps going, sharing her attempts to talk to Stef about school.  Stef mocking her, talking like a caveman. Fran laughing. Her own frustration. How, the combination of her period making her TBI stuff more intense and the triggers of the bare mattresses being belittled was too much.

 

She shared about ripping the intercom cord from the wall.  Throwing socks. Clean laundry. Ripping her own posters down.  Tipping the bedside table and the lamp on it breaking accidentally.  Ripping Fran’s homework in the process of trying to steady herself on the desk.  Knocking over books.

 

Then, Moms coming back in with black trash bags, just like all the other foster homes did, every time she and Jesus had to move.

 

Them saying “ _ Two kids with brain damage in less than ten years.  I guess the universe was in a mood _ .”  

 

Threatening her with institutionalization.

 

Stef calling her the r-word.

 

Acting like she was going to hurt Fran.

 

By the end of it?  Levi’s pale. His eyes are bright.  “I’m so sorry, Mariana.”

 

“I just...I remember what you said about the last one, and I...wanted you to believe me here, too…  Whatever version they say.”

 

“I’ll always believe you,” Levi promises.

 

\--

 

_ This is the reality of living with TBI, folks.  One minute you’re having a perfectly calm conversation and the next?  All hell has broken loose. _

 

_ We had eaten dinner, and cleaned up.  Mariana was in a rare okay mood because we decided she doesn’t have to have therapy on the weekends.  She sleeps more than a newborn, but at least it seems to help her mood. _

 

_ So, I had gone upstairs to check in on the girls.  (We have the intercom in their room, but it’s really not enough when you have one that just turned 10 and another that’s 5 or 6 years old in a 21 year old’s body.) _

 

\--

 

“I wish I could just go in there and delete like, massive chunks of this…” Levi remarks, through gritted teeth.  “I figured they were about to act like you had this reaction out of nowhere. But I hate how they’re constantly trying to sell the lie that your injury somehow de-aged you…”

 

Mariana breathes a sigh of relief.  Some of her own tension diffuses, hearing that Levi is actually on her side.  

 

She knows he’s come through for her before.  And that’s a good sign. But Mariana’s history means that trusting people - even the best people - is hard.  Because even the best people make mistakes. And mistakes can be huge. The damage can last for years. Even forever.

 

“No, they literally treat me like I’m the same age I was when I moved in.  Younger even…” Mariana remarks. “You can keep going.”

 

“You sure?  You’re okay?” Levi checks.

 

“As long as you’re not changing your mind about believing me…” Mariana admits.

 

“No.  Never,” Levi promises.

 

\--

 

_ Case in point. _

 

_ Frankie’s doing her homework and I’m standing in the doorway.  Mariana glances up. Sees me. _

 

_ “Can I?” she asks, gesturing to Frankie vaguely. _

 

_ “Can you what?”I ask. _

 

_ Again with the vague gesturing. _

 

_ “I can’t understand you, Miss Thang.  Use your words.” _

 

_ “She wants to know if she can do homework, I think,” Frankie adds at this point.  “I told her she can do mine.” _

 

_ (I wasn’t so sure about that, but I didn’t tell Frankie.) _

 

_ “Miss Thang?  You’re wondering about school?” _

 

_ Nod. _

 

_ “I can’t hear you nod, Mariana,” I insist, like we’ve been told.  If we want Mariana’s speech to develop, we have to make her use it. _

 

\--

 

“Except that my speech is already developed and that’s not the damn issue!” Mariana yells at the screen.  “You don’t have to make me fucking talk!”

 

The silence around them is so loud that Mariana eventually checks in with Levi.  “Sorry. Not mad at you,” she apologizes.

 

“No, it’s fine.  It’s just...why is it such a big deal that you communicate the way they want you to?  We communicate in all type of ways and it’s fine. It’s good. It works for us.”

 

“Because it doesn’t look normal,” Mariana fills in easily.  “They don’t want me looking disabled or whatever. Take it as the biggest compliment ever when somebody says I don’t even look it.  Or they can’t tell anything ever happened. Sometimes they even say it…”

 

“Like...way to deny this major part of your story.  Your life. You,” Levi ventures.

 

“Right?” Mariana asks.  She nods at the screen again.

 

\--

 

_ “Mm.  School.” _

 

_ “Mariana, talk like big girl.  Not girl from jungle,” I tease, hoping to lighten the mood, because when my brilliant daughter talks like she’s brain damaged, it just kills me. _

 

_ Frankie giggles. _

 

\--

 

Levi’s mouth drops open and Mariana’s face burns.  She’s so beyond humiliated. Actually surprised Stef included her own comment word for word.  Not that Mariana had forgotten, just… They usually try to put themselves in the best way possible.

 

“She’s so rude…” Levi remarks under his breath.

 

“Stef or Fran?” Mari wonders.

 

“I mean...I can give Fran a little leeway here because she’s an actual child and she’s laughing at Stef’s horribleness, not you.  But like, what excuse is there for your mom to treat you like that?”

 

“She’s my mom…” Mariana offers, toneless, but matter-of-fact.  “It’s what moms do. It’s not even that bad compared to some stuff…”

 

“It’s not what moms do, though…” Levi responds, insisting.  “I know you got moved from one crappy situation - one abusive home - to another.  But moms aren’t supposed to treat you like that. Mine doesn’t.”

 

“Lucky,” Mariana points out.

 

“No,” Levi objects, soft.  “Because my mom? Is how moms are supposed to be.”

 

“Then why have I had...however many...foster homes included...treat me like this?” Mariana asks.

 

“I don’t know.  Maybe they don’t understand kids.  Or how trauma affects kids. Maybe they don’t want to understand.  I don’t know. But you deserve a good mom.”

 

“Well, I’m not used to good moms, so can we please keep reading about how crappy mine are?” Mariana asks weakly and Levi turns back to the screen, resolute.

 

\--

 

_ Mariana’s quiet, though, so I join her on the bed.  “Listen, school isn’t really in the cards right now.” I tell her gently. _

 

_ “Why?” she asks, and she’s all out of patience with zero provocation.   _

 

_ “Because you have a TBI, honey.  Your brain got hurt and you’re still trying to get better.  You’re still learning to talk, and manage your emotions.” _

 

_ “Duh,” Frankie says under her breath. _

 

_ “Get the f--- out!” Mariana screams at her. _

 

_ “Frankie, go find Mama for me, okay?” I say and she leaves the room, extra slowly, hoping to catch more of what happens next. _

 

_ “Mariana, that’s not nice,” I tell her.  “Frankie’s just a little girl, you can’t swear at her like that.” _

 

_ “I want...to go...to school,” Mariana manages, after endless pauses. _

 

_ “I know that.  Listen, maybe when you’re a little more stable, we can talk about San Diego Community College.  We’ll have to get you evaluated and get you an aide, but we could probably make something work.” _

 

_ “No!  F--- no!” Mariana screams, hearing this. _

 

_ “I’m not going to sit here and be sworn at, Miss Thang.  If you’re going talk like that, you’re going to be by yourself until you can calm down.” _

 

_ She didn’t calm down. _

 

\--

 

“Maybe because you told her she wasn’t ready to be around family much less out in public…” Levi seethes.  “Maybe because you said she’s not even there, when she’s  _ right there _ ….  Maybe because you decided she was out of control for throwing sock balls at you…”

 

Mariana’s stunned he remembers so much.  Relieved he isn’t taken in by the reality Stef is spinning, trying for all the sympathy points ever.

 

“Thank you…” she manages and nods.

 

\--

 

_ But Lena and I know by now that it doesn’t help to be in the path of destruction. _

 

_ When it all blew over and we could hear her crying inside, Lena and I went back.  Lena took one look at the mess and doubled back for some trash bags. _

 

\--

 

“With two-thirds of y’all being foster kids, you’d think they’d know better than to come at you with some damn trash bags after all this…” Levi manages.

 

“Whatever.  It’s garbage.  We’re garbage. Same difference,” Mariana mutters.

 

“You feel like garbage when they treat you like that,” Levi clarifies, all hurt eyes and earnestness.

 

“Yeah...I mean, wouldn’t you?” Mariana asks.

 

“I would, yeah,” he nods.

 

\--

 

_ Then both of us set to trying to salvage what Mariana managed to wreck in less than half an hour.  Most went into the trash bags. (Frankie’s homework was destroyed and we had to write her a note for school today.  A version of: My dog ate my homework, but sadly, more believable.) _

 

_ As we cleaned, Lena and I laid it all on the line for Mariana - who knows how much got in.  But we told her, “We know you’re in more control of what you’re doing than you want us to believe.  And if you don’t start getting a handle on these tantrums, we’re going to have to send you to behavioral therapy.  There are hospital inpatient programs for people like you, who act out.” _

 

_ It seems harsh, and it was.  But our girl needed a dose of reality and quick. _

 

_ Lena and I talked quietly to each other, not really sure what lottery whatever higher power had sorted us into that we now got two kids with brain damage. _

 

_ Again, not the most PC thing to say, I know, but you have to find the humor in these situations or you’ll go nuts. _

 

_ We finally finished bagging up the girls’ stuff just a bit ago. _

 

_ I’m hoping that the fear of God has had the chance to sink in with Mariana. _

 

_ P.S. Before I get any angry comments, inpatient therapy is no different than the rehab Mariana already did at the hospital and if she proves she needs it by continuing to act out she’s giving us no choice.  It would be a last option, but she needs to know it is an option. _

 

_ Stef Adams Foster _

 

\--

 

In the end, Mariana and Levi decided to just keep reading to get to the end of all the awfulness Stef wrote.  When they’re finally there, Levi can’t keep his thoughts to himself anymore.

 

“So...when they come back in...they don’t even bother asking if you’re okay?  They’re just...comparing you to a damn dog and then threatening to make you move…  They were just talking about how with your history that would be the wrong move, and now they’re threatening you with it?” Levi’s incredulous.

 

“Fran still remembers the brain damage comment.  I do, too. We talked about it at the cabin. When we went to your car and screamed?”

 

“Oh, yeah.  And you remember,” Levi points out gently.

 

“That and Stef telling me not to stare at her like an r-word?  Yeah, pretty much cemented in my mind forever…” Mariana sighs.

 

“I’m so pissed they treated you like that,” Levi rants quietly.  “Reacting like that is over the line in so many ways.”

 

“Yeah, but you never wrecked a room, so…  I mean, maybe it’s usual…” Mariana maintains.

 

“Who says I never wrecked a room?” Levi asks, subdued.

 

“What?  You did?” Mariana blinks, surprised.

 

“Stopped back at home...day after spending Thanksgiving at a friend’s house and…  and he was just....gone. You know? And I...lost it… I never told anybody this...but the closest I ever came to telling when I was little?  Was to admit to my grandma that I was sad. Texted her from school. Later that same day? I found out she died. I thought knowing I was sad killed her.  So I wasn’t about to do the same and kill everybody I loved. I kept quiet. And then…”

 

“He died anyway,” Mariana breathes, stunned.  Sad.

 

“Yeah...so it was like…  When you talk about that feeling you get...when you’re so overwhelmed?  Past the point of words? Just so angry and hurt and whatever? I’m not saying I know exactly what it’s like or that I’m trying to equate what happened after he died to what happened with you and your moms…  But I can imagine it. I really think I can imagine it…”

 

Silence.  Birds sing in the trees.  Moms would say it’s because they don’t know what’s being discussed.  But Mariana’s pretty sure they do. And that’s why they’re singing. Because it’s important to have some good, somewhere.

 

“What did she do?  Your mom? When she saw?” Mariana asks, careful.

 

“Came in, took one look at the mess and said, ‘ _ Let’s get out of here _ …’  So we did.  We went out to Dad’s favorite local place and ordered pie and coffee.  I couldn’t eat or drink anything. Neither could she. We just kept crying.  But it was like...we wanted to be where he was...and I don’t know...it kinda felt like he was there.”

 

“So, she took you somewhere you could feel close to him,” Mariana nods.  “She really wasn’t mad at all?”

 

“No.  At least she never told me if she was.  What happened after they threatened you?  You said they sent Fran in to sleep and told you to leave her alone, but…”

 

“They left the bags.  I got up after everything was quiet and tried to move them.  Fran got up, too, because she heard me. She helped me move them out into the hall.  It was one of the first times I feel like she saw me. Got me. You know...since…”

 

“Right,” Levi nods.  “Were they okay the next day?”

 

“No.  It was like walking on eggshells for months.  It was also the anniversary. One month. When that happened. So…”

 

“So, there were all kinds of totally valid reasons you were overwhelmed.  But they just discounted all of it by saying you’re acting out…” Levi says sadly.  “I know you really weren’t. All these things take you closer and closer to the edge and instead of helping you take steps back, they just keep pushing you.”

 

“I wish I was with you,” she offers, sincere.

 

“To destroy my living room with me in Colorado?” he asks, a spark of humor alive behind the sadness.

 

“No.  Just to be with you,” Mariana decides.

 

“Well I wish I’d been with you, too.  To take you out of there. Go for coffee and a slice of pie.”

 

Mariana’s stomach rumbles.

 

“I wasn’t kidding.  You want to?” Levi invites.

 

“I mean, we have dinner later.  With Dominique’s family,” Mariana hesitates.

 

“So?  I’m pretty sure they, of all people, would approve of coffee and pie, right?  Aren’t they the ones who brought all your birthday food?” Levi asks.

 

“I’ll take coffee.  Pie later, though?” Mariana asks.

 

“Definitely.  Pie later,” Levi confirms, smiling.


	101. Best Thing

In the end?  Mari and Levi do end up going for pie and coffee.  Mainly because Mariana remembers a place - one of the only places really - where she’s felt comfortable out, eating.  The smells aren’t too strong. The lighting is okay. And even though it has the best pie + coffee combos Mariana’s ever known?  The little cafe is slow to catch on with the public, which means it’s not busy.

 

It looks nearly deserted today.  Thank goodness.

 

Really, she’s not in a pie mood, but Levi sharing about the little pie shop in Colorado and how it reminded him of his dad has her really wanting to show him this place.

 

“ _ Gimme Pies _ ?” Levi reads, smiling.  “I think I’m gonna love this place already.”

 

“Yeah, you are,” Mariana nods.  “It’s a combination Starbucks...and...what’s a really amazing pie shop?”

 

“Baker’s Square?” Levi asks.

 

Mariana nods and heads inside.  Just like she’s hoping, it’s got business, but it’s not super busy.  One customer is writing by a window with a laptop and headphones and a giant slice of sour cream and raisin pie and a cup of coffee.  She makes a face. Sour cream and raisin is so not her flavor preference.

 

Luckily, Sandy, who owns the place?  Has about 30 flavors to choose from. And at least as many coffee options.

 

“This is different than the one at home…” Levi muses quietly, like it’s a church, not a pie shop.

 

“It’s okay, though?” Mariana checks.

 

“Yeah.  More than okay.  I think.”

 

“Well, it’s Cold Brew Coffee Pie gal!” Sandy greets Mariana happily.  “I’ll have a slice brought right over to the table in the back. Unless you wanna change it up?”

 

“No,” Mariana grins.  “Thanks, Sandy.”

 

“Usual coffee?” Sandy checks.

 

“Please,” Mariana nods.  She nudges Levi gently up to the counter.  “She’s nice. Order whatever you want.”

 

Mariana watches as Levi takes a steadying breath.  Belatedly, she wonders if he’s on-edge because Sandy sort of resembles Pearl’s mom, if you squint.  She hopes that the obvious fact that Sandy is from as far away from Minnesota as possible will work in her favor.

 

“What’ll you have, love?” Sandy asks, beaming at Levi.

 

“Uh...can I get English breakfast tea and a slice of the custard pie, please?” he asks.

 

“Of course you can,” Sandy tells him smiling.  “Always good to see new faces around here.”

 

“I’m from out of town,” Levi shares, and Mariana relaxes with him.  Knows Sandy has a way of putting everyone at ease. Making everyone feel like they’ve just stopped off at her house, and she’s happy to feed them.

 

Before Mariana can interject, Levi’s paying Sandy for both their orders.  Luckily, she guesses, it’s Pie-Day (a.k.a. Friday) which means the pie’s free, and all anybody has to pay for are the beverages.

 

“What the hell?” Mariana whispers to him with a smile.  “I can pay for my own stuff.  _ I _ told  _ you _ about the place.”

 

“Yeah, but I suggested pie and coffee,” Levi points out.  “Wow, you have your own table here and everything. She knows your order.  How long have you been coming?”

 

“Just a few times, but...you know...she pays attention…” Mariana says, settling in.

 

“I guess so,” Levi says, impressed.  “Is she gonna know me by name and order and everything the next time I come?”

 

“Wait.  The next time?” Mariana asks, a slow smile spreading.

 

“Well, yeah.  I just had, like, a little twinge of what it was like...seeing  _ her _ all the time…”

 

Mariana nods.

 

“And it reminded me…  I haven’t felt that...in days being here.  We’ve been at Avoidance for a while now and…” he trails off as their pie and drinks are dropped off.

 

They both say thanks.  

 

And then, Mariana’s stunned as Levi actually bows his head momentarily, eyes closed, lips moving.  He glances up again before she can fully register that he’s prayed over his pie.

 

“Sorry.  What was I saying?” he asks.

 

“You pray?” she asks.  It shouldn’t be a surprise, and it’s not.  Levi’s mentioned church before. She’s just rarely seen this side of him.

 

“I was talking to Dad, actually…” Levi admits, leaning toward her.

 

“Does he talk back?” Mariana wonders, equally serious.

 

“No, but…  It’s like… I can kinda feel him here, if that makes sense,” Levi shares.

 

Mariana nods.  “You were saying we’ve been at Avoidance for a while?” Mariana prompts.

 

“Yeah, and it’s like…  It’s nice, not having to look over my shoulder all the time.  Mmm,” he says taking a bite of pie. “This is…”

 

“Right?” Mariana asks, savoring the first bite of her own.

 

“Wait, so you really come here.  Order black coffee and cold brew coffee pie, besides?” Levi’s incredulous.

 

“I need caffeine,” she laughs.

 

“All right, I’m not judging.  Just impressed is all,” Levi says.

 

They eat in silence for a while.  There’s no music on in the background, like there is in most places.  In the quiet atmosphere and the secluded corner away from windows, Mariana feels like she can breathe.

 

“But you’ll come back?  That’s what you’re saying?” she asks.

 

“Hell yes,” Levi nods.  “This pie and this tea? Absolutely.”

 

This answer has Mariana stabbing her pie.  “That’s it? Just the tea and the pie?” she wonders.

 

“I mean, no.  Of course not.  Obviously, the number one reason to come back is you...and the other Avoiders…” Levi tacks on at the last second, focused on his pie again.

 

Mariana stops stabbing.  Tries to just enjoy the time they have here, eating and hanging out.  But her mind keeps going back to the fact that Levi’s definitely carried her backpack in here, and that has her laptop inside.  And  _ that _ has the thing that’s breaking her whole world.

 

“Are you done?  You know? Reading the thing?” Mariana wonders quietly.  She’s hoping the impromptu pie-date isn’t the excuse he’ll use to bail on reading the rest of it.

 

Levi swallows his tea.  “No. No, I’m not done. Are you?  Like, at your limit?” he wonders.

 

“I’m not,” she denies, even though, truth be told, she has no idea where her limits actually are.  She’s so used to everybody pushing her past them.  

 

“I’m down to read more as long as you want to,” Levi tells her.  “This is really good.”

 

“Why custard pie?” Mariana asks, curious.  “A Dad thing?”

 

“How’d you know?” he asks, cracking a smile.

 

“Just lucky, I guess.  So...you’re really not judging me for...all that crap they wrote?” Mariana asks.

 

“I’m judging them.  Not you. They’re the ones who wrote it.  Who made it public and more than that? Who treated you like that in the first place…” Levi insists.

 

“I just…  It’s so… I feel...like trash,” Mariana admits, her memory filling again with so many trash bags like they brought in that night.  She remembers the sinking feeling. The dread. The knowing. That wherever they sent her? Jesus wouldn’t be going. For the first time, Mariana would have to leave alone.

 

And she hadn’t.  But the fear also hadn’t left her.

 

“Not surprising, given how they’re treating you...but I don’t think you’re trash,” Levi tells her honestly.

 

Mariana doesn’t know what to say to that.

 

“At least it looks like they’re getting less frequent with it.  I think the next entry’s in May,” Levi offers.

 

“Our birthday’s in May…” Mariana ventures.  “Do you think it’s that?”

 

“Could be…” Levi agrees.  “So, I’m not a coffee person, but I’m dying to try some of that…” he says, gesturing at the last few bites of Mari’s pie with his fork and a raised eyebrow.

 

“Well, you better get in here fast,” she laughs, offering her plate.

 

“Wanna try mine?” he offers, scooting his own plate her way.

 

Mariana takes a bite.  “Mmm… Smooth,” she approves.

 

“Wow!” he exclaims.  “That’s a kick.”

 

“So...why don’t you drink coffee?” she asks.  

 

Levi tries offering her plate back but she shakes her head.  

 

“You take it.  Have the last bite.  Can I have more of this?” she wonders. 

 

“Sure,” he laughs, reveling in the final mouthful of cold brew pie.  “And...it’s not really that exciting a story. I was really little. Maybe seven?  And there was leftover coffee in the pot. I knew Mom and Dad always drank it, and I wanted to try some.  Unfortunately, it was the bottom of the pot. So like, sludge? And I didn’t know anything about creamer or whatever so I just had this awful mouthful.  Tasted like bitter, crunchy sand.”

 

“I suppose that would do it…” Mariana nods.

 

“Why do you like it?” he asks.  “Caffeine?” he checks, with a smile.

 

“Of course.  But I also like the taste.  It doesn’t taste like grounds,” she reassures him.  

 

“I’ll take your word for it,” he nods.

 

It takes every bit of Mariana’s self control to push Levi’s pie plate back toward him after exactly two bites of his custard pie.  He eats slower than her. So there’s plenty left, and she could definitely finish his piece.

 

“Want more?” he asks.  “You said it’s free, right?  What kind? I can go up and ask…” he offers.

 

“I got it,” she reassures, and stands to order a slice of the orange creamsicle pie.

 

“Lucky.  It’s the last slice,” Sandy tells her, bringing it to the table for her.  “How’s the custard?” she asks Levi.

 

“So good, ma’am.  Thank you,” Levi tells her.

 

“Ma’am?” Sandy repeats, lighting up.  “Well, you can come back anytime, love.”

 

“Thank you,” Levi responds.  Mariana thinks he’s trying not to blush.  It doesn’t take long to realize that he’s staring longingly at her pie.  A glance at his plate tells her he’s finally managed to finish his own.

 

“Wanna share?” she asks.  “I can ask for another plate.”

 

“No, you wanted that.  Sandy said it’s the last one…” he objects lightly.

 

“Well, what if I wanna share with you?” she asks.

 

“Then, I guess…” he smiles, and takes a bite.  “Mmm. Oh, this is the best one yet. I wish they had one of those taster things.  Like, little bites of pie on toothpicks? So you could say which one you wanted a whole slice of?”

 

“Samples?” Mariana asks. “Like at the grocery store?”

 

“Yes.  Oh God, does this mean I’ve been away from my job too long?  I can’t remember what samples are called…” he jokes.

 

“Just eat the pie,” Mariana urges easily.  “Don’t worry about work. You’re on vacation.”

 

Levi dissects the slice carefully down the middle.  Then he asks, “Best place you’ve ever lived?” Then, he winces.  “Sorry. Bad question maybe.”

 

“No.  Not bad.  It’s just...we lived with our Grandma Adams for two months or something after Jesus came back.  And I just...that was the best, you know? But I feel bad saying it, because he wasn’t there with me.”

 

“Is she nice, your grandma?” Levi checks.

 

“Okay, so she’s the one who kept handing Brandon and Lena their asses on Facebook, remember?” Mariana stops herself before saying anything about pictures being posted.  She has to be careful what she mentions in public.

 

“Oh, yeah, I do remember that.  Is she, like, the only person they listen to?” Levi asks.

 

“Pretty much.  You? Best place?” Mariana asks.

 

“Colorado with Dad.  ‘Cause I’ve tried living there without him, and it’s just..not the same at all.” Levi admits.  “Or else I was gonna say that week at the cabin when you came to visit and we all stayed together.”

 

“That was good,” Mariana smiles to herself, remembering.

 

“Favorite color still pink?” he checks.  

 

“Wait.  How do you know?” she asks.

 

“Everything you own is pink.  But mostly, your bracelet,” he points out.

 

“Oh, right.  Yours still purple?” she asks.

 

“Yeah, I think so…” Levi nods.  He hesitates. “When you’re on your own someday...family?  Or no family?” 

 

“I have a family.  I have you guys.” Mariana tells him.  

 

“Definitely,” Levi agrees, looking at her so earnestly it nearly does her in.

 

She takes another bite of pie and wishes Levi could stay forever.


	102. Save It All

**_Mariana - Monday, April 20, 2020 - Evening:_ **

 

_ It’s been weeks since the trash bags. Stef and Lena let Frankie sleep in the same room, but otherwise we’re separated from each other. Frankie doesn’t seem to mind.  _

 

_ I’ve been sleeping a lot. Therapy is unhelpful, so it’s just depressing to go.  _

 

_ It’s like, I’m me. And there is this gauze curtain thing between me and everything else. I live in this black hole vacuum, and no one else can see the curtain. But it’s always there. And I’m inside it. And I can’t get out. _

 

_ Anyway, so Stef took me to counseling today. (Another way to get me to talk…) The counselor told Stef to wait outside, but I told her to stay. That way, she could hear me talking, and I didn’t have to talk about what I talked about later. Because you know she was going to ask.  _

 

_ Plus, before we went in, she warned me “Leave Mama and me out of these sessions, okay? Stick to your own stuff.” So this way, she knows that I did.  _

 

_ I stick to my own stuff: _

 

_ “I’m tired. All the time.” (“Let’s think about ways we can maximize your time awake…”) _

 

_ “Therapy is boring. It isn’t helping.” (“Tell me some of the ways you have improved since your accident…”) _

 

_ “Everything is overwhelming.” (“Let’s think about ways we can manage your stress…”) _

 

_ It’s one more thing. When I just need one more nap. _

 

**_Mariana - Sunday, May 17, 2020 - Afternoon:_ **

 

**May 17, 2020**

**12:52 PM** Jesus. Happy bday. Can 

we hang out? Moms want a fam 

thing 

**May 17, 2020**

**12:55 PM** HBD! Yes! Be there

soon!

 

_ I’m asleep when Jesus comes over. When I wake up, I tell him “Happy birthday” and hug him hard. He’s my one.  _

 

_ But I’m still so smothered with exhaustion that I sleep some more. _

 

_ Stef and Lena wake me up, ready to leave with Frankie. I turn over, away from them. Frankie’s chattering about seeing a movie. Sounds like actual torture. I ignore them. _

 

_ I hear Jesus talking, and then they leave. I sleep more. _

 

_ When I wake up later, I see his text: _

 

**1:42 PM** I’m here still.

 

_ He is.  _

 

_ We have not-frozen sandwiches. I try not to drop any.  _

 

_ I sleep more.  _

 

_ The family comes in loudly with boxes of pizza.  _

 

_ Jesus and I pick at the pizza - he tells them we ate already.  _

 

_ “More for us!” Fran says, happy. (Jesus calls her Fran or Francesca - I remember that’s what she likes.) _

 

_ There’s cupcakes from the grocery store. _

 

_ Then, it’s gifts. “Use your left hand,” and paper ripping and Jesus wincing. _

 

_ I try to smile, but I can’t make myself like or care about anything.  _

 

_ Brandon comes by with a flower for Moms and a card that he’d sent around for us to sign weeks ago. _

 

_ They loved the flower and thanked us for the card - Lena had to mention my signature. (“Your writing is getting so much better, Mariana! I can almost read it. Keep working on it, okay?”) _

 

_ I left as soon as they let me. Jesus walked me upstairs, and I slept some more.  _

 

**LovingLink - Sun, May 17, 2020 - 9:45 PM**

_ We are 2 and a half months post-injury and almost 2 months home. _

 

_ Another bittersweet milestone?  Today, Jesus and Mariana turned 22.   _

 

\--

 

“Ugh...I need all of Sandy’s pies to get through this…” Mariana moans.  

 

“Seriously.  How is your kids’ birthday bittersweet?  I’d say it’s just plain sweet,” Levi says, making Mariana smile in spite of the horrible journal.

 

“Jesus told me he came over.  That was the best part probably.  Just us there,” Mariana shares.

 

Levi looks concerned, but keeps reading when she gestures at the screen again:

 

\--

 

_ We had a whole day planned.  With Mother’s Day falling just last week, and Callie and Jude not able to make it home then, we had planned to combine all the celebrations into one. _

 

_ But (surprise, surprise) someone didn’t like that idea.  (I’ll give you one guess...her name is on this site…)   _

 

\--

 

“Oh, my God…  They seriously don’t even try to get to know you, do they?  Or what you need.  _ Gee, I wonder why my kids might not want to do a massive celebration and share their birthday with horrible people? _ ”

 

“Jesus doesn’t like gifts,” Mariana points out.

 

“And you can’t do major overstimulating stuff,” Levi adds.  “So this whole idea of a mega-party is just thoughtless.”

 

\--

 

_ Lena and I told her and Jesus we had plans to go to the movie theater as a family.  See something lighthearted, and PG, that everyone could enjoy.   _

 

_ When we told them, the twins just looked at each other, and then Jesus said, “Yeah,  we think we’ll stay home.” _

 

_ That’s what they wanted, so that’s what they did. _

 

\--

 

“So... _ they _ celebrated  _ y’all’s _ birthday…” Levi realizes working it through slowly.  “Without you.”

 

Mariana nods.  “I said. I liked the part when it was just me and Jesus best anyway…  It’s fine.”

 

“I mean, I can definitely see how being at home without them would be super appealing...but it just seems mean that they left you home by yourselves while they all went out and had fun on your day.” Levi points out.

 

“No one owns a day, Levi.  It’s fine,” Mariana repeats.  

 

(As she literally just found out about Moms ditching them for a family movie on their birthday, Mari hasn’t really had time to catch up and think about what it all means.)  All she’s had to go on is Jesus’s word, and hazy memories of sleeping with him close by...and feeling safe.

 

“I’ll stop if you don’t like me making a big deal,” Levi surrenders.  “It just...sucks. Sounds like they make it a thing to be crappy on your birthday.  Do they always put it with Mother’s Day, too?”

 

“For as long as we’ve lived with them, yeah…” Mariana nods, quiet.  “I remember...when Jesus was gone, though? I hated our birthday. I didn’t celebrate turning ten at all.  By the time we were turning eleven and he was still gone? Moms convinced me...to...you know...have a party, anyway.  It felt wrong, without him.”

 

Mariana knows, too, that Jesus has to deal with the reality that he was forced to have a totally different birthday for years, and that the idea of really acknowledging theirs?  Still can make him feel panicky. But that part isn’t Mari’s to tell. It’s Jesus’s. And only if he wants Levi to know.

 

“Sounds really hard,” Levi nods, sympathetic.  

 

“But you had nice ones, I bet…” she offers, wanting Levi to feel like he can share.

 

“Sure…” Levi nods.  He seems uncomfortable.  But Mariana can’t tell if it’s because of knowing she and Jesus have had terrible birthdays or because his own are sad now without his dad.

 

“Sorry.  Bad question,” Mariana apologizes.  “Obviously.”

 

“Why obviously?” he asks.

 

“You miss your dad,” Mariana says gently.

 

“Well, yeah.  And I do. But also I don’t really wanna tell you about all my awesome birthdays knowing you guys don’t really get to enjoy yours,” Levi admits.

 

“I like to hear you talk,” Mariana tells him, blushing a little.

 

But there’s silence now as Levi ducks his head.  “Sorry. On the spot and I can’t really… I don’t know what to say.”

 

Mariana doesn’t push and eventually he asks:

 

“How’d you find out about that pie shop?”

 

“Oh.  Dominique and I.  She heard that there were...like...two versions of pie with lemon in them and had to come try it.  She said she kept getting ads in her mailbox for it…”

 

“So, you found it together?” he asks, his eyes lighting up.

 

“Pretty much.  She only came the first time, but she’s...like...fine to drop me off for pie day whenever.”

 

“Ah,” Levi nods, and turns his attention back to the screen.

 

\--

 

_ The rest of us had a great time at the movies, especially Frankie.  Poor thing hasn’t been able to enjoy herself much with Mariana commanding all of the attention.  So we were glad to be able to do that for her. _

 

_ Came home to find Jesus chilling on one end of the couch, while Mariana napped.  We woke the princess from her beauty sleep and had dinner, but she was in a mood - determined not to be happy - despite many nice gifts.  _

 

\--

 

“They kept me from her…” Mariana comments softly.  “Fran?”

 

Levi shuts his eyes.

 

“Even...at meals…  We used to sit by each other, but there was this...time...that it was like…  We all had our own side of the table. Moms on the ends. Me on one side alone.  Her on the other side, alone. Both of us somehow stuck between Moms.”

 

“Sounds possessive,” Levi remarks.  Mariana can’t read his tone. “And gross.  That they’d act like that. Like Fran needed protecting from you…”

 

“It’s like...maybe I would’ve been happy…could’ve been a little?  If they didn’t treat me like…”

 

“Awful?” Levi offers sad.

 

Mariana nods.

 

They keep reading.

 

\--

 

_ Her neurologist says this may be the way she is from now on.  So I guess we should get used to it. _

 

_  Brandon got us a lovely purple orchid.  Symbolizes royalty, admiration and respect.  He seemed to be the only kid who remembered Moms were also being celebrated today...and they - Callie and Jude - chipped in at the last minute.  _

 

\--

 

“Wow, seriously?  The way they write...it’s like…  It’s like they have  _ one _ good kid: Brandon.  And we all know that’s not true,” Levi mutters.  “Sometimes three good ones, depending if Callie and Jude remember to give them a present or not, despite their own busy lives.  And like...where are you and Jesus and Fran in all of this?” 

 

“At the table being ungrateful,” Mariana says bluntly, because, clearly, that’s what Moms thought.

 

“I know it’s not funny,” Levi says even as a laugh breaks through his attempts at a serious face.  “It’s not. And I do hate it, I just...I have this mental image now, of the Avoider Adams Fosters just...sitting there, not playing your part or whatever and it makes me…  I don’t know. Kinda nervous but also it kinda warms my heart. The idea that you three still have it in you to keep fighting back.”

 

“Sometimes,” Mariana allows.  “Sometimes, it’s safer just to take it.”

 

“And I get that.” Levi nods, sobering.  “Sorry for laughing.”

 

“No, that’s a pretty great mental image…” Mariana admits, cracking a smile.

 

\--

 

_ They all signed a card, even Miss Thang.   _

 

_ B attached a picture so you can all see how affected her writing was by the accident.  I asked him to post a side by side image with a card she signed from last year, so you can really see the difference. _

 

_ Stef Adams Foster _

 

\--

 

“What the hell?!” Mariana complains, hiding her face in her hands.

 

“That’s just rude,” Levi insists.  “They never even try to put you in a good light.”

 

“I hate that picture…” Mariana says, her voice muffled.

 

“I can close it?” Levi offers.

 

She nods.  Can hear the click that says it’s true, but Mariana still can’t make herself look.  Thank goodness, Levi’s not trying to talk down to her about how her writing on the current card was really good, or something.

 

Mariana had seen it.  She knows for a fact. The writing on the left?  Makes her ache. She misses it. Misses how it represented her.  How it came from her without any thought at all. Misses how all the words were there and just flowed out as needed.  Misses her before-self, which the writing on the left clearly represents.  

 

The writing on the right?  Looks like a bomb went off and she tried to write during the explosion - while the world was shaking.

 

Tears track down her cheeks.

 

Mariana hates all the ways they try and try to show it -

 

Their own truth -

 

Mariana, disappeared from all their lives.  A stranger in her place.

 

Levi’s there beside her as she cries.  Mariana can feel him scooting closer by inches, until she can feel the heat of him.

 

“Can I hug you?” he asks.

 

She nods, still not looking at him.

 

Mariana can feel his arms wrap around her. Warm.  Secure. Solid. There. She’s normally so not a fan of hugs but times like this when there are no words?  She appreciates being able to have a safe place to fall apart.

 

And a safe person to hold her while she does.


	103. Long Time Gone

**_Mariana - Sunday, June 21, 2020 - Morning:_ **

 

_I’ve got over three months’ worth of leg hair, but I haven’t figured out how to shave with the shower chair. My left leg won’t stay propped up anywhere. So, this morning, I decide to take a bath. I’ve avoided it until now, because of needing help, but now hopefully I can do it myself._

 

_I’m up early - I know this will be a whole thing. Getting in is okay. I hold onto the wall. Then, I turn the water on. (I’m used to testing it with my right hand, so no scalding. Yay.) The hair on my head is still super short - and I hate that everyone can still see the scar, since no hair grows there. Washing it is easier, though. So, there’s that._

 

_I don’t trust my left hand with a razor. Who knows how much pressure I’d put accidentally?  That’s settled._

 

_I let most of the water out, so that I can put shaving cream on without propping my leg up. I’m cold, and it’s hard to keep my balance, but oh well. Shaving is the slowest. I’ve never let it go this long. I shave in sections - the front is so much easier than the back. And when I’m done with one leg, I see all the places I missed. Fuck._

 

_I’m exhausted and cold and not even half done. I hurry through my left leg, watching my right hand shave while holding my leg in place with my left hand. I don’t care how it looks at this point, as long as it’s sort of done._

 

_I rinse off and let the water out. It’s slippery with nothing to hold that’s not wet. And my phone is on the sink. Damn it._

 

_Soon, Fran is up asking if I want breakfast._

 

_“Can you get Mom?” I hate asking, but what choice do I have?_

 

_A sharp knock, then: “What’s up, Miss Thang?”_

 

_“Can you help me?” I’ve managed to pull a towel down when Stef comes in._

 

_She looks confused. “What happened? Did you fall?”_

 

_“No. I can’t get out…” I admit, my cheeks warm._

 

_Stef looks disappointed. “Okay, come on…be careful…” She sits on the edge of the tub. She steadies me under the arms as I slowly stand.  She stands too, and then she waits for me to step over the side of the tub._

 

_“Are you okay?” she checks, once I’m sitting on the toilet. I nod. “Why didn’t you use your shower with the shower chair?” I shrug. “That’s why it’s there, Mariana. Why did we buy it if you’re not going to use it?” She sounds like I should know better than taking a bath. Like I’m not allowed anymore - because there’s a shower chair now._

 

_“You’re good now, right? You can get dressed by yourself, can’t you?” Stef’s not looking at me, rubbing her back._

 

_“Yeah. Thanks. I got it.”_

 

_I have to._

 

**_LovingLink - Sun. June 21, 2020 - 7:22 PM_ **

_Apparently, today is the first day of summer.  (And Father’s Day, the favorite holiday of lesbian moms everywhere, am I right?)  You can’t see it, but I am rolling my eyes right now._

 

_I feel like we have been running ever since Frankie and I have been done with school on the 9th.  There has been no time, between having both Frankie and Mariana both home._

 

_Our days have been a circuitous repetition of “I’m bored” (Frankie) and rousing Mariana from one of her many naps to insist she do therapy.  (Over two months since the accident and we are still treated to her inappropriate outbursts with regularity.)_

 

_Suffice it to say, things are stressful.  Stef and I regularly question the decision to take Mariana home from rehab when we did.  It seems that she could have used quite a bit more time with the structure and the people who knew how to get results from her._

 

_That’s all I have time for, as Frankie needs help getting out of the tub.  (At least she is small enough to help without throwing out my back… Small miracles, right?)_

 

_Lena Adams Foster_

 

\--

 

It’s taken a long time for Mariana and Levi to start up reading again after the last entry.  Seeing the Mother’s Day card and such strong evidence of just how changed she is. Just how different she is as a person.

 

Levi hasn’t rushed her at all or made a big deal about her crying all over him.  (She’s pretty sure he cried a little, too, which makes her feel oddly better. Like her sadness is valid.)

 

The afternoon is creeping along though.  It’s getting later. The sun is moving across the sky and all those things.  She’s gotten so nervous about time that she asked Levi to scroll ahead and check how many more entries they have to get through.

 

“Five,” he says.  “Looks like one a month, through September, and then one the next March and that’s it.”

 

“The June one sucked a little less…” she says, trying to look on the bright side.  “No pictures.”

 

Levi blinks.  A shadow’s there and gone so fast that anyone else might have missed it.  Anyone who hasn’t lived with trauma for a lifetime would have. But Mariana sees.  

 

“You okay?” she asks, soft.

 

“Pictures...are so violating…” he says, and it’s like he’s faraway.  Mariana remembers that, like Jesus, Levi also has picture-related triggers.

 

“Yeah, they can be,” she nods.  “Did I…?”

 

He’s here again, focused on her, as he says, “Hey…  It’s always there. And it’s… It’s more what they did to you.  Less about you mentioning it.”

 

“So…?” Mariana asks, lost in his verbose explanation.

 

“So, no.  You didn’t,” he reassures.

 

“Sorry.  You know.  That all this is about them, and they’re so...like her…” Mariana apologizes.  

 

(She’s embarrassed for Fran right now, but scared to even mention it, because of course it involves the bathroom and Moms being in there.  And that might not be good for Levi’s trauma either.)

 

“I hope…” Mariana starts and stops.  Starts again: “I hope...Fran never reads this…”

 

“We’re deleting it when we’re done, so she can’t, right?” Levi asks.

 

“Yeah, but I still want a copy.  Proof. And she can be sneaky,” Mariana allows.  “I just...hate that they don’t even think about how…”

 

“Your privacy’s being violated a million different ways?” Levi wonders.

 

“And apparently, they’re still having second thoughts about sending me away.  So, that’s great.” Mariana mutters, sarcastic.

 

“Yeah,” Levi agrees, in a similar tone.  “Gotta love the continued mention of ‘inappropriate outbursts.’  Sounds like they just hate being called out… They shouldn’t do that.  Keep talking about sending you back.”

 

“But they did,” Mariana objects. “And also, apparently, I’m so fat that Stef threw her back out trying to help me…  I lost like, ten pounds, or something when… Not weight I had to lose....so…”

 

“So, they’re just being mean,” Levi concludes.

 

“Basically…” Mariana answers.  “I guess I should be glad they’re not including like, whatever-many details about me showering…  Or how Stef, like… You the thing with police and crime?”

 

“The thing with police and crime?” Levi echoes.  “Stef did this thing?”

 

“Like, what it’s called when you…  I don’t know. I don’t know how to even say it.” Mariana admits.

 

“Hey.  I’m with you.  We still have time, you know?  You wanted to tell me something Stef…  So, was it something she said, or did?” he asks.

 

“Said.  _How_ she said it,” Mariana clarifies.

 

“So, she said something to you that sounded some kinda way,” Levi nods, following.  “And this had to do with showering?”

 

Mariana nods.  “I was...not showering.”

 

“You weren’t?” Levi asks.  “Okay. Maybe I’m confused.  Sorry.”

 

“No, I mean, the other one.  Not showering but…” Mariana trails off, hoping he can fill in the word himself.

 

“Ah.  Okay, yeah,” he nods.  “Go on. I mean, if you want to.  Can. I’ll help.”

 

“So, I had the thing.  Chair. For in there. But it was like this,” Mariana gestures to the precarious Avoidance picnic table bench.

 

“You had a shower chair…” Levi starts out slowly.

 

Mariana nods.

 

“But it didn’t have a back?” he asks, looking worried.  “Kinda like these benches?”

 

“Exactly.” Mariana nods.

 

“Okay, so it makes sense to me right away why you would’ve chosen the non-showering option,” he nods.

 

“I needed help, though,” Mariana continues.

 

“Right,” Levi nods.  “Wait. They had a chair for you...did they have a bar?  Do they? Like, to steady yourselves getting in and out?”

 

“I needed help.  Fran needed help,” Mariana reminds.

 

“So, no bar,” Levi looks annoyed.

 

“So, she’s like…’ _You have a shower chair.  Why aren’t you using it?_ ’” Mariana remembers, grimacing.

 

“This is Stef again now?” Levi checks.  At Mariana’s nod, he realizes. “She’s accusing you.  That’s the police-crime thing you were talking about. Right?”

 

“Yes!  Like, just because I have a crappy version of the thing doesn’t mean I wanna use it!” Mariana insists.

 

“She’s accusing you of not using the crappy shower bench because she doesn’t wanna help you herself.  That’s the real issue,” Levi remarks, stoic.

 

“I felt crappy…” Mariana admits.

 

“Of course you would,” Levi nods.  “She made you feel like you’re not allowed to bathe because she got you a junky shower chair…  I still can’t with the fact that with you and Fran both living there and needing this stuff, your shower chair doesn’t have a back and there’s no bar on the tub…”

 

“None in front of the house.  Jesus had to modify our stair railing when Fran was four, after she almost fell on her head down them…  Why would they bother with bathroom things? Unsightly…” Mariana mutters, imagining Moms’ words about it.  “How do you know about this stuff? Did your dad need it?”

 

Levi nods.

 

“You helped?” Mariana asks, carefully, not looking at him, aware that what they’re discussing is super personal.

 

“Let me put it this way, I made damn sure I ordered him a solid chair with a back and got some folks from church to help me install some grab bars.  But even with all that? I wanted to be sure he was safe getting out. There were a couple times he called out to me and I gave him a hand.”

 

“No guilt?” Mariana checks.

 

“No.  People gotta be clean.  Why guilt them?” Levi checks.

 

“What if he wasn’t using the shower thing?” Mariana wonders.

 

“Well, for a while, he didn’t.  I didn’t like it. Mom didn’t like it, but it was his choice.” Levi nods.

 

“You didn’t like it because you didn’t want to have to help him,” Mariana concludes.

 

“No.  We didn’t like it because we were afraid he could get really hurt without the added stability.  But we understood it was his call.”

 

“I had to shave…” Mariana admits, soft.

 

“Well, how did your mom expect you to do that sitting on a backless shower bench?” Levi asks.  “It’s not your fault. You can choose to use accommodations or not. They’re not your only option.  Especially not when the rest of us have so many options. It’s not fair to corner you into one and expect you to use it forever.  Especially if it doesn’t work for you.”

 

“You,” she says.

 

He waits.  (She loves that.)

 

“Are my favorite,” she finishes.

 

“Favorite what?” he asks.

 

“Human,” she concludes, sure.

 

“Oh,” he says, eyebrows raised.  He seems surprised. Happy. “Well, that works out great, because you’re mine.”


	104. Go

**_Mariana - Saturday, July 11, 2020 - Afternoon:_ **

 

_ I hate that they can still make me do things. Spending almost 5 hours in the car today is the last freaking thing I want to do. But they won’t leave me alone, and Jesus is doing some support group thing, so.  _

 

_ Me. In a car. With Moms and Fran. Because it’s Callie’s birthday, and they want to surprise her. _

 

_ It’s bright, and the radio is blaring, and Moms are attempting to sing. Fran has her headphones, and I’ve never been so jealous of them. My sunglasses aren’t prescription, so it’s either risk a headache from eye strain or wear my regular glasses and get blinded and headached that way.  _

 

_ Jesus has said that he can’t sleep in cars. And it turns out that, like everything else, even sleeping in a car is harder after you crash one and break your brain.  _

 

_ The sloshing gets worse if I’m moving with my eyes closed, first of all.  _

 

_ Then, I’m stuck either trying to sleep propped up on my numb hand / arm (still numb, despite endless toothbrush sessions). Usually, my elbow will slip off the armrest. Then, my head hits the window or I jerk awake. And my heart speeds off like a scared rabbit.  Or I try for a split-second to sleep leaning on my right side - where my scar is. And people tell me that my brain doesn’t feel pain. But months later, I can’t put any pressure on that side of my head without paying for it. So, whatever. _

 

_ No sleeping. No sunglasses. No headphones. Radio. Singing, if you can call it that. Moving vehicle.   _

 

_ I try to just block it all out. I can’t even text, though. The movement plus all the noise. _

 

_ At least we’re almost there.  _

 

_ I close my eyes and try to run the words in my head:  _ Happy birthday, Callie… Happy birthday, Callie… __

 

_ Inflection costs me extra. It’s bonus - not included with the words.  _

 

_ I imagine each different word with a pink, purple, blue balloon attached - floating up. I wish it were that easy.  _

 

_ Really, though, I’m under each word balloon, willing it to stay in the air - waving my arms and blowing at them.  _

 

_ I picture them floating, but really, they’re lead balloons: _

 

Happy birthday _ is a common phrase. 1 pound. _

 

_ Several syllables, though. 6 pounds. _

 

_ Plus, a name. Names still suck. 5 pounds.  _

 

_ Add in a headache - 5 pounds. _

 

_ Fatigue - 10 pounds. _

 

_ And the movement and overstimulation and trauma (yes, I said it) over a 2+ hour car trip - 30 pounds _

 

_ But, because it’s nice and expected or whatever, let’s freaking worry about inflection. Force my voice out of its now-natural flatness. That’s at least 15 more pounds.  _

 

_ Three little words that weigh so much. _

 

_ I take a deep breath as we turn into Callie’s parking lot.  _

 

**Happy birthday, Callie!**

 

_ I pull the lead balloons behind me. I hope the words do not leave me.  _

 

**Happy birthday, Callie!**

 

_ Do it right, and no one will even notice... _

 

**_Saturday, July 11, 2020 - 10:06 PM_ **

_ She does not get mentioned here much, but our rockstar, Callie turned 23 today! _

 

_ Stef and I, Fran and Mariana drove out to surprise her.  And she was definitely surprised. We love her so much and she has been through so much this year with Mariana’s accident and recovery that it was good to take this opportunity to really build her up with presents, her favorite cake and some solid quality time. _

 

_ As this blog is about Mariana, I suppose an update is in order.  It’s only been about three weeks since our last update so not much has changed.  Though she is not so surly anymore, now she seems much more withdrawn and depressed. _

 

_ The doctors say depression is expected after a brain injury - all the chemistry changing due to the injury, surgery, etc.  We are trying to do what we can to make sure she gets out and about, and doesn’t just stay home and veg out in front of the laptop / Netflix, but that does seem to be her preferred way to spend time these days. _

 

_ We are past the four month mark.  I’m worried about plateauing. That’s what the doctors call it when the rapid progress slows and a patient makes only minor improvements.  Mariana does not seem concerned about herself longterm, she seems only able to focus on right now. _

 

_ Sorry about the lack of updates, but the summer does mean lots of birthdays in the Adams Foster home and we will at least update about those. _

 

_ Lena Adams Foster _

 

\--

 

“Yeah, you’re so concerned about me…” Mariana mutters, once Levi finishes reading Lena’s July update.  “You’d rather give updates on literally anybody else in the family, but me.”

 

Levi’s quiet, thinking.  “So...they know you’re depressed.  They know  _ why  _ you’re depressed, but they’re not about to do anything about it?  I can’t with that.”

 

“I mean, I had therapy….like...counseling?  But...even then, I couldn’t talk about anything that was really happening.”

 

“I mean, my folks…  They didn’t know the real reason...but they definitely picked up on my being depressed after everything.  Dad made a point to spend more time with me. Tried to just be there. Ask me how I was feeling and stuff.  I couldn’t talk to him, but at least...I don’t know…” Levi shrugs.

 

“At least you know he saw you,” Mariana says.

 

“Yeah,” Levi nods.  “And what good is counseling if you have to censor everything you’re saying?”

 

Mariana doesn’t have words for that, so she focuses on something else.  “I spent five hours in the car with them...to go see Callie… Radio on. Moms...trying to sing…  Bright as hell sun. I couldn’t sleep and I couldn’t block any of it out.”

 

“Sounds like a nightmare,” Levi offers, sympathetic.

 

“We got there, and...it was like...I’d been running the words in my head…” Mariana confides.

 

“Which ones?” Levi asks.

 

“Happy birthday, Callie?” Mariana admits.  “Because with everything going on, it was pretty much gonna take...I don’t know...an act of God...to get them out...the way they…had to be.”

 

“What do you mean the way they had to be?  Like, that the wrong words wouldn’t be there instead?” Levi wonders.

 

“That, or…” Mari ventures.  “They always… I mean they don’t...really like...my affect.  The thing where they’re always saying I sound like I don’t care?”

 

“So, you had to worry about the words  _ and _ your inflection,” Levi concludes.

 

“And I was in a car…” Mariana offers in a small voice.  “I tried to push it out of my mind when I could. That trauma.  But this time, I…”

 

Levi closes his eyes.  “I’m sorry.”

 

“So, we got there and I gave C this hug and what came out is,  _ Happy whatever, you know _ ?’ she winces.  

 

“Was Callie cool with it?” Levi asks.

 

“ _ She _ was, but Moms...have never let me live it down,” Mariana admits.  “Every birthday...inevitably...they say it. This last one? It was in the card…”

 

“No way,” Levi gasps.  “I’m so sorry.”

 

“It’s whatever,” Mariana says shrugging.  “I just wish, sometimes...they’d try to get it.  Stop talking to damn doctors and start talking to…”

 

“You?” Levi fills in, gentle.

 

“I mean, I was gonna say other people who know what this is like,” Mariana wipes her eyes.

 

“But  _ you _ know what it’s like.  You’re right here. You’ve been here all along.  And it’s like they don’t even talk to you except to try to fix all the stuff about you they don’t like,” Levi says, his voice heavy with feeling.  “And contrary to what they say, it’s not hard to accommodate you.”

 

For some reason, this has Mariana blushing.

 

“It’s easy.  The only thing I worry about is asking you too many things.  Sometimes it feels rude. You know? Knowing how your words can disappear or take wrong turns on the way out…”

 

“Well, I mean...questions at least grease the wheels.  Make it possible. Saying nothing, means nothing happens.  I’d always rather you talked to me than not.”

 

“Saying it like that it sounds so obvious,” Levi smiles, uncomfortable.  “I didn’t mean I’d ignore you, too. I just meant...I know you need quiet sometimes, too, and I wonder about the balance.”

 

Mariana raises a hand and Levi instinctively does not say more.  “I can get quiet if I need to. Like...because you respect me, you’ll give me that if I ask.  However I ask, right?”

 

“Right, yeah.” Levi agrees.

 

“Okay.  So don’t worry about overwhelming me.  And please don’t stop asking questions,” she begs, laughing.

 

“I won’t,” Levi sighs, relieved.

 

“Do you think we have time to read the last three, delete and go?” Mariana asks, checking the time on her phone.

 

“Definitely.  No rush. Jesus and them...they know we had a thing today that we had to do.  Even if we were a little late, I don’t think they’d mind,” Levi allows.

 

“I don’t wanna be late, though,” Mariana objects lightly.  “That’s Stef and Lena’s worst thing. Like, we can wait hours for Stef but if we make her wait like five minutes we don’t hear the end of it…”

 

“Okay, but we’re not having dinner with them, Mari.  We’re having dinner with Jaimie and Michael and Dominique and Roberta and all the rest of the Avoiders.  Every single one of those people gets that sometimes we need time and that’s okay. They’re not gonna give you a hard time for it,” Levi takes his own time explaining.

 

And it’s not that Mariana forgot.  (She loves that Levi knows that.) More that her trauma has been in overdrive for these past...however long it’s been since they’ve found this awful thing and started reading it.  It helps to be reminded of what’s actually happening.

 

Reading this much of Moms is messing with her head, definitely.

 

“Sorry.  It’s like they’re here,” Mariana grimaces.

 

“Getting inside your mind?” Levi guesses.  

 

She nods.

 

“Yeah...those kinda people have a way of doing that,” he says, apologetic.

 

“What do you do?” she asks, studying her own hands.

 

“Look at me?” he asks, soft.

 

She does, squinting behind her sunglasses.

 

“What’s real is you and me.  At Avoidance. You’re safe with me and I’m safe with you.  We’ve got each other’s backs. Yeah, we’re reading about them.  But look around…” he encourages.

 

Mariana glances.  

 

Still no one but them.

 

“They’re not here.” Levi says.  “So, let’s breathe. And slow down,” he urges.  “Because no one’s after us. We’re okay here. And this is not the only day we can do this, Mariana.  If you need to stop, we can read the rest of it another time.”

 

“No.  If I stop, I won’t come back to it.  I need to know. And you promised, Levi.  You gave me your word…”

 

“Mariana,” Levi says, admirably calm.  “I hear you. I won’t stop if you don’t want to.  I know this is important. I’m just...I know that limits can change.  What was fine five minutes ago might not be now. I’m giving you lots of opportunities to tell me, just in case you changed your mind.”

 

“Got it,” Mariana manages.  But she doesn’t feel like she has anything.  Nothing but anxiety running in her veins. It’s not a good feeling.

 

It might even break her apart.

 

“You know, the last time I saw her?” Levi asks quietly.  “Talking to you was the thing that really helped. Not saying you have to talk just...I’m here.  If you need me.”

 

“Mm-hmm,” Mariana manages, trying to hide the tears.

 

“You need me?” Levi asks, so gently.

 

Mariana nods.  She has no idea what it is about this mundane ass journal entry that’s doing this to her after all the other worse ones.

 

“I’m here,” Levi says.  “I’m not leaving.”

 

Mariana can’t look at him.  Doesn’t even know why she’s crying right now.

 

But Levi stays, just like he said he would.


	105. Isolation

**_Mariana - Monday, August 31, 2020 - Afternoon:_ **

 

_ Everything and everyone has moved on.  _

 

_ They’re just going about their lives.   _

 

_ And I’m just...here.  Existing.  _

 

_ I feel separated from myself. Even thinking inside my head can take work. Trying to find the words. So much energy goes there. And talking. And walking. And mitigating the constant onslaught of a million kinds of light and a thousand different noises.  _

 

_ All that’s left in this unfamiliar cavern are wisps and scraps. Fake smiles. Short trusted phrases that come out right at least half the time: _

 

_ “How’s it going?” _

 

_ “I’m good.”  _

 

_ “I’ve got it.” _

 

_ “I know.” _

 

_ “Okay.” _

 

_ And it’s like… What’s the point? I could be literally anybody, plugging in random phrases.  _

 

_ I can’t find myself.  _

 

_ I live now knowing in my bones that I am no longer Acceptable. My existence is constantly picked apart - joked about - reprimanded - questioned - or coddled.  _

 

_ Jesus is bringing me over to his apartment more these days. It’s nice to have time away. I usually sleep or watch TV. We don’t connect. Not like we used to. _

 

_ I wonder if Jesus is looking for me too? _

 

_ I’m lost in the void of this new planet.  _

 

_ Population: 1. _

 

**_Monday, August 31, 2020 - 9:22 PM_ **

_ Brandon here. _

 

_ I know it’s been a while since I’ve logged in here.  I appreciate everybody’s birthday wishes and Mama does, too.   _

 

_ In case people don’t know, Mama’s birthday was Friday.  Mom took her out to dinner and I offered to stay with Mariana.  Then Jesus heard about the plan and said she and Frankie could just go over to his place. _

 

_ According to Frankie: _

 

_ “It was fun.  We watched TV and just hung out and had no stress.” _

 

_ So, there you go.  LOL. _

 

_ My 24th was last night.  Moms took Talya and I out to eat this time.  I really appreciated getting to spend some time one on one with them.  Not to be smashed in with the other siblings or Mama on their days. I’m glad that Mom gets that I need that.  Otherwise, we just don’t have much time to connect. _

 

_ Frankie’s update about how it went with Mariana at Jesus’s: _

 

_ “It went great!  Mariana fell asleep and then Jesus and me played games on his phone.  There was also homework. But nobody needs to know about that.” _

 

_ She’s too much, right? _

 

_ So, this updates been a little Mariana-lite, but with the six-month anniversary coming in just a few days, I’m sure you’ll hear plenty about how she’s doing from Moms. _

 

_ Thanks for being awesome, _

_ B _

 

\--

 

Mariana wipes her eyes, smiling.  “Um...can Fran please be in charge of updating?”

 

“I know, right?  What was she here? Ten?  And she’s already exercising discretion and all that…” Levi comments, impressed.  “I mean, if she can do it, your moms really have no excuse.”

 

Mariana wants to say so much, but no words are there.  She looks at him, hoping he can read her face. That’s he’s tuned in to her.

 

“You wanna tell me something?” Levi asks.

 

_ So much. _

 

“Maybe about this time Brandon was writing about?  He didn’t write much about you, did he?”

 

She shakes her head.

 

“Maybe ‘cause he didn’t care to know how you were feeling…” Levi remarks.

 

Shrug.

 

“Maybe you were feeling...depressed?” Levi asks.

 

Another nod.  “Not me.”

 

“Not you?” Levi echoes.

 

“Not…  Not  _ like _ me…” Mariana tries again.

 

“You weren’t feeling like yourself,” he realizes.  “How so?”

 

She shrugs again.  She needs a more specific question, but Levi’s not a mind-reader.  She makes a motion like  _ come closer _ , and Levi leans in, but it’s not right.  All she’s getting is more silence.

 

“Talk,” she grinds out.

 

“Oh.  Right.  Sorry. Okay...so...you were feeling not like you.  Do you mean, like… From the recovery and everything?  Like when you’re feeling out of it because you’re sick?”

 

“No,” Mariana shakes her head.  “So...it’s like...everybody lives here.”

 

“In San Diego?” Levi asks.

 

“Earth…” Mariana insists.

 

“Okay, so we’re talking galaxy here.  I’m with you. So everybody lives on Earth.  Did you? Live there, too?”

 

“No.”

 

“No?” Levi’s face falls.  “Where did you live?”

 

Shrug.  

 

“Who else was there?” he asks, his voice so serious.  

 

“No one.  Just me,” Mariana tells him.

 

“So...you felt...isolated…  Maybe alienated?” he tries.

 

“I didn’t know who I was anymore.  It’s like...I’m still figuring it out.  But back then…. I could’ve been anyone.”

 

Levi’s listening.  Then he blinks and realizes that she needs him to fill the silence.  “So, you lost your identity. The previous one you had.”

 

“Right.”

 

“You said you could have been anyone?” he wonders.

 

“Their questions...they were ones…  You could ask a stranger those things.  They were vague. Empty.”

 

“Maybe too general?  No one was asking you anything specific to  _ you _ ,  _ Mariana _ ?” Levi asks.

 

She nods.

 

“Because, again…  It sounds like none of them cared how you were really doing, as long as you weren’t bugging them.  Which sounds so… I mean it sounds cruel, to be honest.”

 

Mariana ducks her head.  She doesn’t know how she has more tears left.

 

“So, you’re feeling dangerously isolated, and they’re over there talking about birthdays…” Levi concludes.

 

Mariana nods.

 

“I’m sorry…” Levi apologizes.  

 

It’s good to hear him say it and Mariana definitely believes him.  But he’s not the one she needs to hear it from.

 

“I’m sorry they just didn’t care...and still don’t,” Levi continues.

 

“Did your dad…  I know it’s hard to talk about him...and I’m not trying to say anything whatever about your family, but…”

 

“Are you wondering if he could relate?” Levi asks.

 

Mariana nods.

 

“I can’t speak for him on that.  I do know that whenever he tried to talk to me about what was coming, I’d shut him down or change the subject.  And that - I mean, I don’t like admitting it - but that could’ve definitely made him feel uncared for.”

 

“Why did you?” she asks.

 

“Because I was scared.  Because I didn’t wanna think about a world where my dad wasn’t.  When I could barely get through it when he was there, you know?” Levi asks, and she can see the pain in his eyes.

 

“I’m sorry,” Mariana apologizes now.

 

“I mean, he talked to Mom about the real stuff.  But he wanted me to be ready for what was gonna happen.  Prepared. But I wasn’t,” Levi manages, his voice hollow.  “I didn’t wanna listen, so I changed the subject to general stuff because that felt safer than...facing it.”

 

“But you were a kid,” Mariana points out.  “No kid is ready to face that.”

 

“No, but it probably hurt his feelings.  He probably needed to talk to me about it and couldn’t,” Levi muses.

 

“I didn’t want to make you feel blamed,” Mariana says, wincing.  “I was just...you know...wondering if it was common. The feeling.”

 

“It’s okay,” Levi pauses before he speaks again.  “So, how are you really doing?” 

 

The question catches Mariana so off guard she has to think for a minute about how to answer.  “I’m… I don’t know. I feel destroyed. Devastated. I feel...like I’m still trying to figure things out.  Who I am. If I can like me. And if I can’t...how can I expect anyone else to?”

 

“I think that’s totally fair.  Takes time to get to know yourself.  Especially after something comes and rocks your world like this did.  I’ve only ever known this version of you...and I really, really like you.” Levi tells her.  “I have from the start. I like you, but it is totally understandable if you need time to like yourself.  To figure out exactly who that is again.”

 

“Everyone’s always in such a rush...to like...say don’t feel that way.” Mariana admits.

 

“But invalidating your feelings is only gonna isolate you more,” Levi points out.  “I wanna hear how you’re feeling? Anytime you wanna share.” He pauses. “How’s your heart doing?”

 

Again, Mariana has to stop and think about this.  She’s pretty sure no one has asked her this question in the last year and a half, and maybe not ever.

 

“Like...if you touched it?  I’d…” Mariana winces.

 

“So, it’s tender maybe?” Levi clarifies.

 

Mariana nods.  “Like it can’t take one more thing right now.”

 

“Well, that’s good to know.  Let’s give it a break for now.  And you just...know I’m here. And I’m not about to poke your heart unnecessarily.  I get that it’s sensitive.”

 

Mariana nods again.  Tucks her hair behind her ear.  It’s finally long enough for that.

 

“Can I ask one more specific question?” Levi asks.

 

“As many as you want,” Mariana nods.

 

“How’s your trauma doing?” he asks, genuinely concerned.

 

“It’s...here,” she says, considering.  “I feel like...it’s definitely awake and alive and stuff.  Not my favorite,” she wrinkles her nose.

 

“I want you to know that I hear you.  And I get that. And also, I see you,” Levi tells her.  “What you’re saying matters to me.”

 

She raises her eyebrows as her right hand lingers just over Levi’s own.

 

He nods.

 

Mariana takes it and presses Levi’s palm against her cheek.

 

He doesn’t move at all, just looks at her.  And it’s like he said. Like he really does see her.  Like he gives a damn.

 

Eventually, she sets his hand back down where it had been.

 

“Can I ask another question?” Levi inquires softly.

 

“Okay,” Mariana nods.

 

“Have you felt any less alienated being with us?  I guess… Do you feel like your identity crisis has changed or gotten better at all, since being with The Avoiders?”

 

“I think so,” Mariana admits.  “It helps knowing that all you guys have trauma, too.  And Fran and me are kinda the same. Now that she’s not totally anti-me.”

 

“Right, that would help,” Levi nods.  “By the way, I wasn’t trying to ask that question to say that you can’t feel how you feel.  Even now. Like, the identity stuff takes a long time to build. And it would be okay if you weren’t okay.”

 

“I get it,” Mariana smiles a little.  “It’s like I can breathe around you. Be me.  Or at least...start figuring out who that is…”

 

“If you ever don’t feel supported?  Could you let me know somehow?” Levi asks.  “I’m always trying my best, but I mean reading this?  Seeing in their own words that this is how they’ve been treating you?  I just...I don’t want you to fall through the cracks, Mariana. Y’all came through for me...and I just...don’t ever wanna lose you because you think what they’re all saying is true.”

 

“How?” Mariana wonders.  “How would be the best to...let you know something like that?  Without making you feel like the actual worst?”

 

“Y’all do emojis, right?  Fireworks for emergencies?  What if you...could you send me the broken heart if you needed me?  If you needed my support and weren’t getting it? Or even if something happens and you just need to connect?”

 

“Depends…” Mariana ventures, diplomatic.  “Would you do it back?”

 

“Yeah, I mean, if you want me to.  I can definitely do that.” Levi nods.

 

“I just...I wanna support you, too.  I don’t want this to just be all the whatever coming to me and none of it going to you.  That’s not fair,” Mariana points out.

 

“True, but one of y’all did point out to me that support kinda goes where it’s needed.  It moves. It’s not an equal 50/50 split all the time,” Levi points out.

 

“Right but I want you to have support when you need it.  This shit happens to me. It’s been happening. But it doesn’t make me weak.  That’s all I’m saying. I can be here, too, for you,” Mariana tells him.

 

“I don’t think you’re weak.  And I don’t hesitate to reach out to you, okay?  And I won’t.”

 

“Even knowing all this?” Mariana presses, gesturing to the laptop.

 

“Even then,” Levi nods.


	106. The Heart of the Matter

**_Mariana - Friday, September 4th, 2020:_ **

 

_ The nightmares last all night:  _

 

It’s shadows and machines thundering. It’s raining. I can’t move. Mute and motionless. 

 

It changes. 

 

I’m in a huge sterile room. Hospital. An interrogation light is blinding me. I hear the whine of a drill. It’s looming next to my head.  Suddenly, the light snaps off, and I jump. A masked surgeon my age is smiling, laughing, charming, calming me. Blond.

 

Something dies in my stomach, and I’m sick on the floor. His eyes crinkle with mirth.  **He** holds the screaming drill to just behind my temple. It’s hot like a live gun. 

 

It changes.

 

He’s on top of me. Drill singing. Blood warm and dripping. Pain dims my vision and terror dances uncontrollably as my skull breaks open.

 

I can’t move. I can’t scream. 

 

A small brown rabbit in the corner of the room sits in my eyeline, frozen in its tracks…

 

_ I wake with a splitting headache, feeling for blood. My eyes are hot and dry. _

 

_ My phone sits on my nightstand. I check my calendar. See the number 4. September 4th. Then, in bold letters:  _ **_6 MONTH APPT - 11 AM_ **

 

_ Shit. _

 

_ The drill rings in my ears. _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ The only good thing about today is that Jesus shows up to do my appointment. So, it's not a day with Moms. Thank God.  _

 

_ He holds my hand as he drives. We don't talk, but I cry a little. He lets me. _

 

_ Forgotten coffee and sharp artificial lemon mingle with the ghost of cafeteria soup. It grabs me by the back of the throat. Light invades from every window and fixture - an inescapable assault. Phones ring. Chatter overlaps, indecipherable. Footsteps click - either muted or gunshot-loud. The air conditioning snakes up my neck - half of it anyway - and I shiver, swaying. Jesus takes my hand again. And I'm steady. But I'm swallowed whole.   _

 

_ Jesus steers us and Dudley toward the main desk. He knows the person who works there. She lives in his building or something. We lock wary eyes with each other, even as she's smiling and professional. I try to keep all my words straight, so I don't even catch her name.  _

 

_ In the elevator, we're alone. Jesus recaps for me. His friend is Dominique. We are having dinner together with her tonight. My insides sink.  _

 

_ After sitting for awhile in an office waiting room (with Jesus and Dudley pacing for like 20 minutes straight), it's my turn. Bloodwork to check that my anti-seizure meds aren't messing with my organs.  _

 

_ The sudden tang of rubbing alcohol. I'm distant. Small. Floating.  _

 

_ Cold. Pressure. Sting. _

 

_ Now, the vials.  _

 

_ Take it all. _

 

_ More waiting. Jesus, Dudley and me in the brain surgeon's office. My head throbs. My stomach churns. I remember the drill, hot against my scalp. Nick. I shift in the chair: _

 

_ “He's not...even here. Can we go?” _

 

_ Jesus is pale and his leg is jumping. He hates doctors too. He swallows, petting Dudley. “Almost.” _

 

_ Shit.  _

 

_ After a million years, the surgeon comes in. Asks a bunch of things. I yes and no him. Jesus says more if that's not enough.  _

 

_ He says that he's happy with how it's healing. _

 

_ He says how lucky I am.  _

 

_ That I should stay on the anti-seizure meds for another 6 months to be safe. _

 

_ Asks if I have any questions. I do. But I doubt he has the answers.  _

 

_ My whole life is Wait And See.  _

 

_ After, Jesus needs a minute. Says he'll drive the car up. I wait on a bench next to a trash can with sand and stinking cigarette butts on top.  _

 

_ Then, I see Jesus's friend walk up. Her name is gone. I turn my lips up in a sorry pass at smiling. She nods. Like this is business.  _

 

_ Suddenly, my words are strung between us. A little too loud. Stuttery: _

 

_ “You don't. Have. To do this. Dinner. With me.” _

 

_ She looks at me. Her eyes pierce me: _

 

_ “Well, you don't have to do this dinner with  _ me  _ either.” Plainly.  _

 

_ “Okay.” _

 

_ “Okay.”  _

 

_ Then, she walks back inside as Jesus pulls up:  _

 

_ “Ready?”  _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ It’s after 1:30 p.m. by the time we get back to Jesus’s.  _

 

_ We had bottles of water and soda crackers in the car, but it’s not lunch.   _

 

_ Once we’re inside, we silently amass pieces of peanut butter and banana toast. Plain pasta noodles from the refrigerator, warmed up. Lemon pudding cups. And apple juice cartons. (I hand Jesus my straw - he fixes it in the box for me.)  _

 

_ We eat, and then I nap. _

 

_ I wake up sleep-drunk. A wisp of headache hangs in the powdered bone air. The particles are tinged with spoiled-sweet blood that stick in my nose along with drill smoke. I swallow and wince. _

 

_ Jesus sits with me: “You okay?” _

 

_ I shrug. _

 

_ He waits. When I don’t say more: “Do you  _ want _ to have dinner with Dominique and me? I should have asked before…” _

 

_ “I don’t know…  Yes? But I don’t know…” _

 

_ Jesus gets it: “You do want to, but you’re nervous?” _

 

_ I nod. It’s so calming to be with him. Jesus never makes me talk. _

 

_ “Okay. I’m nervous too.”  We hold hands. _

 

_ “What are we having for breakfast?” I wonder. I hear the meal come out wrong, and I stiffen. “I mean… Not breakfast. What were you… For the thing?” I wilt, cheeks flaming. _

 

_ “I was thinking of a picnic.” He squeezes my hand. _

 

_ “Yeah?” I meet his eyes. _

 

_ “Yeah.” _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ We pack a basket together. Then, we walk across the hall with it and Dudley.  Jesus knocks. His friend - Dominique - shuts the door behind as she steps out.  She’s wide-eyed and unsure, but she talks like a no-nonsense politician. Brusque: “Do you remember the thing I said…?”  _

 

_ Jesus does remember the thing. He says we’re going to avoidance for dinner, and panic climbs me. I don’t understand.  _

 

_ “What?  What’s avoidance?” _

 

_ He says something as we walk outside, but it’s lost in the hum of the automatic doors. Birds singing. Cars starting. I’m lost. And we’re walking. _

 

_ Jesus has Dudley’s leash in one hand, and the basket in the other. So, I’m on my own as far as balance goes, because I don’t know Dominique well enough to randomly cling onto her. Our pace is the slowest as a result, but I’m concentrating on my feet and the sidewalk, and I try not to care. _

 

_ It’s a picnic table.  Benches. No backs. I brace myself, already tired. The tone of the conversation is easy and warm, but its undulation batters me. I work to mimic inflection, to think about what to say next and to actually say it, to balance on the bench, to ignore the sun beating down a million watts bright. _

 

_ Dominique has a beautiful cat, and talking about her pulls words out of me like taffy. Sweetly easy.  _

 

_ The light begins to fade, and I breathe - less stimulation, finally. But then, we’re leaving. Walking again. I stumble once, and Dominique steadies me. _

 

_ Back at her apartment, I meet beautiful Roberta. Dominique’s cat. And we just talk for a few minutes - one-on-one. It’s the first time I’ve been able to sort of connect with someone my age who isn’t family. _

 

_ She even invites me back, if I ever need a place to hang.  _

 

_ It feels good, but I’m cautious of goodness.  _

 

_ I get home and fall into bed, hopefully too exhausted to dream. _

 

_ \-- _

 

**Fri. September 4, 2020 - 11:12 PM**

_ It’s been six months since Mariana’s accident, so this milestone is a significant one. Honestly, we had been hoping for a bit more progress from Mariana, but this is what we see so far: _

 

**_Speech:_ ** _  She is intelligible the majority of the time now, except if she gets lazy or isn’t particularly focused.  We are working on naming things with flashcards at home, daily now. Miss Thang hates it, but it does help. _

 

**_Reading:_ ** _ This seems to have come back relatively quickly - although she does not make particularly quick progress when asked to read something. _

 

**_Writing:_ ** _ Still sloppy but coming along.  Nowhere near what her penmanship used to be but nowhere near where she started out either. _

 

**_Inappropriate Outbursts:_ ** _ Still having those, unfortunately.  Stef is usually the one to deal with them.  And we find ourselves going back to what worked when Mariana and Jesus were kids: she loses a privilege.  Or she goes to her room. (Of course, that usually means she destroys the room...but small steps, right?) _

 

_ Tried to talk to her about the day, and she refused. _

 

_ Glared at us as Stef and I talked about the accident tonight and how we felt about it all.  I know it’s a lot for Mariana, but she needs to remember that there’s more than just her in the family. _

 

_ Frankie got emotional, saying, “It was scary being without my sister.” _

 

_ School starts again in four days, so I’m not going to be able to update as frequently.  As Mariana has made her preferences about community college abundantly clear (a big fat no - remember April?) she’ll be home with Stef or over at Jesus’s until she can be reliable to look after herself. _

 

_ Lena Adams Foster _

 

\--

 

“Wanna know what really happened?” Mariana asks, knowing by now, Levi will probably say yes.

 

“Always,” he nods.

 

“I met Dominique.  This was the first time I ever came to Avoidance…” Mariana confides.  “It wasn’t like this.”

 

“What was it like?” Levi asks.

 

“Lonely…  We met here, but we hadn’t talked about...accommodations or anything any of us might need.  So, I struggled. And they probably did, too. I met Roberta.”

 

“No way!  I’m so excited I get to do that tonight,” Levi smiles.  

 

“She’s just...perfect,” Mariana gushes.  “You’ll love her.”

 

“So…  We just ignoring all the crap in this entry?” Levi asks.  “How Lena called you lazy and admitted to treating you like an actual child?”

 

Mariana sighs.  “Don’t forget unreliable, and...whatever that is where I actually made my trauma about me…”

 

“Right.  They’re always trying to make it out like you’re being selfish, but are you really?”

 

Mariana shakes her head.  “They’ve had stuff happen to them before,” she admits, keeping the details private.  “It affected us, but we never forgot it was theirs.”

 

“Fits, I guess, since they keep on expecting all y’all to be the parents so they can slack off and act like kids.” Levi remarks, bitter.  “I’m glad you met Dominique. That you had something good about this day.”

 

“You mean to go with the horrifying nightmares and a follow up appointment?” Mariana shudders.

 

“Surprised they didn’t mention that,” Levi comments ruefully.

 

“They didn’t take me.  Jesus did,” Mariana tells him.  “It’s how I first saw Dominique.  Working at the front desk.

 

“Were you friends right off?  She’s so easy to talk to,” Levi asks, seeming eager to hear that Mari and Dominique were instant BFFs.

 

She hates to burst his bubble but shakes her head.  “Actually, no. Wary. We both were. Even gave each other an out when we ran into each other later, when Jesus was bringing the car around…”

 

Levi’s eyebrows raise.  “Wow. But, I mean, you must’ve hit it off, right?  She had you meeting Roberta that same night.”

 

Mariana nods.  “She’s easy to be around.  Didn’t judge me or whatever.”

 

“That’s so cool.  And y’all met Pearl, what, way before then, right?”

 

“Oh yeah…  We were sixteen.  Our family went up to Minnesota to stay at our Grandpa’s cabin for a week.”

 

Levi winces.  “It sounds so cozy, but I know based on what you and Pearl have mentioned that it was anything but…”

 

Mariana nods.  “A disaster. Really ill-thought-out.  But Stef wanted to go, so…”

 

“So, of course that’s what happened,” Levi nods.

 

“I can’t believe there’s only one more after this…” Mariana muses.  “Feels like it’s been years since we sat down…”

 

“At least months,” Levi qualifies.  “That’s how much time this crap thing is covering.”

 

“True,” she nods.

 

“Hey...will you sit next to me when we have dinner at Jaimie and Michael’s tonight?” Levi asks suddenly.  “Still kinda nervous to be around Jaimie...even though I met her and all, and she seems amazing.”

 

“Of course,” Mariana nods.  “You don’t have to justify it.  I’m there,” she promises.

 

Levi breathes a sigh of relief.

 

Mariana’s just glad he trusts her enough to ask.


	107. Survivor

**_Mariana - Thursday, March 4, 2021:_ **

 

**_11:59 p.m...12:00 a.m…_ **

 

**_It’s noiseless, painless_ **

 

**_\- this detachment._ **

 

**_I hover above the bruised and roiling waves.  The sticky anxious mist freckles me._ **

 

**_Confiscated,_ **

 

**_wholly possessed,_ **

 

**_injected,_ **

 

**_I’m awash in a tide of greedy hands. My godforsaken skin hums. Air loses itself in the colonized chasm where my lungs once were._ **

 

**_Unseen, I…_ **

 

**_12:23 a.m._ **

 

**_1:52 a.m._ **

 

**_The site of a foreign occupation,_ **

 

**_I am seized._ **

 

**_2:27 a.m._ **

 

**_I explore the space above my neck with aimless meat-patty hands._ **

 

**_Do I still have a face?_ **

 

**_Bumps, divots and potholes - all cold, wet and untraveled._ **

 

**_4:41 a.m._ **

 

**_6:32 a.m._ **

 

**_11:56 a.m._ **

 

**_Hollow, I…_ **

 

**_4:17 p.m._ **

 

**_“Mariana…”_ **

 

**_Cadaver hands, cold and tingling, tug my lapsed soul over a faceless void.  Murky and saturated, it bleeds._ **

 

**_4:49 p.m._ **

 

**_“...I’m not kidding…”_ **

 

**_“...up now…”_ **

 

**_5:06 p.m._ **

 

**_“...not going like that…”_ **

 

**_Excavated._ **

 

**_5:35 p.m._ **

 

**_Decorated._ **

 

**_6:11 p.m._ **

 

**_“...swear to God…”_ **

 

**_“...meet you there…”_ **

 

**_6:24 p.m._ **

 

**_Petrichor grips my throat. I’m outside. My scalp crawls._ **

 

**_Car._ **

 

**_6:36 p.m._ **

 

**_I’m swallowed._ **

 

**_6:41 p.m._ **

 

**_“...let’s go…”_ **

 

**_“...don’t have time…”_ **

 

**_“...missed so many of Jesus’s…”_ **

 

**_“...doing this to me now…”_ **

 

**_6:57 p.m._ **

 

**_Hands._ **

 

**_I am delivered, a fetal ball of fraying edges._ **

 

**_7:25 p.m._ **

 

**_My disembodied hands clap._ **

 

**_But I don’t hear music._ **

 

**_Just roaring.  Ringing. Bouncing off the cavern walls_ **

 

**_Of me._ **

 

**_LovingLink - Thurs. March 4, 2021 - 11:23 PM_ **

 

_ Today is a day I wish we didn’t have to acknowledge. _

 

_ But choices were made and here we are.   _

 

\--

 

Mariana can tell based on the look on Levi’s face that he’s more than glad that this is the last journal entry by Moms he’ll ever have to read.  When he says “Stef doesn’t even try to hide her contempt for you, does she?”

 

“I mean...that’s her being nice,” Mariana points out weakly.  “If she really wanted to let me have it publicly, she would.”  

 

“She hasn’t done that, has she?” Levi asks, concerned.

 

Mariana shakes her head.  “Not publicly. She wouldn’t want to dirty her image or whatever…”

 

Levi presses his lips together, like he’s trying to hold back.  “But they’ve let you have it in private. You and Fran have both said.”

 

Mariana shrugs.  Then nods at the screen.

 

Levi keeps reading:

 

\--

 

_ Living on the other side of this new reality.  Lena really wanted to make dinner special tonight, by all of us saying a few words about the day.   _

 

_ But Frankie took her time getting to the table (came all ready for her concert tonight in a white shirt - not ideal for a kid who still spills regularly) so we sent her back down to change. _

 

\--

 

Mariana’s heart breaks at realizing that Moms probably made Fran feel like shit for trying to maximize her time and cutting into a moment that she probably didn’t even know was going to happen.

 

Levi pauses briefly, and keeps reading when Mariana nods again:

 

\--

 

_ By the time we were all around the table and Lena and I started things off, Mariana clammed up and wouldn’t talk.  Not about anything she’d learned, or what she felt about the day or anything like that. Frankie followed suit naturally so we just sat there and ate our vegan chili in silence. _

 

\--

 

“I told Jesus and Pearl about this...at the cabin.  And now that it’s been more time? I remember parts, but it’s...fuzzy.”

 

“It’s trauma,” Levi offers sympathetically.  “It’s like that, I think. At least, for me. I know a whole thing happened.  But I remember it in little blips. Like, sections of an old-school filmstrip.  Silent, with tons of breaks at awkward times. There’s more that isn’t there, than is there, you know?”

 

Mariana nods.  Her head throbs.  She’s having trouble keeping up with Levi’s explanation, but doesn’t want to seem rude by asking him to say what he means without the metaphors.

 

“Did I lose you?” he asks, worried.

 

“Sorry.  I’m just tired,” Mariana apologizes.

 

“I was just saying, it makes sense.  That you can’t remember it well. I can’t either,” Levi admits.

 

“Oh,” Mariana nods.

 

\--

 

_ Frankie changed again and we ended up having to split up and drive because if we went at Mariana’s pace, Frankie would have been late.  It took forever for her to get in the car.   _

 

_ She didn’t want to.  She wanted to stay home. _

 

\--

 

“So fucking clueless…” Mariana seethes.  She doesn’t even care about politeness anymore.

 

“Seriously,” Levi confirms, eyes dark.  “Of course you wouldn’t wanna get in a car on the anniversary  _ you crashed your car _ …”

 

Mariana winces.

 

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean it like it sounded,” Levi apologizes, stricken.  “I’m not blaming you, okay? It wasn’t your fault.”

 

Mariana nods, a little numbly.  

 

(It’s all she can really recall about this day now.  Vague impressions. Times. The sensation that her body was no longer hers but the site of an artificial intelligence takeover.)

 

_ I don’t want to talk about it.  Can’t talk about it. Just keep going.  Please. _

 

She looks at him, begging.

 

He turns back to the screen, resolute:

 

\--

 

_ And I don’t always want to do things, either, but this is what being part of a family is about.  And that’s what I told her: “You show up family milestones.” Jesus hates that school and he was there. _

 

\--

 

“This isn’t about him!  God!” Mariana exclaims. “I love my brother.  I do. But that was him...years after his thing!   _ Years  _ after it!  He had Dudley!  He had…!” Mariana’s too pissed for words to come to her.

 

“It’s not fair, her making this about Jesus…” Levi says, sympathetic.  “One thing Pearl’s really great at is that she doesn’t compare what we’ve been through.  She tries to identify when it’s appropriate, but she’s not like…” he trails off. “Sorry.  I can talk when I get going.”

 

“It’s fine,” Mariana shrugs, wiping her eyes.

 

“I hear you.  It makes sense that you’re mad.  That’s what I’m saying,” Levi restates.  

 

“Okay.  You don’t have to keep apologizing,” Mariana tells him.

 

“Well, someone should,” Levi remarks and keeps reading:

 

\--

 

_ Finally got her into the car and then we get to ABCC and she won’t get out. _

 

_ Cue the dramatics, because god forbid anybody force Miss Thang to do anything SHE does not want to do.  It took a good fifteen minutes (and me actually coaxing her out from the backseat myself) for her to move.  I’m pretty sure the tipping point was me reminding her that I missed this moment in Jesus’s life - and not by choice.  And does she want to be the type of sister to willfully miss out on her sister’s accomplishments when some people would give anything to see their kids or sibs do well? _

 

\--

 

Even though Mariana doesn’t have the memory to rely on, her body must remember this, because her skin is crawling.  

 

Levi must sense something.  He pauses.

 

She needs to block it out.  Block out her skin, the sun, the world, this.  But it’s all here. They’re almost done and then they won’t have to look at it ever again.

 

Mariana closes her eyes behind her sunglasses.

 

Her breathing’s fast.  She’s shaking under her skin.

 

“Hey, Mari?” Levi asks.  

 

“What.”  It sounds harsh.  Like she’s pissed at him.  When really all her energy’s going toward the shaking and the skin-crawling and the breathing.

 

“It wasn’t by choice.  I get that,” he tries.

 

“Shut up,” she grinds out, and she’s mortified.

 

He should leave right now.  He might just do it.  

 

“Did you…” he starts hesitantly.  “Do you really want me to shut up?” he asks, soft.

 

Mariana shakes her head.

 

“It’s okay if you do,” he reassures.

 

She shakes her head again.  “4th of July panic button,” Mariana says, desperate.

 

“You’re panicking?” Levi asks, totally tuned in.

 

She nods, anguished.

 

“Okay. I’ve got you.  I’m right here. Not leaving,” he tells her plainly.  “So, we’re gonna slow down. Slow breaths.”

 

“Fuck…” she swears, between ragged breaths.

 

“I know,” Levi responds, gently.  “I know it sucks. I’m sorry. Try to breathe slow,” he encourages.

 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Mariana manages.  Her skin is vibrating.  

 

(Her mind is on Stef cajoling her out of the back of the car.  

 

Guilting her.  

 

Forcing her.  

 

In.  

 

Out.  

 

Comply.)

 

“I won’t.  I won’t touch you,” Levi promises.

 

“No…” Mariana gasps.  “No.”

 

“Mariana…  It’s Levi. You’re safe.  She’s not here. None of them are here.  Does that make sense?”

 

“No…” Mariana repeats, stuck.

 

“I hear you.  I hear you saying no.  I promise I won’t touch you,” Levi repeats.

 

Mariana’s breathing so deep, she’s sure she’s about to be sick.  But Levi’s there, breathing so calming it’s annoying.

 

Levi.  

 

Not touching her.

 

Just breathing.

 

Just breathe.

 

“Finish…” she rasps, nodding.

 

Levi opens his mouth to protest, turns to the screen.  Reads the last bit, so Mariana will never have to face it again:

 

\--

 

_ After all that, wouldn’t you know it?  Mariana had a good time after all. And amazingly, no acting out over having to get back into and out of the car. _

 

_ So, it wasn’t perfect.  But neither are we. _

 

_ I wish we could have shared a picture perfect day where everything went right and we all counted our blessings.  Instead, it was a day just like any other day for my kids. _

 

_ I guess I’ll take what I can get. _

 

_ Stef Adams Foster _

 

\--

 

Mariana’s nowhere near okay.  She’s glad she thought to write down Lena’s email and password before all this started.  She crams the Post-It in Levi’s hand and puts her head down on the table.

 

She can hear Levi clicking keys.

 

Mariana’s so exhausted she actually nods off and comes to when she hears her laptop click closed.  She sits up suddenly.

 

Levi’s not looking at her.  He’s on his phone:

 

In a minute, her own pings with a message:

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Site is deleted. _

 

_ Google Doc = Hellsite _

 

_ Jesus’s to chill? _

 

Mariana glances up at him.  Nods.

 

She falls asleep in the car and keeps jerking awake at odd intervals.  She has to rely on Levi to get inside. But he just offers her support.  Nothing else.

 

When they get in, Mariana collapses on Jesus’s futon.  Levi hasn’t bothered with the lights. She panics briefly when it feels like she’s freefalling.  Like the waves of dizziness from early-recovery are back.

 

“Hey.  Just me.  I’m just covering you with a blanket,” Levi tells her.

 

Mariana’s asleep before she can form a response.

 

\--

 

When she wakes up, it feels like she’s been asleep for years.  She glances around, registering Jesus’s apartment and the lack of Jesus there in the same moment.

 

But Levi.

 

He’s here.  At the kitchen table.  On his phone.

 

He turns at her movement.  “Hey,” he greets softly.

 

“Late.  Shit, we...are gonna be so late...for the thing…” Mariana insists.  “Where are…”

 

“Jesus and Fran are at Dominique’s parents.  I told him you were sleeping here,” Levi explains.

 

Mariana sits up, glancing around for her shoes, before she realizes she fell asleep with them on.  And just like the promised, Levi hasn’t touched her, even in an attempt to make her more comfortable.

 

“We’re not late,” Levi reassures.  “Take your time.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Mariana apologizes, feeling everything swelling painfully inside her again.  “I’m sorry...for that…”

 

“Hey, no…” Levi says.  “Can I come over there?  Sit next to you?”

 

Mariana nods.

 

Levi takes his time walking over to her.  Belatedly, she registers that he’s coming with a full cup of coffee, which he sets on the end table, nearest her.

 

“ _ That _ ?” Levi nods at her laptop closed on the table.  “That is not how I think of you. Nothing I read there will ever change what I think of you.”

 

“Sorry,” Mariana apologizes again.  She can’t say anything else.

 

“Can I put my arm around you?” Levi asks. 

 

Mariana hesitates.

 

“Okay,” Levi answers, as if Mariana’s spoken out loud.  “I don’t have to. But… You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

 

“I do…” Mariana manages.

 

“What?” Levi asks.  It’s soft, curious, almost sad.

 

“ _ I did this _ !” she exclaims, suddenly.  

 

“Listen.  I misspoke earlier, Mariana.  I’m sorry,” Levi apologizes again.  “I don’t blame you.”

 

“I did it.  It wasn’t a mistake, Levi.  I did it. I wanted an out,” Mariana manages, her exhaustion stripping every ounce of inflection from her words.

 

“I know that.  I believe that it was intentional.  I believe you. But, what I’m saying is?  One bad act...made when you’re traumatized...that doesn’t entitle them to treat you like dirt indefinitely.”

 

“ _ How _ can you not…?” Mariana asks, desperate.

 

“Because…” Levi says, his voice a little strained.  “I love you. As a human being. I care about you. I’m fond of you.  However you wanna say it. And when you love somebody? You can see when they’re being unfairly treated.”

 

“But I did this…” Mariana confesses again.

 

“I know.  And that’s gotta be beyond hard to deal with.”

 

She nods.

 

It’s quiet.  She takes her coffee and sips.  “We should go. To dinner.”

 

“If you want, we can head over,” Levi nods.

 

What Mariana wants is to sleep for a year.  It’s to not have ever noticed Nick. It’s too many things to name.  And none that can be changed.

 

But she can have this.  A meal, with people who care.

 

Maybe that can start to tip the scales in a different direction.

 

So it’s better somewhere.  

 

And maybe Mariana can start to take it in.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part IV


	108. Neverland

Levi does his best to ignore the churning in his stomach.  Just nerves, probably. He has every reason to be nervous. This dinner thing mimics his trauma in a lot of ways, and even though he got to talk it out with Jaimie beforehand?  There’s still a lot of unknowns here.

 

They arrive, and Michael’s at the door.  The sight of it still has Levi stepping back.  Mariana, too. (Levi’s remembering  _ force of habit _ .  Mariana, if he had to guess?  Any number of awful things related to men…)

 

“Hey…”  Michael’s tone changes mid-word, from bright and welcoming to hesitant.  His joy fades as he registers their faces. Their fear. “Do we need a more familiar face down here as a greeter?” Michael asks in what sounds like a rhetorical way.  “Dudley, come down and greet Levi and Mariana,” he jokes.

 

“Hey, guys,” Jesus says, from the top of the stairs.  “It’s cool if you wanna come inside. We’re all here.”  Jesus comes down, Dudley in tow, and takes over holding the door.  Shepherds Mariana and Levi in with a hand hovering behind her.

 

Levi keeps holding her hand.

 

He watches, hyperaware, as Jaimie waves to both of them.  “Hey, glad you’re here. Come sit down at the table if you want,” she encourages, and Levi breathes a sigh of relief.

 

There’s an out if he needs it.

 

“You guys!  Hey!” Fran greets, bubbly as ever, chomping on garlic toast.  “It’s been forever since we got to see you! Jesus came to school with me, you know?” Fran enthuses.  “And! It’s the day we met. The official Jesus and Fran Day.”

 

“That’s awesome,” Levi nods, but it sounds weak.  The smile on his face feels fragile.

 

He’s not ready to sit, but everyone else has - even Jesus - who doesn’t always settle well at the table either.  Pearl’s here. Dominique, too. So Levi carefully scoots a chair out between Mari and Michael. Sits too. Bows his head while Jaimie and Michael say grace.  Levi asks his dad to be here.  

 

To come through this time.  Even if it isn’t in person and is just spiritually.

 

They pass around spaghetti and meatballs which apparently is Michael’s specialty.  Levi’s quiet as people talk. It all just sounds like noise.

 

“Levi, you should try this.  It’s so good,” Fran encourages, stabbing a meatball.

 

Taking a deep breath, and trying to remind himself that Michael made this and not Jaimie, he tentatively twirls some spaghetti on his fork and tries to take a bite.  His hands don’t wanna obey. They feel cold. He fumbles the fork.

 

“Sorry.  Sorry,” he apologizes.

 

Mariana glances at him.  Squeezes his other hand under the table.

 

He can’t squeeze back.  

 

As Francesca tells them story after story of being at school with Jesus and Dudley, Levi breathes deep and focuses.  He came here to eat dinner and talk. So, he’s got to do that. Nothing’s gonna happen.  

 

Not with all the other Avoiders here.

 

“Don’t leave,” he whispers to Mariana.  “Like, without me?”

 

“No way,” she promises.

 

“Hey Jaimie and Michael, do you wanna see this awesome video Mariana took of me when Jesus met me?” Fran asks.

 

Levi’s eyes instinctively travel to Dominique who had to vacate the last time the video was brought out.

 

“You know what?  That’s such a great video, but let’s finish eating first and you can catch Jaimie and Michael afterward and ask them if they want to watch it with you,” Pearl encourages.

 

Levi breathes a sigh of relief like Dominique is.

 

Fran’s sigh is disappointed.  “Okay. If it’s such a good video, though, why can’t I share it right now?  All you guys liked it, right?” she asks, looking from person to person.

 

“Buddy, let’s respect what Pearl suggested, okay?” Jesus encourages softly.  “Phones are cool at the table if we need them. But let’s talk to each other, since we’re all together.  That doesn’t happen often, right?”

 

“No, but I wanted to show them that video because I love it so much,” Fran objects.

 

“You know what?  I hear that,” Jesus says, and Levi catches the wince on his face.  “ _ We _ love  _ you _ so much.  We’re just asking you to be a little bit patient.  For a little while. Can you do that?”

 

“I guess,” Fran pouts.

 

“I’m excited to see the video, Francesca,” Jaimie insists.

 

Fran brightens a little at this.

 

“Hey, Levi?  Mariana? Did your thing go okay today?” Pearl asks.

 

Levi glances at Mariana.  “It did, yeah. We got it all done.”

 

“What did you do?” Fran asks, curious.  “Is it a surprise?”

 

Another glance at Mariana.  She shakes her head. “It’s just something we did,” Levi manages softly.  “It’s private.”

 

“Like K-I--”

 

“Francesca,” Jesus warns.  “Singing that song at people isn’t cool.”

 

“Why are you picking on me?” Fran asks, hurt.  “Everything I say is wrong, wrong, wrong.”

 

“I’m sorry.  I don’t wanna hurt your feelings, buddy.  Just...look at Mari and Levi right now. Do they look like they’re comfortable?  Like they like talking about the thing they did today?”

 

Levi keeps his head down.  He doesn’t know if Mariana’s making eye contact with Fran or not.

 

“No,” Fran admits.  “But how was I supposed to know, Jesus?”

 

“It can be hard, learning to read people and take their cues,” Michael offers.  “I like joking around, too. But there are times when Jaimie and Dominique don’t like that.  So, us lighthearted folks, we just gotta learn to dial it back.”

 

“But Pearl brought it up and that’s okay, but  _ I _ can’t talk about it?” Fran asks, indignant.

 

“She asked a specific question,” Jesus explains.  “Let them know we care about them and wanna involve them in the conversation.  She didn’t pry or tease.”

 

Fran struggles to push her chair back.  “Excuse me,” she pouts.

 

Levi flickers a glance in Dom’s direction.  She looks torn. Levi figures it’s because the video’s at the heart of all this and what if it comes up?

 

“May I talk to her?” Levi asks, glancing at Jesus and Mariana.

 

Mariana gestures like, _ go ahead _ and Jesus nods.

 

\--

 

The truth is, Levi doesn’t have any idea what he’s about to say to Fran right now.  He just needed an out. Breathing room. And he’s not naive enough to think Fran’s gonna be okay on her own, upset like she is.  

 

He ducks outside onto the Williamses deck where Fran’s sitting at the table.

 

“Hey.  It’s Levi,” he says.

 

“So?” Fran asks.

 

“So, I know what it’s like to feel really embarrassed about something you didn’t mean to do.  Maybe something you didn’t fully understand.”

 

“He said he wanted me off my phone and to talk to you guys!  That’s what I was doing!” Fran insists.

 

“I know,” Levi nods.  “And that’s...probably how kids talk to each other at school..” he offers.

 

“And at my house,” Fran admits.

 

Levi’s stomach lurches and he breathes slow and deeply.

 

“We tease and people laugh sometimes,” Fran admits, drawing on the table with her finger.

 

“So, you were hoping we’d laugh?” Levi asks.

 

“I was just trying to do what Jesus said,” Fran says softly.

 

“Okay.  And you thought it was an okay thing to comment on because Pearl brought it up,” Levi recalls.

 

Fran nods.

 

“I can see why this didn’t feel very fair to you.  Something we don’t always take time to say is that...some things we do...like what Mariana and I did, today...they’re about trauma.”

 

“Trauma?” Fran asks, surprised.  “I thought it was just...you know...casual.”

 

“You thought Mariana and I were just hanging out at Avoidance casually?” Levi wonders.

 

“Mm-hmm.  And when a boy and a girl do that usually, and it’s just them?  Stuff happens,” Fran explains.

 

“No stuff happened,” Levi reassures.  “This was more serious. I know you were just trying to make conversation and you didn’t know all the information,” Levi begins.  “The thing is, I’m not very comfortable with other people talking about private things with me.”

 

“But we always do at Avoidance,” Fran points out.

 

“Right,” Levi nods.  “I should say...I’m not comfortable with people talking about private things with me...in a way that’s not serious…  My trauma doesn’t like hearing people talk about private things like they don’t matter. Like they’re a joke.”

 

Francesca blinks.  “Sorry. I didn’t know.”

 

“I know,” Levi reassures.  “And I know it’s not fair to expect you to know this stuff if somebody doesn’t take the time to talk to you about it.”

 

“I wrote a story once?” Fran admits.  “About when I did Track and Field Day, and I won first place.”

 

“Congratulations,” Levi tells her, and means it.  “When was this?”

 

“Third grade,” Fran explains.  “For the static arm hang.”

 

“Okay.  That’s no joke,” he says, nodding appreciatively.

 

“Yeah, so I wrote it, and then they were like...my teacher and some other people…  They were like, saying how it’s great that they gave me a ribbon after all, and it was all thanks to Jesus.”

 

Levi just listens.

 

“They made it sound like Jesus did all the work.  Like the teachers gave me the ribbon because of what Jesus said.  Not because I hung for the longest out of everybody,” Fran frowns.  “They missed the point and made me feel bad about myself and my accomplishment.  I missed the point and made you and Mari feel bad about your privacy, when I should’ve respected it.”

 

“You’re trying to relate,” Levi realizes, touched.  “Yeah, when people misunderstand us it can be really tough.”

 

“No one’s treating me like they’re glad I’m here,” Fran says sadly.

 

“ _ I’m _ glad you’re here,” Levi tells her honestly.  “Can I hug you?”

 

Fran nods and Levi comes and wraps his arms around her shoulders from behind.  “I’m very glad you’re here. Pearl and I will always come if you need us, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Fran nods.

 

“Because you matter very much to us.  Nobody’s perfect right out of the gate,” Levi reassures.

 

“No such thing as perfect,” Fran cautions.

 

“Hey, do you guys want dessert?” Pearl asks, opening the deck door.

 

“Um, hi.  Have you met me?” Fran asks, and she sounds so much like Mariana that it has Pearl laughing.

 

Levi has a stop to make first. “Excuse me, just for a second.  Fran, do you know where the bathroom is?”

 

“Yeah, come with me, I’ll show you,” she urges and walks in holding Levi’s hand.  She stays with him all the way to the door, stopping outside it. “Here it is.”

 

“Thank you.  I’ll be right out,” he says, sending her a bright smile.

 

As soon as the door closes at his back, he’s across the room and vomiting all but silently.

 

Dessert. Here, in a house.  Pearl offering. Jaimie somewhere.  Teasing. Talk of kissing. Private things mocked.

 

He’s tried.  

 

Levi’s tried so hard to keep it together.  But spending hours poring over Stef and Lena justifying their abuse of Mariana?  Their disregard for her and Francesca? It’s too much. With this? And the expectation of eating a meal?  And now dessert?

 

It’s too much.

 

He flushes.  Rocks back on his heels.  Feels lightheaded.  

 

Thinks of a promise he made to Mariana hours ago.

 

Sends a broken heart emoji and waits.

 

\--

 

Mariana’s phone pings and she checks her texts.  She excuses herself from the table. From Michael’s brownie sundaes.

 

Taps on the bathroom door.

 

After a few minutes, Levi opens it.  He’s grey. Eyes watering. Looking like he could keel over at any minute.

 

She offers him a hand.  They make their way to Dominique’s room (still a solid option for taking breaks.)

 

They’re in.  He’s standing there, looking so lost.

 

She sits on the floor.  Opens her arms.

 

He hesitates and then goes into them.

 

She holds on.

 

“I--I don’t--  I don’t--” he stutters.

 

And she knows.  He’s so triggered.  She’s had her suspicions, but Levi’s stutter is his tell.

 

“Okay,” she says.

 

“I don’t know...what’s wrong with me…” he manages.

 

“Nothing,” she reassures.  “This is trauma.”

 

“I can’t do this,” he manages, voice breaking.

 

“Okay.  You don’t have to,” Mariana says, quiet.  “We’ll go.”

 

“No, I can’t.  I have to sing to Roberta,” he insists, wiping his eyes.

 

Mariana sends Dom a text, and in seconds she’s here with a very crabby looking Roberta in her arms.  “Oh, you’ll like this,” Dominique’s reassuring the cat.

 

Levi’s wet eyes light up, seeing her.  “Oh my God. Hello,” he greets.

 

Roberta glares at Levi like she hates him intensely.

 

Dominique wastes no time, seeing the state Levi’s in.  If Mariana had to guess, she’d say Dominique’s in a similar one.  Mariana’s own head throbs. She feels drunk, exhausted, violated.

 

But this is what they do for each other.

 

They show up.

 

“ _ The heart may freeze or it can burn… _ ” Dominique sings, without preamble.  Roberta turns toward her, interested. Her feathery tail flicks back and forth.  “ _ The pain will ease if I can learn.  There is no future. There is no past.  I live this moment as my last. _ ”

 

(God, Dominique has a gorgeous voice.  Mariana’s almost forgotten. It’s been a while since she’s had the pleasure of hearing her friend with her guard down.)

 

“ _ There's only us.  There's only this.  Forget regret, or life is yours to miss.  No other road. No other way. No day but today _ ,” Levi’s joined in here, and they sound incredible.  Mariana glances at Roberta and feels like she and the cat are both just on Cloud Nine.

 

There’s nothing like hearing your friends sing.  Especially when you know it’s not something they can do all the time.

 

Roberta’s purring by the end of the verse.  She walks up to Levi and sniffs him. Nuzzles his hand.

 

“Okay.  You just won her over now,” Dominique smiles.

 

“We have to go,” Levi says, and just like that, Mariana can see his frayed nerves.  His effort to hold himself together. “I’m so sorry. It’s just…”

 

“Hey.  You don’t need to explain.  You guys go,” Dominique nods.

 

“You’re sure?” Levi checks.  “I mean, your mom won’t…”

 

“She won’t be mad, Levi.  It’s okay, I promise.” Dominique reassures.

 

“It was nice to meet you, Roberta,” Levi tells her.

 

Roberta mews softly in response.

 

“Oh, my God.  Don’t go acting like this is how you are every day of your life,” Dominique remarks, laughing.  “She’s acting so good now.”

 

“We have room,” Mariana offers, looking at Dominique.  

 

“We know the Fran video’s not your favorite…” Levi remarks gently.

 

“I just might take y’all up on that,” Dominique nods, and Mariana can tell it’s like she’s checking things off in her head.

 

“We can sit in back together,” Mariana offers.  “With Roberta.”

 

“I’ll take the lead with Mom and Dad.  Y’all don’t have to say anything,” Dominique says.

 

Mariana can feel Levi squeezing her hand, in anticipation.

 

But it’s fine.  

 

“I gotta take Roberta back with me, guys.  Mari and Levi are gonna come, too. Thanks for dinner.”  She stops and hugs Jaimie. Then Michael. Then Fran, who’s upset they’re not all going to be together anymore.

 

“We’ll be together when you come back,” Dominique reassures.

 

Levi hugs Fran, too.  Then Mariana hugs her.

 

Then they leave.

 

She has Levi’s help down the steps.

 

The car ride back is blessedly quiet.


	109. Castle on The Hill

The first thing Dominique does when she gets back to Gateway is knock on the office door.  

 

“Hey, I’m back,” she says, before it registers that Lena’s not here.  Val and someone else are. “Sorry.”

 

“Hi, Dominique.  You’re looking for Lena?” Val asks.  

 

Dominique nods.  

 

“Great.  She’s just on a break.  I’ll let her know you stopped in.  Okay if I send her up to your apartment?”

 

“Yeah.  Sounds good,” Dominique breathes.

 

“It’ll be about...eight minutes,” Val checks her phone.  “Can you cope safely for that long?”

 

“She’s really coming?” Dominique checks.

 

“I promise you, she is really coming.  I see Mariana’s there. And your friend from Minnesota.  Levi?”

 

Dominique nods, appreciating Val for grounding her in reality.  The car ride had been the last thing she needed on top of Fran bringing up her baby video again.  Her guard had already been down. So much so that even though it was in the plan to sing to Roberta, Dominique hadn’t felt entirely here doing it.

 

“Then I can cope,” Dominique nods, and boards the elevator with Mari and Levi.  Dominique stares at the ceiling until it lands and then walks out and down the hall to her place.  Manages to get the key in the lock to let them all in.

 

Then, unceremoniously, she brings Roberta (still in her carrier) into the bedroom and closes the door.  Dominique locks it, too. Tries to breathe.

 

It’s minutes later when she’s feeling a little more secure, up in her bed under all her covers, Roberta trying to find a comfortable spot that she opens Facebook Messenger.  

 

Creates a new group:

 

**_Mariana Adams Foster, Levi West_ **

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Sorry.  My person’s coming in 5 mins. So heads up.  Need my own space. Are y’all okay? _

 

\--

 

Levi doesn’t make a habit of just going into people’s rooms and closing the door.  But one glance at the second bedroom lets Levi know it’s not a bedroom. And he needs a door to close.

 

He leans against it and tries to breathe.  

 

Hears the ping of a new Facebook message and checks. Types.

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Can you please tell your person not to knock?  Can’t handle that right now… Also heads up I am in your other room.  (The one that looks like a fabric factory exploded…) _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ I can meet her before she knocks if that’s OK Dom? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ [thumbs up emoji]  And that’s my costume room L.  Don’t touch the fabric please. (But feel free to read any/all books, use stress balls, etc.) _

 

\--

 

Just like she promised, Mariana’s waiting at the door when Dominique’s Lena walks up.  Mari’s been rehearsing what she needs to say. Has it typed in the notes of her phone.  

 

When she sees Lena, though, it’s all Mari can do to hand off her phone:

 

_ Dominique said I could let you in.  3 of us here, all triggered. Trying to keep everybody as OK as possible. 1 does not like knocking. _

 

Lena says “Hey, Mariana,” with a warm smile and then reads the message.  “Okay, good to know. Where’s Dominique?”

 

Mariana points to the bedroom, its door still firmly closed.

 

“Okay.  I won’t knock,” she reassures and stops outside Dom’s door to identify herself and ask to come in.

 

Minutes pass and eventually a lock clicks.

 

Lena’s admitted.

 

\--

 

When Lena’s in her room, Dominique permits her up the ladder, but not in the bed.  So Lena’s become a pro at standing braced there and talking at length, so they can be eye to eye, or as close to it as Dominique wants them to be.

 

“Val said you stopped by.  That you needed me,” Lena says.

 

“Yeah, kinda,” Dominique allows.  “Been kinda trigger-heavy lately.”  For once, Dominique isn’t buried under the blankets but sitting up, petting Roberta, who’s curled in her lap.

 

Dominique gives Lena a quick overview of the evening.  Of the video that Fran got and loves to share with anybody who will watch.  

 

“I’m guessing by your body language that this video could be a trigger for you,” Lena says softly.

 

“You’d be guessing right.  I just...I keep a lot in. You know?”

 

“I’ve noticed, yeah.  And that’s your right.  Unless and until you feel safe to share it with someone,” Lena tells her.  “You have high walls.”

 

“And, the thing is…  I’ve finally kinda...gotten to the point where I can share with them,” Dominique nods toward her bedroom door.  “About some of this stuff. Stuff that I’ve kept to myself. But there are still aspects,” she shudders. “That I just...can’t…” Dominique blinks back tears.

 

“You have every right to keep aspects of your trauma private,” Lena reassures.

 

“But then they trigger me,” Dominique objects, broken.  “They don’t mean to. I know that, but it’s like… Do I have a right to be upset about it, if I won’t even tell ‘em what it relates to?”

 

Lena waits until Dominique is looking at her and says a single word: “Yes.  Dominique, yes. You don’t owe anybody an explanation of your trauma or any specific trigger.”

 

“But then I just have to brace myself for them to bring it up any damn time!”

 

“Easy,” Lena cautions.  “Breathe, and take it easy.”

 

Dominique’s throat feels tight.  Her nose and throat are burning.

 

“You can let it out,” Lena adds, gentle.  “It’s just us in here.”

 

Dominique sniffs.  Tears roll. She buries her face in Roberta’s fur.  And Roberta stays close, cuddling her.

 

Lena waits until Dominique is done crying and then offers, “I know being triggered out of nowhere is excruciating.  I want you to know that I hear that. I see what this is doing to you.”

 

Dominique nods, clenching balled up tissue in her fists so that her palms don’t get the brunt of her anxiety.

 

“And I also…” Lena says quietly, waiting until Dominique peeks at her.  “I also...want you to know that I’m proud of you. I know what a big deal it is for you to share with your friends.  That takes time. You may not feel safe divulging everything at once. That’s okay. But you’re letting them in, and that’s progress.  That lets me know that your trust in them is growing.”

 

“I sang,” Dominique offers, her voice raw.

 

“You did?” Lena asks, concerned.  (She knows Dominique’s history with singing when she’s triggered.)  “What do you wanna tell me about that?”

 

“That I did it,” Dominique repeats, raising her chin a little.

 

“Thank you for telling me,” Lena answers.

 

It’s what Dominique needs to hear in order to say more.  No pressure. Acknowledgement.

 

“Levi and I…  We… We sang to Roberta together.  It’s a thing we were planning. I just...wasn’t planning to be triggered for it…”

 

“Mmm,” Lena nods.  “Did Levi notice? Or Mariana?”

 

“I’m not sure,” Dominique admits.  “They offered me an out with them right after we did it, so maybe?”

 

“Can I ask you how you felt when you were singing tonight?” Lena treads carefully here.

 

“Amber,” Dominique whispers.  She never utters that name ever if she can help it.  Her alter-ego is Dominique’s own personal You-Know-Who.  A name that cannot be spoken without striking devastating fear in her.

 

“That’s  _ who _ you felt like, Dominique, and I get that.  I really do. But can you look at me?”

 

Dominique does, breathing a sigh of relief at hearing her real name and not that one again.

 

“Good breath,” Lena nods, approving.  “We’re gonna take this one thing at a time.  It’s Lena. You’re safe with me. You’re not a child anymore.  You’re grown. You’re supported. You have help.”

 

“Yeah,” Dominique nods.

 

“So, I want you to listen to my words,” Lena waits.  “Dominique… How did you feel tonight when you were singing?”

 

“I don’t know.  Feelings are…” she shakes her head.

 

“Close as you can,” Lena pushes gently.

 

“Distant,” Dominique clears her throat.

 

“You felt distant,” Lena nods, handing her a bottle of water.  “Distant from yourself?”

 

Dominique nods, taking a sip of water.

 

“I hear you.  That makes a lot of sense.  For you, singing needs to only be something that only you choose to do.  Only when you’re one hundred percent here,” Lena reviews, patient.

 

“I messed up,” Dominique says, regretful.

 

“Is that what you heard me say?” Lena asks, sympathetic.

 

“That’s what I heard  _ me _ say,” Dominique admits.

 

“Okay.  You didn’t mess up.  You were triggered. And when you’re triggered, you’re trying to survive, right?”

 

“Yes,” Dominique nods.

 

“Trying to survive is not messing up,” Lena says.

 

“But sometimes... _ in _ trying to survive...we  _ can _ mess up…” Dominique says, soft.

 

“That is very true.  But what I’m saying is different than that,” Lena explains.  “Do you feel ready to take in what I’m saying yet?”

 

“I rode in the car,” Dominique offers, her voice flat.

 

“You rode in the car,” Lena echoes.  “And I know that doesn’t always feel safe either.  Where did you sit in the car?”

 

“Back.”

 

“You sat in the back,” Lena repeats.  “Who was next to you in the back?”

 

“Roberta,” Dominique says, quiet.  “Mariana.”

 

“Good.  Sounds like your friends were keeping you safe when you rode with them.”

 

Dominique shakes her head a little, feeling clearer.  Less blurry. She looks at Lena. Nods.

 

“You’re ready to take in what I was saying earlier?” Lena guesses.  (Over a year of being there for Dominique in these moments has made Lena an expert on Dom’s body language and cues.)

 

Dominique nods.

 

“I’m saying maybe, if and when you’re ready?  You tell your friends that you cannot be asked or pressured in any way to sing.  That it has to be your call, and yours alone,” Lena suggests.

 

“But I wanted to, tonight,” Dominique objects.  

 

“You were feeling distant tonight, right?  Not like yourself?” Lena reminds.

 

Dominique sighs.  “Fine, yeah, I was.  But what if they’re mad at me?  I’ve kinda been putting a lot on ‘em lately…  Sharing more… What if this is too much?”

 

“How much do they put on you?” Lena challenges, matter of fact.

 

“That doesn’t matter,” Dominique pushes back.

 

“I think it does.  Part of having people in life that you can trust is realizing that...assuming they’re safe people...they view you the same way you view them.  So you’re saying it doesn’t matter how much they put on you because you love them, right?”

 

Dominique nods.

 

“Chances are really good, that they feel the same way about you.  And know that it’s more than okay if you need to take time for you.  You can say no sometimes, for your own sake.”

 

“This is a lot,” Dominique acknowledges, checking her phone.  “And Mariana wants to know if she can get food and water for all of us.  I need some show tunes and some alone time.”

 

“Alright.  You good to talk to your friends or text me if you need us?” Lena asks.

 

Dominique nods.

 

“Try to catch onto before you get distant, Dominique,” Lena urges.  “Music and Roberta and staying hydrated are excellent steps in positive coping.  But I need you to not isolate. How much time do you need by yourself before it might start getting blurry?”

 

“15 minutes?” Dominique asks.

 

“Okay.  So I want you in touch with your friends during these 15 minutes.  Can you do that? No isolating?” Lena checks.

 

“Please, I can positive-cope all day.  It’s my jam,” Dominique smiles.

 

“Good to hear,” Lena starts to descend the ladder.

 

“Oh,” Dominique remembers and Lena’s head pops back up.  “Can you tell Mari it’s fine if she raids the fridge and stuff?”

 

“Will do,” Lena nods.  “I’ll check in later.”

 

“Thank you,” Dominique calls.  “For listening.”

 

“Anytime,” Lena calls back, closing the door softly behind her.

 

\--

 

As exhausted as Mariana is she can’t settle.  She messages the Facebook group again:

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Hey Dom, can I get us water, food, etc, from your kitchen? _

 

It’s several minutes before Dominique texts back and Mariana can’t do anything but sit on the couch and refresh her phone screen.  Levi’s not talking.

 

Finally, she messages him, too:

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ L, you OK? _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Too dizzy to read :( _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ You don’t have to. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ But I love HP :(  _

 

Lena comes out then.  Pulls a chair out across from Mariana.  “Okay. Dominique’s all set. She’s got her music on via headphones.  But she said you can absolutely get food and water for all of you. She’s got water with her and she’ll be out in 15.  Just needs her space.”

 

Mariana nods.  Gets up and walks to the kitchen as Lena leaves.

 

She spots a barbecue chicken pizza in the freezer and preheats the oven.  She snaps a picture of the box and sends it to the chat.

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Dom, is this OK?  I’m starving. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ [thumbs up] _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Sorry I made us leave :( _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Not your fault. _

 

She’s gathering waters for all of them when their chat pings again:

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Dominique, if I go out to the LR / K is that cool? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ You don’t have to ask.  Just don’t come in here.  Anybody else need anything? _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ [sends a pic of Dad blanket] [sad emoji]  Locked inside Jesus’s apt. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Sorry :(  We will get it ASAP. _

 

The costume room door creaks open.  Levi sticks his head out, and Mari nods to him.


	110. Stand By You

Francesca’s busy handing all the dishes on the table to Pearl or Jaimie or Michael.  Jesus is outside with Dudley because Dudley has to go, and also because Jesus and cleaning kitchens don’t always mix.

 

There’s no more dishes on the table so Fran walks to the kitchen where Pearl’s at the sink, up to her elbows in suds.  Fran’s kind of jealous. Kind of not. She has to do dishes at her own house, so it’s nice to have the break.

 

Jesus and Dudley are back.  “You’re sure I can’t help out?”

 

“Sit down.  Take a load off,” Jaimie tells him.  

 

Michael passes Jaimie pass each other in the kitchen, too.  With four people in it, it’s really full. But less full without Dominique, Levi and Mari.

 

Fran watches as Michael reaches to touch Jaimie’s face.  As Jaimie moves away. Sets the plates she’s carrying down kind of suddenly and goes out to the deck, letting the door shut hard behind her.

 

Michael follows and they talk.  Fran can see Michael trying to talk and Jaimie yelling and walking away from him.  

 

“Oooh,” Fran says.

 

“What ‘ooh’?” Pearl asks.  “What happened?”

 

“Michael tried to touch Jaimie on the face, and she wouldn’t let him.  Now they’re on the deck fighting all about it,” Fran passes along.

 

“Come here,” Pearl says, drying her hands quickly.  

 

Fran goes to her.  “What?”

 

“Come with me.  Jesus, you good?” Pearl checks.  

 

“Yeah.  I can totally do those,” Jesus offers.  (Meaning he’s not good.)

 

“These dishes will be fine here.  Just leave them,” Pearl says, because she knows about Jesus and cleaning.

 

“Okay,” he nods.

 

Fran takes Pearl’s hand and they walk toward the door.

 

“Wait.  What are we doing?” Fran asks.  “Michael’s already talking to her.”

 

“We are checking in with Jaimie.  Seeing if she’s okay. Girls and women, we look out for each other,” Pearl explains.  And they’re outside before Fran can ask any of her million questions.

 

“Jaimie?” Pearl asks.  “Are you all right?”

 

“I’ll be inside,” Michael says, excusing himself.

 

“I’m sorry you had to see that…” Jaimie apologizes.  She’s faced away from them with her arms crossed.

 

“It’s okay,” Pearl nods.  “You don’t have to say, but... _ are _ you okay?”

 

“Not exactly, but I will be,” Jaimie promises, sending a smile Fran’s way.

 

Jaimie’s breathing, like, shaky.  It makes Fran feel afraid. But she’s more afraid of Michael possibly getting mad.

 

“Why didn’t you let Michael touch you on the face?” Fran wonders, in almost a whisper.

 

“Because he didn’t ask me, babe,” Jaimie explains.  “He just did it. I didn’t like that.”

 

“Francesca?” Pearl interjects.  “A lot of people...have been touched or kissed when we don’t want to be.”

 

“But he’s your husband.  You’re married,” Fran points out, looking at Jaimie.  “Don’t married people have to let each other do that? Isn’t that the whole point of being married?”

 

“Nobody...not your husband not your brother not your sister not your mother...has the right to touch you if you don’t wanna be,” Jaimie explains, her eyes serious.  “Being married is about two people who love each other and respect each other, wanting to spend the rest of their lives together. It doesn’t give them an all-access pass to touch or kiss their wife or their husband whenever they want to.”

 

“I thought you just got to do that when you got married,” Francesca says, matter of fact.

 

“We ask before we touch each other, as Avoiders, right?” Pearl asks.  “We respect each other. That doesn’t expire.”

 

“Sometimes parents think they can touch kids however they want, too…” Fran offers, remembering her fight with Stef and Lena.  How they said they got to hit her because they were her parents.

 

“Those parents would be wrong,” Jaimie says.  “There are times parents have to intervene to keep a child safe.  Say, if you went over and were about to touch the grill over there when it was on?  I’d stop you. Physically, if I had to. Because your safety was at risk. But just like being married isn’t a free pass to touch another person however you want?  Being a parent isn’t that either.”

 

“So...Michael should say he’s sorry for crossing your boundaries?” Fran asks after a pause.

 

“Yes,” Jaimie nods.  “And he will. We work things out.  It’s not something you need to worry about.”

 

“I didn’t know consent was for all those things and people…” Fran breathes.  “Like, parents to kids and married people and stuff.”

 

“Consent’s for everybody, babe,” Jaimie nods.  “And if anybody tries to touch you in a way you don’t like…”

 

“Yell as loud as I want and tell a safe person right away,” Fran remembers from her talks with Jesus and Mariana.

 

“That’s right.  No matter what. Remember that if someone hurts you or touches you in a way that makes you uncomfortable?  They did the wrong thing. Not you. So you can always trust us to tell us about it. Any one of us. We won’t blame you.  You won’t be in trouble.”

 

“Okay.  Like I could say, ‘Mama hit me Monday night,’ and you’d know it’s not my fault?” Fran tests out cautiously.

 

“That’s exactly right,” Jaimie gets up and comes around the table.  “Can I hug you, babe?”

 

“Yeah, I consent,” Fran nods, feeling shy.  She reaches out for Pearl’s hand.

 

The hug feels good and safe.

 

\--

 

“What the hell, Michael?” Jesus asks when the door closes behind Fran and Pearl.

 

Michael looks startled.  “What?”

 

“Jaimie doesn’t want you touching her.  Why?” Jesus insists.

 

“That’s her business, Jesus.  Not mine to tell,” Michael says, like he’s defeated.

 

“Did you hurt her?” Jesus challenges, standing from his chair.

 

“I did not.  But I should have asked before I tried to touch her tonight.  That was my mistake,” he admits.

 

Jesus can’t keep the wariness out of his eyes, though.  He hates knowing that even the best people can mess up in major ways.

 

\--

 

Lena’s nothing if not thorough as hell, and in fifteen minutes, she’s texting Dominique to make sure she’s actually getting up to join Levi and Mariana.

 

She climbs down the ladder and eases her door open, poking her head out.

 

“Just in time for pizza,” Mariana says.

 

Levi’s the only one at the table.  He still doesn’t look well.

 

They eat pizza in silence.  Dominique and Mariana on the couch and Levi in the kitchen at the table.

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Thanks for looking out for me both of you.  Appreciate it. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Of course. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Always. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ I just...Lena suggested I tell y’all something.  Open for some realness? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ [thumbs up] _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Yes. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Singing is...kinda touchy for me.  Connected to my trauma and my survival, I guess.  It was part of surviving. So I kinda need it to be a thing that’s just mine.  I can’t have y’all asking me to sing, or even just the expectation of it hanging in the air. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ So sorry.  Shouldn’t have made such a big deal re: Roberta’s duet.  Are you okay? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Now I am.  Better, at least.  What about y’all? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ We won’t pressure / expect you to sing.  We can pass it along to Jesus and Fran and Pearl too if you need. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ NVM I just copied and pasted my thing about it into Avoiders Chat.  For real, though, y’all okay? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Can I talk about my accident?  Would that be too triggering, Dominique? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ I don’t think so.  Talk about it if you want / can. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ So the thing L and I did was...he helped me read through this awful website Stef and Lena made during my recovery… _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ OMG no wonder y’all both are not okay…. :(  I mean, I don’t have to ask if it was awful…  It was, right? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Oversharey.  Rude. Abusive.  Everything? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Sounds like it.  I’m sorry. Levi? _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Hey. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Wanna talk to us? _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Don’t wanna offend. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ I know dinner was awful for you.  I’m sorry and I’m not offended. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ So...no offense to both of you...but just...all the combined Mom-energy + food = overload for me. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Some damage you can’t get over.  I know I’m going to be digging my way out of the hellsite for a long time.  Gonna need you + Dom (if you both want) to be my truth team. Tell me what’s real and what’s crap.  What I mean is, we get it. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ I can do that. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Okay.  And thanks.  And you are not a burden.  That’s crap. Just in case you were wondering. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Never not wondering.  Thank you, Levi. And Dom, thank you, too.  Levi, we’ll rescue the Dad blanket from Jesus’s ASAP. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Oh, I have a blanket you can use in the meantime.  Back of the costume room chair. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ You said not to touch any fabric, so I just assumed. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Sorry, my bad.  You can totally have the blanket. _

 

Seeing Levi get up for it.  Relax into it in the kitchen chair, puts Dominique’s mind at ease a little.

 

They’re gonna be okay.

 

\--

 

Jaimie takes a breath and walks back into the kitchen.

 

Michael stands a few feet away.  “Can I apologize to you, please?” he asks.

 

She nods, aware that Francesca’s watching.  That Jesus and Pearl are still here. But instead of feeling pressured she feels like they get this.

 

“Jaimie, I’m sorry for trying to touch you without asking first,” Michael says sincerely.  “I wasn’t thinking.”

 

“No, you weren’t,” she agrees.  “I’m gonna need some space,” she advises him, and then turns to Francesca.  “We’re okay. I want you to know that. In this house, we don’t always agree, but we always respect each other.”

 

“So, you and Michael...you still love each other, right?” Fran asks.

 

“Yes, we still love each other.”

 

“He just made a big mistake and you need some space from him?” Francesca questions.

 

“That’s right.”

 

“Well, we should get going,” Pearl says, looking to Jesus, who nods.  “Give you two some privacy. Thank you so much for having us.”

 

“Anytime,” Jaimie tells them sincerely.  “Please let Levi know I understand him needing space, too.  I’m not mad.”

 

“I will,” Pearl nods.

 

Jesus stops Jaimie on his way out the door.  

 

“Hey...uh…  Are you sure you guys are okay?  You can get a ride with us, you know?  I can take you wherever. No questions asked.”  His face is serious. Eyes fathomless.

 

“Jesus.  Babe, that’s so sweet.  But I’m really okay. I promise you.  It’s safe to leave me.”

 

“Alright,” he nods, like he’s convincing himself, before he finally goes outside, pulling the door closed behind them.

 

\--

 

That night, Francesca’s getting ready for bed at Jesus’s.  She keeps watching the video on mute. She has told Avoiders Chat she is sorry for being rude at dinner.  They all forgive her. But Dominique says (in the private chat for just her and Fran) something that explains a lot:

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ You know how I told you at the cabin something private about me?  That I had a baby? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Yes.  I didn’t tell any one. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ I appreciate that.  Just...sometimes seeing you as a little baby reminds me of my baby I lost and I feel sad.   _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ So talking about that video was making you feel sad, right? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Right.  Listen, I love you.  With all my heart. As much as it’s possible for a safe adult to love a kid, okay?  That will never change. My reaction to the video, it doesn’t mean I don’t love you. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ What does it mean? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ That if I could have a heads up before you talk about baby stuff, that’d help. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Kinda like how I stop at your door or call and tell you it’s me, so you know? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ That’s right.  Do you have any questions? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Do you really love me still>?  Even though you don’t want to see baby stuff about me?  Even though I messed up? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ 10,000% yes. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ I just remind you of her? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Yes, sometimes.  So sometimes I need space. But I don’t stop loving you.  I just wanted you to understand. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Your mom and dad liked it a lot. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ I’m so glad to hear that. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Can I sleep in your bed w you and Mari tonight? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Of course you can, babe. _

 

“Fran, come on,” Jesus calls.

 

“Okay,” Fran says back, pushing open the bathroom door.  She can see Levi walk inside the bedroom, cuddling with his Dad blanket.  He closes the door behind him.

 

“Hey, buddy?” Fran asks, hesitant.

 

“Yeah, buddy?” Jesus answers.  (Her favorite way. This is her favorite thing.)  

 

“Can I talk to you first?” Fran whispers.

 

“Of course,” Jesus nods.  “What’s up?”

 

“Just…” Fran hesitates.  “I’m really glad you came to school with me...but...this is just not how I thought today would go…”

 

“No?” he asks.

 

“Mm-mm,” she shakes her head.  “I thought it would be, like, special.  Happy. Like a birthday, sort of, for us.  But it wasn’t like that. I got in trouble a lot by you.”

 

Jesus looks concerned as they sit by each other on the couch.  “You got in trouble a lot by me when?”

 

“Eating dinner.  I know I teased and that wasn’t right,” Fran admitted.  “I just...thought I’d feel more loved, I guess.”

 

“Oh, buddy…” Jesus says, like he’s surprised.  Hurt. Sad. “I love you a ton, okay? I do. And I am so, so glad we met.”

 

“Can we talk about it?” she asks, thinking about her conversation with Dominique.

 

“Of course,” Jesus nods.

 

“So, you saw me and liked me right away?” Fran asks, snuggling against Jesus’s arm.

 

“I did.  You were eating...pancakes, I think?  In a high chair. So we didn’t talk right away but afterward?  I went upstairs with Mariana and she introduced us. She told you I was your buddy, Jesus.”

 

“What did I say?” Fran asks.

 

“Uh...you said no...according to Mari,” Jesus admits with a sad smile.

 

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry I was so mean to you,” Fran apologizes.

 

“You were probably just nervous because we didn’t know each other yet.  I don’t hold it against you.”

 

“You loved me?” Fran double-checks.

 

“I  _ love _ you,” Jesus says giving her a squeeze.  “Then and now.”

 

“You really  _ are _ my buddy,” Fran tells him.  “And I love you, too. And I love having Jesus and Fran Day.”

 

“Me, too.  It’s a pretty awesome day. And you’re a pretty awesome sister.” Jesus says.


	111. When We Were Young

As Mariana, Francesca and Dominique all seem exhausted and the last thing on Pearl’s mind is sleep, she asks Dominique to put a huge amount of trust in her:  “I know this is a big deal. I’m not asking it lightly. But I need to check in with Levi, and I don’t know how long that’s going to take. Could I possibly get your key to let myself back in so I don’t wake everyone knocking?”

 

Dominique hesitates, and it’s in that moment Pearl realizes how this must sound to her.  Having to leave early from her own parents’ house due to triggers.

 

“Listen,” Pearl sits down on the couch.  “Are  _ you _ okay first?  I realize a lot’s been going on and I haven’t had the chance to ask.  I know Fran’s video’s a tough topic for you.”

 

“I...um...I talked to my person and to Mari and Levi a little, as well.  I’m okay. I just...don’t know how comfortable I am parting with my key.”

 

“Understood,” Pearl nods.  “I can totally knock. I’d just hate to wake everyone.”

 

“Honestly, if I heard a key in my lock late at night, I’d be up anyway.  You’d probably be safer texting me to let you in,” Dominique admits.

 

“Whatever works best for you.  I’ll be in the lobby with Levi if anybody needs me,” Pearl passes along.

 

“Yeah.  Thank you.  For checking in,” Dominique nods.

 

“Of course,” Pearl responds.  “Come on, Cleo. You’re an important part of checking in with Levi,” Pearl says, hefting the fat little pug into her arms while Roberta looks on from across the room.  Despite Pearl’s dreams, these two have definitely not become fast friends.

 

She stops by the bathroom and calls inside, where she knows Mariana is: “Hey.  Just wanted to say goodnight. I’m headed to the lobby to talk to Levi if you need us.”

 

“Bye,” Mariana calls back from inside.

 

\--

 

Pearl steps up to Jesus’s door and knocks.  Fran pulls it open.  

 

“Hi!  Guess what?  I asked Jesus if I could stay here and watch a show with him.  Just a cooking show, you know? And he said yes because it’s Friday.”

 

“It’s also Jesus and Fran Day,” Pearl winks.  “I haven’t forgotten.”  

 

“It  _ is _ Jesus and Fran Day,” Francesca’s smile is at its biggest.  Pearl has no doubt it means she’s at her happiest right now.  And this girl deserves about ten thousand happiest days.

 

“Send Dom and Mariana a text or a Polo or something to let them know you’re hanging out here for a bit,” Pearl advises, giving Fran a hug and making sure she’s steady before letting go completely.

 

“She’s cool.  I did,” Jesus passes along.

 

“So, did you just come over to find me?” Fran asks, curious.

 

“Actually, I came over to find Levi,” Pearl clarifies.  

 

“He’s in there,” Fran points at the closed bedroom door.

 

“Can you tell him Cleo and I would like to check in with him?”

 

“I heard you,” Levi says quietly, emerging from the bedroom.  “I’ll come.”

 

“We’ll be in the lobby,” Pearl passes along.

 

\--

 

Levi follows at a distance, their Dad-blanket draped over his shoulders.  

 

Just like Pearl hoped, no one is frequenting Gateway’s lobby at 10 PM.  She stops walking and lets Levi pick where he feels most comfortable. Watches as he crosses all the way to the far side and curls into one of the chairs.

 

“May I join you?” Pearl asks softly.

 

“Across,” he says so quietly.

 

“Can you hold Cleo for me?  I need to pull a chair up,” Pearl asks.  

 

Levi opens his arms and Pearl plops Cleo into them.  She licks Levi all over the face and gets a smile out of him.

 

“Hi.  I missed you, too,” he whispers.

 

Pearl pulls a chair out from one of the tables and toward Levi a few inches.  She moves closer and closer with his consent until he finally shakes his head no.  There’s more than an arm’s length between them, but Pearl’s just glad he can tell her honestly where he needs her to be.

 

“Here.  Do you need her?” Levi asks, ready to relinquish Cleo.

 

“She’s not working.  You guys go on and cuddle,” Pearl encourages.

 

She stays quiet as Levi pets Cleo.  Pearl’s planning to wait until he speaks first.  Give him whatever time he needs. But she remembers Jaimie’s words to her and knows she should pass them on.

 

“Jaimie understood that you needed space,” Pearl offers softly.  “She’s not mad.”

 

Levi glances at her, shadows in his eyes.

 

“It was just...hard,” Levi admits.  “I wanted to be there. Always imagined what it would be like...you know...if we ever all were able to get together?  Perfect and happy. I ruined that,” he says, regretful.

 

“Hey,” Pearl says, gentle.  “You did not ruin that.”

 

Levi bites his lip.  Looks away from her.

 

“Is it okay?  Me, asking you questions like this?” Pearl wonders.

 

Levi nods.  The movement is so slight, she almost misses it.

 

“I know this is a touchy subject.  I promise you I remember your boundaries around when I talk to you about Mariana.  I was just wondering...you both seemed pretty raw when you got to the Williamses. I know you got everything done.  I know it’s private. Just...I can listen if you need to tell me anything.”

 

“I thought a lot about Dad when we were...doing the thing.  About losing him. I try not to think about it...but I just couldn’t help it,” Levi blinks back tears.

 

“Of course you couldn’t.  It’s not a bad thing. That’s grief,” Pearl encourages, sad, too.

 

“It’s just...we talked a lot about parents.  And Stef and Lena...I don’t wanna compromise Mari’s privacy, but…”

 

“They’re like her,” Pearl says, knowing.

 

“And I guess...that plus...a meal with a mom at it.  Dessert…” Levi lists, shadows still lurking in his gaze.

 

“It’s no wonder you weren’t okay,” Pearl offers.

 

“I got sick in their bathroom,” Levi blurts and then looks terrified.  It’s like he didn’t know he was going to speak at all until the words were out of his mouth.

 

“Hey.  It’s okay,” Pearl reassures.  “I know _ she _ was upset about messes. But I’m not.  Jaimie’s not. We understand.”

 

“But...it’s rude,” Levi insists quietly, still petting Cleo.

 

“It’s not.  It’s just really human.  And you’re really human. You had a really human reaction to a lot of Mom-stress,” Pearl says.

 

“It’s not just stress,” Levi points out, hoarse.  “She hurt me.”

 

“I know that, Levi.  I know she hurt you. And I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean to minimize that,” Pearl apologizes.  “What do you need right now? What would Dad say?” she tries.

 

“Nothing,” Levi answers, blinking back tears.  “He never knew, Pearl. He never figured it out.  You know that.”

 

Pearl closes her eyes.  “And that’s not fair. You deserved to have help and safety.  If I’ve never told you… I’m so, so sorry. I know you and Dad were there because of me.  Because you were hoping to meet me. If I’d known, I would have been there, Levi, I swear.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” Levi says, absolving her.

 

“It’s not yours either,” Pearl tells him.  “All of us should have come through for you.  I’m so sorry we didn’t.”

 

“I wrote you a note,” Levi admits.  “Sometime after it?”

 

Pearl’s heart stutters in her chest.  “You did? What did it say?”

 

Levi presses his lips together, like he’s thinking about how much to tell her.  Perhaps editing the contents in his head:

 

“I just...wanted you to come find me,” Levi admits.

 

\--

 

**_Jaimie:_ **

_ I really need you to know…  That can never happen again, Michael. _

 

**_Michael:_ **

_ I hear you.  So sorry. Need to talk about it anymore? _

 

**_Jaimie:_ **

_ Pearl and Fran followed up with me.  Tried. Couldn’t even talk to my best friend about it, ‘cause he’s the one that did it. _

 

**_Michael:_ **

_ I know.  I shouldn’t have.  Jesus gave me the 3rd degree inside, too.  About why you reacted how you did. I told him that was your business to share or not.  But he wanted to know if I’d hurt you. _

 

**_Jaimie:_ **

_ And?  What’d you say? _

 

**_Michael:_ **

_ That I had not.  But that I had tried to touch you without asking you first and that was my mistake. _

 

**_Jaimie:_ **

_ And? _

 

**_Michael:_ **

_ I think it dented our trust.  I know it dented OUR trust, babe.  I’m sorry. _

 

**_Jaimie:_ **

_ I don’t need you to live in debt to me forever, Michael, I just need to know I’m safe with you.  Am I? _

 

**_Michael:_ **

_ You are.  You need space?  You got it. But I’m here, too.  If you need me. _

 

**_Jaimie:_ **

_ Fran thought married couples get married so they can touch / kiss whenever they want and don’t have to ask.  She thought I was in the wrong. _

 

**_Michael:_ **

_ Damn.  Seems I reinforced some archaic gender stuff for her.  I’m sorry again. You’re not to blame, Jaim. It’s me. _

 

**_Jaimie:_ **

_ About to check in w/ Dom and then head to bed. _

 

**_Michael:_ **

_ Need the room tonight? _

 

**_Jaimie:_ **

_ Only if you’re in it.  And only if we can ressurect enthusiastic consent _

 

**_Michael:_ **

_ Hell yes, we can.  Be there in a min. Love you.  Thanks for talking. _

 

**_Jaimie:_ **

_ Love you, too. _

 

\--

 

Pearl is pretty sure her heart might never stop breaking.  The image of little eight-year-old Levi attempting to reach out to her before she even knew he existed has Pearl gutted.

 

“And I wanted to find you,” she has to force the words out.  Levi deserves to know this.

 

“You didn’t.  You didn’t know about me or Dad or anything.  But you were the only grown person I knew who might...believe what she’d done.  I wanted you to find me so we could tell Dad together. So I could stop being terrified all the time…” he whispers, haunted.

 

Pearl tries to just listen.

 

“Sounds like it was awful for you.  Not being able to tell your mom, or Dad any of this…  And I absolutely would’ve believed you, Levi. No question.  I’m glad you had that sense.”

 

“I always thought...I mean, I loved Dad.  Like, a lot. But I always thought he maybe loved you more…” Levi admits.

 

“He loved me first,” Pearl clarifies, gentle, “Because I’m ancient.  But there’s no way he loved me more.”

 

“I always thought you were the best kid, so that’s why I was always trying to be the best, too.  Because even with how good you were and how much he obviously loved you…”

 

“He still left,” Pearl finishes.  “I know. It’s hard for me to give him the benefit of the doubt.  Especially knowing that he ended up leaving me and eventually you in the care of someone so dangerous.”

 

“He said he got taken in by her,” Levi remembers.  “It’s so hard for me to give him the benefit of the doubt knowing that.  Knowing that he knew he was fooled.”

 

“You didn’t do anything wrong.  Nothing you did made him leave you there,” Pearl says, certain.

 

“How do you know?” Levi challenges, quiet.

 

“I don’t.  And I’m not excusing his actions either time.  I’m saying...that we don’t have all the information.”

 

“So, you forgive him?” Levi asks, his eyes red.

 

“I have to try,” Pearl admits.  “I’m not saying you need to. You do what’s best for you.”

 

There’s a long silence.  So long, that Pearl wonders if Levi’s done talking, when he finally speaks again.  “The thing is… When he didn’t come back for me in five minutes? When everything changed forever after that?  I couldn’t hate him. I just hated myself more.”

 

“I can definitely relate to that.  Often, no matter how our parents treat us, even if they mean well?  We’re more prone to let them off the hook, for some of the worst actions.  And instead, we put ourselves there. Think that if we could just be better, maybe, we’d have been treated as such.”

 

“Do you hate me?” Levi asks.

 

“I don’t,” Pearl tells him, looking him right in the eyes.  “Not one bit. I never have. I was confused when we first met.  Betrayed. But that was on  _ her  _ for lying to me, not on you for finding me.  Do you hate me? For being the one Dad apparently always talked about like I hung the moon?”

 

Levi cracks a tiny smile.  “I don’t. But you know he actually did say that?  ‘ _ Your sister, she hung the moon...but don’t you worry.  You hung the sun. ‘Cause you’re my  _ son _.’ _ ”

 

“Oh my God…  He was so corny…” Pearl gasps between laughter.

 

“Yeah, he was.  Always just that corny,” Levi’s smile looks worn at the edges.

 

“Well, you brightened up  _ my _ life.  That’s for sure,” Pearl remarks.

 

Levi’s mouth drops open in surprise.  “Are you sure he was only around until you were four?  Because that’s definitely something he would say…”

 

“Aw,” Pearl wipes a tear from her eyes.  “You just made my night.”


	112. Light Up

When Francesca wakes up, it takes her a second to realize where she is.  Not in her bed at home. Not in Dominique’s bed or on her air mattress. She’s on her air mattress at Jesus’s.  Right. After they watched that one show on bizarre food last night, she fell right asleep and Jesus tucked her in here.

 

In the next second, Fran is the happiest ever because it’s finally the weekend!  This has been the longest week of Fran’s life. It’s been so hard going to school every day, especially with Mama there.  Especially knowing Pearl and Levi are here visiting and she has to waste like seven hours of each day at school when she could be with her friends.

 

She checks out the futon.  Jesus and Dudley are still asleep.  Levi’s door is even still closed.

 

Fran messages Avoider Chat:

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Good morning!  Is any one else awake? _

 

She scrolls up and sees the message from Dominique last night about singing.  About how she has to be the only one in charge of if she sings or not. Francesca adds:

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ P.S. I will not ask or fourse you to sing, Dominique. [line of heart emojis] _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Good morning, Fran.  I’m awake. How are you? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Exited it is the weekend!  So I finnally get to stay with you guys all day! _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ That is excellent news!  What do you think we should do for breakfast?  Do you think Jesus would mind if I came over and cooked? _

 

Francesca almost takes a picture of Jesus and Dudley on the futon together because they look so cuddly and funny there, but she stops at the last second, thank goodness, remembering consent and boundaries.

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Oops I almost broke a boundary [sad emoji] _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Sounds like you caught yourself in time!  Good work! _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Anyways IDK what Jesus will think bc he’s sleeping still.  So is Levi. I’m the only one awake here in this whole apt.  I really want to watch TV. _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ I’m the only one awake in Dominique’s apartment right now, too.  (I think.) You could talk to me. How do you feel about pancakes? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ [sends a sticker of happy pancakes] _

 

Francesca’s sent every single pancake gif there is, probably, to Avoiders Chat, just passing the time.  When Jesus says, “Mmm” and stretches.

 

She jumps.

 

“Hey.  Sorry, buddy,” Jesus apologizes.

 

“Pearl wants to know if she can come over and make pancakes for breakfast.  Can she?” Fran wonders.

 

“Let me get dressed first,” he says.

 

“Do I have to, too?” Fran wonders, yawning and stretching so much that she tips over.  Luckily the air mattress is soft.

 

“You might want to...just to be sure you’re warm enough,” he offers.

 

“Oh darn, I can’t,” Fran says, not disappointed at all.  “Levi’s sleeping where the closet and all my clothes are.”

 

She watches as Jesus smiles a little and gathers all his clothes from the foot of the futon.  Jesus is always prepared. He picks up his phone and sends a thumbs up to Avoiders Chat and then goes into the bathroom.

 

In like, three seconds, Pearl is there.  She texts Fran, asking to be let in.

 

Fran pulls the door open.  “You could’ve knocked, you know?” Fran whispers, giving Pearl a hug.

 

“Well, yes, but it can be jarring to hear first thing in the morning,” Pearl explains walking in and closing the door behind her.

 

“Are you doing the thing where you talk about trauma without actually talking about it?” Fran asks.

 

“That I am,” Pearl nods.

 

She looks through Jesus’s pantry and finds all the things she needs.  Fran volunteers to be the trusty assistant. She can hear Jesus turn on the fan in the bathroom and knows that Levi has a noise machine going in his room.  

 

Still, she tries to be quiet.

 

“Why don’t people say what they mean?” Fran wonders.

 

“Do you mean, like with trauma stuff?” Pearl asks.

 

“Yeah,” Fran nods.  “Hey. Can we have hot chocolate, too?”

 

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea,” Pearl says.  Cleo is in her arms and tries to smell everything. “And usually, I speak more generally about trauma, if it’s about someone else.”

 

“I don’t get it,” Fran wrinkles her brow.  She’s taken the cover off of Jesus’s flour and is touching the soft whiteness with her fingers.

 

“Okay.  Let’s not touch the ingredients, please,” Pearl cautions.  “Did you wash your hands?”

 

Fran sighs.  “You didn’t answer my question, even.”  She walks to the sink and squirts a ton of Jesus’s foamy soap on her hands and washes them.

 

“I’m sorry.  You’re right.  I don’t say exactly what I mean when I’m talking about other people’s trauma.  To respect their privacy.”

 

“Oh,” Fran says, drying her hands.  “Oh, can I rub the butter on the pan, please?  I love the sizzling sound.”

 

“That’s gonna be a no.  I’m sorry. This is really hot and I don’t want you getting burned.  But,” Pearl goes out to the table where she’s put all the dry ingredients.  “You can measure this stuff out and mix it.”

 

“We’re supposed to do it together, though,” Fran objects.  “I’m not good at math or measuring.”

 

It’s at that minute exactly that Levi’s door opens and he comes to the table.  “Hey. I can help. I’m good at math,” he offers.

 

At the same time, Jesus comes out of the bathroom.  He does a double take. Fran knows it’s because he was listening to Brandon’s piano music on his phone while he took his shower and stuff.  He gets kinda lost in the music sometimes.

 

“Oh.  Fran. I thought I said wait until I was dressed, buddy,” Jesus comments, like he’s bothered a little bit.

 

“I’m sorry,” Pearl apologizes.  “That was my mistake. I saw your thumbs up and thought you meant it was good if I came over now.”

 

“Nah, it’s fine,” Jesus shakes his head.  “I mean, I’m ready now.”

 

\--

 

To be honest, it’s more than a little weird to come out of the bathroom and have like, three people all in his kitchen.  In one sense, it’s unexpected, so Jesus’s guard is up. But in another sense, it’s kinda reassuring. Like being at the cabin used to feel.  Not having to worry about meal prep.

 

Jesus tries to lean into the reassuring side of things and not be too irritated by the unexpected.  He feeds Dudley and sits, trying not to feel like a bump on a log just watching Fran, Pearl and Levi taking care of everything.

 

He’s relieved when Dudley’s ready to go out.  Cleo’s on pancake duty with Pearl, so Jesus doesn’t offer to take her out.

 

Jesus excuses himself and takes the elevator down.  Waits for the swish of the automatic doors after Dudley happily hits the button.  Then, Jesus is outside.

 

(Braced for noise.  The endless clicks of cameras.  Strangers all shouting the name that could get him killed.)

 

Sometimes, things still catch him off guard.  This time, it’s the doors and the whir that remind him a little too much of the doors of a hospital in LA.

 

“Hi, Jesus,” someone calls out.  

 

Jesus doesn’t recognize the voice, so he tunes them out.  He’s gotten used to this. It’s not something he enjoys, but it happens.  More now with the pics of him and Mari getting out this past Spring. Strangers who know his face wanting to talk, or wanting a picture, or wanting to let him know they prayed for him.

 

(It has Jesus so relieved that Dominique’s not here to see this.  That he’s managed to keep her in the dark about just how often it happens.)

 

Jesus is making his usual slow loop on the sidewalk around the apartment with Dudley when suddenly, a jogger is side by side with him.

 

“I thought that was you,” she says, winded.

 

She fits the type.  White. Middle-aged.  Busy-body. Kinda reminds him of Stef, a little.  Even more of Pearl’s mom, who recognized him just like this not so long ago.

 

Dudley shoves his way right between the woman and Jesus.

 

Jesus doesn’t feel like talking right now.  Doesn’t feel like dealing with this shit.  

 

“So, how are you doing?” this woman asks, like they’ve known each other for years.  ( _ She’s _ known  _ of him _ for years, probably, but Jesus has no idea who she is.)  “Ten years, huh?” she presses.

 

“Ma’am,” Jesus finally grinds out and she looks elated at being addressed.  “I’m trying to walk my dog.”

 

“Dudley, right?” she asks.

 

Jesus feels a chill across his neck that has nothing to do with it being mid-October.  How the hell does she know Dudley’s name?

 

She must read the question on his face because she leans in, conspiratorial, like they’re old friends: “Oh, I’m not a stalker, I promise.  It was on the website your Moms ran for your sister.”  

 

Jesus’s mind is racing.  Reeling. 

 

“Can I get a picture?  My friends will never believe this…”

 

He’s out of patience.  “Go away.”

 

Jesus picks up the pace to a jog and makes his way back into the apartment, relieved as a glance behind him reveals the woman standing where she’d been, phone out, texting.

 

\--

 

Fran jumps again (the second time today) when Jesus barges back inside the apartment, all loud.  Pearl jumps, too. Levi, three. She loves being not-alone.

 

“Is Mariana up?” Jesus asks.

 

Fran gestures at the whole apartment, because it’s obvious she’s not here.

 

“What happened?  Are you okay?” Pearl asks, stacking perfect, fluffy pancakes on top of each other.

 

Fran doesn’t think anything is wrong, but then again, Pearl is older.  Maybe she picks up on more wrongness vibes than Fran can.

 

Jesus rushes over to Fran.  Sits in a chair in front of her.  Looks so serious like she might be in bad trouble.  

 

Fran gulps, eyes wide.

 

He blinks.  Shakes his head a little.  Breathes and tells her: “Hey, buddy.  I’m sorry for coming on too strong, okay?  You’re not in trouble. I just… I have a really important question for you.”

 

“What?” Fran asks, and she’s so embarrassed.  It sounds like a croaky man voice when she talks.

 

“I need you to tell me if you know anything about a website that Moms have.  Maybe about anybody in our family?” Jesus asks.

 

Fran squints at him.  “Moms hate social media, Jesus.  They’d never have a website, I don’t think.”

 

\--

 

Levi freezes, just behind Francesca.  

 

_ This cannot be happening right now. _

 

He casually comes around the back of Jesus.  Watches over his shoulder as he Googles:  _ jesus adams foster sister blog moms _ .

 

The search results show all kinds of things.  Links to news stories featuring the family. YouTube videos.  But no LovingLink. It allows Levi to breathe a sigh of relief.

 

Jesus turns slowly, regarding Levi.  “What do you know about this?” he asks quietly.

 

“What?  What do you mean?” Levi asks.

 

“I mean...you looked...like I caught you...when I mentioned a website.  Now, you’re relieved. What do you know, Levi?”

 

“I really couldn’t say…” Levi says, looking away.

 

“Guys, please don’t fight, okay?  Please? Let’s just eat pancakes and have a nice time…” Francesca begs.

 

“Yes, let’s take it easy,” Pearl jumps in.  “If Levi can’t say, he must have a good reason.  You two have a solid friendship. You can trust each other.  Trust that Levi has a good reason for saying what he has,” Pearl insists gently.

 

“I need to talk to Mariana,” Jesus decides.

 

“She’s still asleep.  Just sit down,” Pearl urges.  “Have something to eat. Whatever’s going on?  We’ll help you sort it out.”

 

Jesus blows out another breath and scoots his chair in at the table.  Dudley stays close.

 

Levi feels like the actual worst right now.

 

Who’s relieved that their friend is distressed?  Who hides behind privacy because he’s too big a chicken to admit  that he knows exactly which blog Jesus means?

 

Levi doesn’t want to think about how Jesus found out about it.  

 

He knows Mariana was hoping Jesus would never have to know.


	113. One More Try

Jesus tries to just sit down and eat some pancakes, like Pearl suggests.  They do help. Levi and Fran slather theirs in peanut butter and maple syrup.  Jesus tries it, too. (Seriously, maybe the flavor combo will help him forget about the random woman outside.)

 

“By the way, Jesus, who was that lady talking to you?” Fran asks, popping a bite of pancake in her mouth.

 

“What lady?” Pearl asks.

 

“Seriously, did you know her? Fran presses.

 

“No,” Jesus answers, swallowing.  “That’s the reason I gotta know whatever you know about this website crap, Levi…” Jesus tries again.  He knows enough to hold back on a lot of the details here - no need scaring Fran unnecessarily.

 

“Well, I really promise that I don’t know anything about a website by Moms,” Fran says, offering her pinky in solidarity.  “I even Googled. Nothing. Just the usual Brandon’s crappy interview and other stuff about you that you always say don’t read.  So I don’t.”

 

Jesus turns to Levi and regards him.  “Seriously. If you know something, please tell me.”

 

“I would if I could, I swear,” Levi says.

 

“Yeah, it’s probably because of privacy, like you were saying, Pearl, right?” Fran asks.

 

“Maybe,” Pearl nods.

 

When Fran is settled in front of the TV watching Disney Channel, Pearl and Levi pull Jesus aside.  “Okay, so really. What happened with this lady?” Pearl asks.

 

“She acted all...I don’t know...like overly familiar with me?  And she knew Dudley’s name,” Jesus says, regarding them.

 

Dudley glances up, interested.

 

“Is Dudley’s name not public knowledge?” Pearl asks.

 

“No,” Jesus shakes his head.  “But then she tried to reassure me she’s not a stalker she just knew his name off of some website Moms had going ‘about my sister.’

 

“Probably Fran or Mariana,” Pearl guesses.  “Don’t you think?”

 

“I mean, they’re the only two who’ve been at home since I’ve had Dudley.  Callie would probably flip if there was a site out there about her. Wait.  Callie.”

 

Jesus walks away from Pearl and Levi, closing himself in the bedroom with Levi’s air mattress and dials Callie.

 

“Jesus?  What’s wrong?” Callie asks.

 

“What do you mean?” he wonders, taken off guard.

 

“I mean, you never call unless something’s up. _Is_ something up?  Are Mari and Fran okay?”

 

“Why?” Jesus wonders.

 

“Come on, Jesus.  I know things have been tense.  What’s going on?” she presses.

 

“They’re fine.  At least, I think they are.  Mariana’s asleep. Fran’s watching cartoons.  But listen. Do you know anything about a website Moms have had since I’ve had Dudley?  Maybe...about Mari or Fran?” he asks.

 

There’s a long silence.  “Listen, I promised back in high school I’d never do anything like I did to you again.  And I haven’t. I promised I’d respect you. And I do.”

 

“So tell me,” Jesus insists.  “Do they have one?”

 

“Yes.  Right after Mariana’s accident, Brandon made Mama one of those sites for when people are in the hospital.  For mass-updating. I only saw the first couple entries. I tried to talk him out of it, Jesus, I swear. And I didn’t have any part of it.  Seriously, when they asked me to post pictures for them, I always refused…”

 

“There are pictures?” Jesus asks, breathless.

 

“They wanted to post...really vulnerable ones of Mari.  But I wouldn’t do it. What happened?”

 

Jesus gives Callie the short version.  “Are you sure you got the name right? Because I’m searching and there’s nothing like that…”

 

“Yeah, I’m sure.  But maybe it’s a good thing it can’t be found?  I mean, as upset as you are that the random woman knows Dudley’s name?  Think about--”

 

“Mariana,” they chorus together.

 

“I know.  God, I hope she hasn’t seen it…” Jesus prays.

 

\--

 

Levi’s decided that the place to be for right now is camped outside Dominique’s door.  (With Jesus in his room, there’s not really anywhere private for Levi to be and he wants to be there when Mariana wakes up.  Or as soon as possible, to try to give her a heads up about this.)

 

He swallows.  

 

Levi hates secrets.  Like, a lot. Living half his life with a major one means that now?  All secrets kinda feel like that.

 

And he gets that this one is different.  This is Mariana’s privacy he’s promised to protect.

 

\--

 

Mariana rolls over and Roberta meows loudly in protest.  Opening her eyes in time to see the cat scurry her way to the foot of the bed, Mariana can only guess that she rolled over and unknowingly squashed some part of unsuspecting Roberta in the process.

 

Dominique’s lying next to her, on her phone.

 

“No Fran?” Mari wonders.  Her head aches. She’d like to never think about yesterday again.

 

“No.  She slept over at Jesus’s,” Dominique responds.

 

“I need a shower,” Mariana moans.  “But I _hate_ showers.  They feel like they take years…  Not to mention, I’m not agile or whatever in the morning.  Totally gonna fall down your monkey bars. Whatever.”

 

“Nope,” Dominique grunts, scooting out of bed faster than Mariana thinks possible.  Before she knows it, Dom’s on the ground. “No one’s falling on my watch. Come down.  I’ll spot you.”

 

“What if I just wanna hang out up here forever.  Never shower,” Mariana asks rhetorically.

 

“I support that,” Dominique nods.

 

“But I do need to pee.  Damn. Okay fine.” Slowly, Mariana makes her way down the ladder, comforted that Dominique is there.

 

“Need anything in the shower?” Dominique asks.  “I mean, I know you’ve showered here before, but…I saw that bench thing Jesus brought over from your house?  It doesn’t look stable.”

 

“It’s not.  Better than nothing, but it’s not.  Stable,” Mariana confirms.

 

“Okay, hold on,” Dominique says.  Mariana watches, perplexed, as Dominique drags a heavy-duty wood-looking patio chair with a back and sides into the shower.

 

“Unsanitary…” Mariana remarks.

 

“I’m saying your safety matters more,” Dominique sets it up in the shower.  “What do you say? There?”

 

Mariana offers suggestions and Dominique scoots it until it looks like it’s in the ideal place.

 

“So...you shower.  I’m gonna Google shower chairs while you’re in there.  Maybe we can get Fran’s input, too. Get something that’ll work for both of y’all.”

 

Mariana blinks.  “With what money?”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Dominique answers in a silly voice.  “Take your time in there. Yell if you need something.”

 

Mariana takes Dom’s word for it.  Takes her time getting in the shower.  Feels infinitely more safe on the patio chair than she ever did on the bench Moms bought.  She’s relieved to find a lavender lemon shampoo and body wash combo and uses it, glad for less steps.

 

She’s through with showering when she realizes she is definitely stuck in here.  No towel. No clothes. Damn.  

 

“Hello?” Mariana calls.

 

“Hey,” Dominique responds.  Mariana’s heard the door crack open.  She guesses Dom has stuck her head in.  “Need something?”

 

“Towel?”

 

“To your left, on the rack.  The yellow one’s for you,” Dom reassures.

 

“Oh.  Okay.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Hold on!” Mariana remembers suddenly.  “Clothes. I forgot clothes. Can you…?” she asks, from behind the shower curtain.

 

“Sure.  I can get you some and set them on the sink for you.  Sound good?” Dominique reassures.

 

“Okay.  Thanks,” Mariana says.

 

\--

 

It’s after 1 PM when Mariana finally checks her phone:

 

**_Levi:_ **

_Text when you see this, please._

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_Sorry.  Didn’t see this until now.  You OK?_

 

**_Levi:_ **

_Yes.  Jesus isn’t though._

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_???_

 

**_Levi:_ **

_He knows your moms made a site.  Some weirdo told him. Totally random.  He’s onto me. I didn’t say anything, but I’m a horrible liar.  He can tell I know something. What do you wanna do?_

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_Tell him I know about it and it’s gone.  You can say we did it yesterday. I don’t wanna talk abt it.  But you can._

 

**_Levi:_ **

_Privately?  Just he and I?  Might be difficult as Pearl and Fran are here, too._

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_Tell them, too, then.  I don’t care._

 

**_Levi:_ **

_Wait.  For real?  Or did I just offend you?_

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_For real.  It’s gone. It can’t hurt them to know now that it’s gone.  Don’t tell about Google Doc though._

 

**_Levi:_ **

_Will do.  I think J was on the phone w/ Callie. Just a heads-up.  P.S. How’s your [heart emoji]?_

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_I squished Roberta.  Needed help down the bed.  Now Dom is [shower emoji] chair shopping.  Feel like the biggest pain in Dom’s ass ever [sad emoji]_

 

**_Levi:_ **

_Makes so much sense you feel like that given how Stef and Lena act.  But you are not a burden to us Avoiders. At all. We love you and want you to be safe._

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_Send Fran over?  To help look at shower chairs?  See which one will work for us?_

 

**_Levi:_ **

_Sure.  Maybe I’ll tell Jesus while she’s there with you.  P.S. You’re my fav and not a burden at all._

 

**_Mariana:_**

_OK.  You OK?_

 

**_Levi:_ **

_I mean...I’d rather not have J pissed at me.  It’s new and I don’t like it._

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_Once you tell him I think he’ll understand._

 

Mariana opens her messenger chat with just her and Jesus and sends:

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_Are you OK from the weirdo???  [heart emojis]_

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_...ish._

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_If you need me I can come over._

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_I’m okay for now.  Thx._

 

Then she’s eating a sandwich and waiting for Fran to come by.  There’s dread settled inside her, like it’s decided to make a permanent home in her body.  She can see Dom in her room on the laptop making notes.

 

In another minute or so there’s a heavy knocking on the door.  “Dominique, it’s Fran. Levi said I need to come over and help you and Mariana go shopping!”

 

“You got it,” Dominique calls back, getting up to let Fran in.

 

\--

 

“Hey, babe.  Nice PJ’s,” Dominique compliments.  “Pua the pig is always in style.”

 

“Right?”  Fran asks.  “I’m sorry I didn’t come back to sleep in your bed like I said I was going to.  Just...we were watching this bizarre food show and I fell asleep. What are we shopping for?”

 

“A shower chair.  For you and Mariana.  Since it’s for you two, I wanted you both to be in on it.  To see what would work. Mariana needs something with a back.  Pretty sturdy…”

 

“No offense, but I don’t need a shower chair,” Fran says.  “I can shower standing up.”

 

“You fell once,” Mariana points out.

 

“So did you,” Fran retorts.  “People fall in the shower. So what?”

 

“Hey.  We are not fighting about this,” Dominique interjects looking at Fran.  “Mariana’s looking out for you. I’m looking out for both of you. It doesn’t say anything bad about either one of you to look into stuff you need to shower.  Would you feel bad buying shampoo?” Dominique challenges gently.

 

“Not the same,” Fran says back.

 

“Remember the Caroline’s Cart?” Dominique asks softly.  

 

Fran nods, having made herself comfortable on Dominique’s lap after she patted it.  (Of course, Roberta tried to get up first, but Dom shooed her away.) “I guess so…”

 

“This is like that,” Dominique reassures.

 

“I’d want one like Mariana wants.  With a back. Maybe extra handles,” Fran offers.  “Right, Mari?”

 

Mariana nods.

 

“Okay.  We’ve got some options,” Dominique shows them.

 

“And like your chair not like the other one,” Mariana passes along.

 

“Okay.  What do you mean?” Dominique asks.

 

“Not, like, flimsy or whatever…” Mariana offers.  “Or slippery.”

 

“Okay, so that’s good feedback.  It has to have good legs. Slip-resistant.  What do we think about something like this?” Dominique shows them a chair.

 

Mariana and Francesca look at each other.  “I… We wouldn’t be able to build that…” Mariana objects.  “Like, if it didn’t come together.”

 

“We could ask my parents to help if you needed it,” Dominique offers.

 

“Or Jesus or Levi or Pearl.  They probably all know how to build stuff,” Fran offers.  “It’s a lot of money,” Fran observes. “Even more than my life jacket.”

 

“What’d we say about your life jacket?” Dominique reminds.

 

“I give up,” Fran says.

 

“We said, we don’t put a price on your safety,” Dominique reminds.  “Or yours,” she says, looking at Mariana.

 

“Can I _add to cart_?” Fran asks, reading the button on screen.

 

“Definitely.  Just hit it once, though.  We don’t need 17 shower chairs coming to my house.”

 

“Yes!  In two days we’ll have our very own shower chair!” Fran cheers.

 

“I feel...like a major pain in your ass...but thank you…” Mariana says sincerely while Fran claps a hand over her own mouth.

 

“You’re not a pain in my ass,” Dominique insists.  “You,” she takes Mariana’s hand, “and you,” squeezes Fran around the middle, “make each day so much better than it would be without you.”

 

\--

 

Pearl and Levi are just finishing cleaning up lunch dishes when Jesus finally comes out of the bedroom.

 

“Saved you a plate,” Pearl says.  “Nothing fancy. Just sandwiches, but…” she trails off, shrugging.

 

“Listen…  I gotta talk to you,” Levi tries.

 

“Got something to say to me now?” Jesus asks, a little testy.

 

“Yeah, I do.  Because I talked to Mariana, and she consented.  I wasn’t about to break her confidence,” Levi explans.

 

“What are you talking about?  Dude, Mariana cannot know about this…  I talked to Callie and it’s...it’s awful.  It must’ve been removed anyway because I can’t find it,” Jesus is freaked out.

 

“It was.  She found it.  It’s what she needed me for yesterday, Jesus.  We read it together. Then deleted it,” Levi passes along, serious.

 

Jesus’s sandwich stops, halfway to his mouth.  “Wait. What? She _read_ it?  That’s why she was texting me yesterday about her accident?”

 

Levi shrugs.

 

“Why would you let her read that?” Jesus insists.  “I thought you cared about her.”

 

“I _do_ care about her.  I supported her - read through it with her - _because_ I care about her.  Not because I don’t.  No one listens to her, Jesus.  Your moms don’t listen. They don’t talk to her.  And they don’t tell her anything. This was about her.  It was her right to know what they wrote about her,” Levi maintains.

 

Jesus breathes out.  Sits back in his chair.  Pets Dudley. “I know. I know that.  I do. It’s just...this whole thing freaks me the hell out.  I mean...I’m losing it because one complete stranger knows my dog’s name.  I can’t imagine what she’s… I mean, was she okay?”

 

“No,” Levi shakes his head. “I mean, would you be?  No. _She_ wasn’t. _I_ wasn’t.  It was…” Levi stops, lost for words momentarily.  “However bad you think it is? It’s worse than that.  For her.”

 

“God…” Jesus moans.

 

“The important thing to know here is...that Mariana and Levi had each other.  Levi was there for her. And the site’s gone now,” Pearl puts in gently.

 

“Yeah, but however many people have seen it over the last year and a half,” Jesus asks.

 

“And we can’t do anything about that,” Pearl comments quietly.  “And I’m sorry about that. I wish I could go back in time and make them rethink what they did.”

 

“I wasn’t holding out on you on purpose,” Levi tells Jesus, studying him.

 

“I know.  And I apologize, man.  I’m just...really raw over this,” Jesus manages, rubbing a hand over his face.

 

Levi doesn’t feel like it’s his place to agree.  To say, me too. Because it’s not his pain to own.  It’s Mariana’s. But there is something he _can_ say:

 

“She doesn’t wanna talk about it.  But she wanted you to know she’d seen it,” Levi passes along.

 

“Thanks.  For being there for her,” Jesus nods.  “For protecting her privacy.”

 

“Anytime,” Levi nods, feeling so much better now that this secret’s out in the open.


	114. Healing Begins

It’s honestly the last thing Mariana wants to do when Jesus texts her back for real and suggests Feelings Time at his place.  She doesn’t feel ready to unpack everything she’s feeling around the site. Or hear whatever Jesus has to say about it either.

 

It takes her an embarrassing five to ten seconds to realize that the rest of The Avoiders exist, too, and they deserve the chance to talk about whatever they need to.  Like Moms are always saying: the world doesn’t revolve around just her.

 

Ever since they left Moms’, their voices have been there in her head.  But especially now - since seeing the site - it feels like she’s sinking.  She’s overwhelmed at the reality that not only did Moms see her as this huge drain on them and their resources, but they told the world.

 

She wonders just how many strangers know.  How many read along with Moms? Followed along like her life was some damn soap opera.

 

She feels sucked dry.  Like a shell of a person.  No energy left to invest in anything.

 

Mari hopes Levi will at least sit by her.

 

\--

 

There they all are, gathered around Jesus’s table.  Mariana wishes for headphones. For sunglasses. For a giant bed in a dark room with quiet, and just the right questions.  Then maybe, she could begin to talk about this.

 

She looks at Levi, and he’s already coming around the table to sit with her.  Dominique’s on her other side. This feels good. Right. Fortifying.

 

“So, what do you wanna say about feelings, Mariana?” Fran asks.  “Because you always go first.”

 

“Don’t remind me…” Mariana says, glancing down at the table.

 

“You  _ don’t _ want to go  _ first _ ?” Fran asks, mock-shocked, her voice with too much inflection.  (A habit, she’s no-doubt picked up on from Moms. Stef, in particular, speaks sarcasm like a second language.)  “But I thought you always did. For accommodations.”

 

Mari’s face flames.  All she can hear is the sharp edges of the words, cutting into her as she’s suffocating under smothering-tons of pressure to say something.

 

“Remember that people’s wishes can change,” Levi reminds gently.  “Their comfort,” he squeezes Mariana’s hand, which she’s gotten a hold of and couldn’t let go of if she wanted to.

 

“Okay.  She doesn’t wanna go first,” Francesca decides.

 

“I think...it might help everybody if we could take some time to breathe.  Try to slow down,” Dominique advises. (Mariana’s glad that even though this advice is so totally for Fran, that Dom universalizes it so it applies to everyone.)

 

So, they breathe.  They get grounded. They become aware of what’s around them.  And who.

 

Mariana overhears without meaning to when Dominique whispers something extra to Fran.  “I know, we’re at a table now, babe. But it’s okay to be yourself. To relax. You’re not in trouble.”

 

“Yeah,” Levi adds.  “We’re all safe adults here.  You don’t need to go by unsafe adult rules.  Or try to be  _ on _ all the time.  Be some type of way because they are.  Besides, I think that might hurt people’s feelings.”

 

Mariana can feel it when Levi nods in her direction.

 

“Oh no…” Fran moans.  “What do I do? I just keep messing up all the time.”

 

“You told me once that when we cross boundaries?  It’s really important to apologize, right?” Pearl reminds gently. “Because we all make mistakes, but it’s important to learn from them.  To try and be just a little bit safer person next time around.”

 

“I don’t know what I did that was boundary-crossing…” Fran admits.

 

“Do you like it when your moms speak to like you talked to Mari?” Dominique wonders.  “With that sarcasm? That mean edge to their voice?”

 

“No…” Fran admits.  Then she’s out of her chair and walking over to Mariana (who is still intently focused on her sweats.)  “I’m sorry for doing too much sarcasm,” she says solemnly.

 

Mariana glances up.

 

Fran’s face matches her voice.  She’s so earnest.

 

Mariana opens her arms for a hug.  Then, when it’s over, she types a message in the notes section of her phone:

 

_ I read something really hard for me yesterday.  So I feel bad about myself. When I feel bad, words are hard. _

 

Fran reads the message and types another back:

 

_ What was it? _

 

Mariana responds, touched that Fran is meeting her where she is, not insisting she talk:

 

_ A website by moms all about me when I was in the hospital.   _

 

Francesca’s mouth drops open.  She looks so offended Mariana could hug her.  She types, furious, hitting the keys hard.

 

“Someone who’s a good speller, how do you spell  _ privacy _ ?” Fran asks.

 

“P-R-I--V-A-C-Y,” Dominique tells her, pausing halfway through.

 

_ Why???  That’s mean and rude and doesn’t let you have privacy! PS should I share this or is it private? _

 

Mariana takes a screen-shot and raises her eyebrows at Fran.  “If I send this?”

 

“Oh, you’re asking me?” Fran asks.  “I don’t care if you send it. I mean I consent and stuff.”

 

Mariana sends the image and pretty soon everyone’s phones ping with texts.  While she and Fran have been conversing, it’s been so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

 

**_Avoiders Chat:_ **

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ What do you say we do Feelings Time like this?  Mariana, would that work better? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Yes bc every one can participate if they want to.  Like, and they should be able to. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ If it’s not too big a thing…  Jesus are you mad? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ What?  No. I’m mad at Moms not at you.  I’m worried.   _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Why did they make a thing about you?  Do you think they made one about me when I was a baby? [worried emoji] _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ I hope not, buddy. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Mariana, are you okay, though?  Need to talk about anything? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Fine. Just feeling terrible. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ But we got a shower chair that’s good news, right? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Hey, Fran?  Let’s see if Mariana has anymore to say before we change the subject. [heart emoji] _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Oops, sorry, Mariana.  You can talk more. But you know no pressure. And no teasing. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ So glad it’s gone but...it’s like burned into my brain? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Where did it go? _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Mariana and I read it together yesterday.  That was the thing we did that was private.  Anyway, we deleted it after. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ [sends a sticker of a sloth celebrating] _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Mariana, what do you need from us?  Reminders you are not terrible? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Yes? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Moms always say the worst things about us.  They feel really true, right, Mari? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Yes. _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ It’s hard to forget the words a parent says about us.  Especially the negative ones. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ I think...maybe...we’re not saying forget?  Because it matters that they said those things.  It matters that they hurt you. Nobody’s saying forget and move on.  Just, we wanna try and be there to tell you the truth. So it doesn’t suck you in. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Truth Team! _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Truth team! _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Wait.  What’s a truth team???  Is this some lingo I’m not hip to? _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ We promised to tell Mariana what’s true about her.  Not the crap that Stef and Lena said. _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Ah.  Sounds like a good team.  Can I join? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ And me? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Me 3! _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ You can all be on it.  I need a big truth team. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ You are not what they said.  Okay? For real. They don’t get you.  They don’t try and they shouldn’t even have to try.  You’re their kid. They get to love you. That’s how it works and how they should view parenting.  It’s def how I view being your friend. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ How? _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ That the honor is all mine. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Levi, you talk just like a Disney prince. [heart emoji] _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Thank you? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ [sends a gif of Maui singing “You’re Welcome”] _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Mariana, does that make sense? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ In the way that I get what you’re saying but it seems so excessive and whatever.  Someone else please go. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ I’m a little bit disappointed in myself because I hurt your feelings Mari.  But I am doing good coping. Just so every body knows. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Proud of you for naming it and talking about it.  I know that’s hard. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ I am a little disappointed that you hurt my feelings, too.  But I’m also happy because you sent notes to me. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ What do you mean? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Just that Moms would have probably pushed me to talk.  You used to copy them. Say to use my words. [awkward emoji]  But you didn’t today and that made me happy. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Ew I’m sorry I said that growse thing to you.  I won’t say it ever. And I will try to never do mean-teasing like Stef does to you. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Thank you.  Anymore feelings, Fran? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Can I talk about Jesus and Fran Day?  Just like, yesterday? Not like, the actual day of us meeting? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Of course, buddy. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ … _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ [thumbs up] _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ So, I just wanna say thanks to you guys for helping me feel more loved when I needed it.  Levi, when you talked to me, that helped me alot. And Jesus, too. And Dominique, too. And Pearl and Mari just thanks for being nice to me even when I mess up. _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Anytime, Fran!  You deserve kindness. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Yes. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Glad I could help.  Sorry I had to bail early. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ But not sorry, because self care. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Can’t help thinking how Moms would be abt this. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ What? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ All of us, sitting in the same room, texting?   _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ YUP. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Oh yeah, they hate texting not talking! _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ So, suffice it to say, they don’t accommodate you, Mariana? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Wow!  Can we use 6th grade words please? [wide eyed emojis] _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Yes, sorry.  I can guess they wouldn’t text if you needed them to, Mariana? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ But then I’ll never ‘learn to talk’ according to them… _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ That’s so bogus. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Especially since you already know how to talk. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Dominique are you still sad for reasons?  Or are you better? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Dude, you’re sad?  What happened? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ It’s private.  I’m doing a thing Pearl taught me, okay? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Okay, my bad. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Still a little sad, yes.  But loved helping you two find the most perfect shower chair.   _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Oh cool! Y’all found one! _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Yup!  With a back and sides and sturdy enough so it will never move.  Unless we move it. That’s what the reviews said. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Our dad would have loved that.  I mean… _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Levi, it’s okay to talk about Dad. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Maybe not this.  Maybe he’d be embarrassed. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Because shower chairs are embarrassing? [sad emoji] _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ I think...maybe because showering is private? _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ [thumbs up] _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Jesus, are you okay?  You did not share. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Buddy, are you the foreperson? [heart emoji] the person who makes sure everybody gets the chance to speak? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Yes, so you should have the chance if you want to. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Well...it’s missing kid stuff.  And I wanna respect Dominique. And Mariana.  Are you both okay if I share this one thing? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Is it The Weirdo? (Sorry Dom, too eager.) _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Can I have more info?  What kind of thing? (You’re okay, M) _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ A being recognized in public thing? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Can you go kinda slow?  Check in? Maybe don’t say it all at once? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Yes.  Thanks for telling me what would help.  So this lady recognized me when I was walking Dudley today. (OK so far Dom?  Need to pause? Or stop?) _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ (Okay so far, yes.)  What did she want? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ What they all want. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ And I’m done.  Can you please delete that, Jesus?  The last thing? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Sorry I think it’s stuck there [sad emoji] _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ I know!  If we keep talking the scary thing will just vanish up above with all the rest.  Come on guys! We can do this! _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Great idea Fran!  Dom how is Roberta today? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_...Mad as hell that I stepped on her…. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ You stepped on Roberta??? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Not on purpose, babe. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ I love Roberta.  But I think I am not really an animal person. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ She’ll be okay.  Her fault for not getting out of the way and sleeping in my bed like she’s a person. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ I’m sorry Dominique. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ You can keep going.  Just...keep checking.  And stop if I need to? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Anyway, you guys kinda all know the way people get when they recognize me, right?  I think all of you have seen it? _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ I haven’t but you told me.  So no details necessary. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Anyway, this lady knew Dudley’s name and she must’ve read my face that it freaked me out. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Well, yeah!  A complete stranger knowing Roberta’s name would freak me out, too!  (Keep going if you want) _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ So she’s like, “I’m not a stalker, I just know his name off of the website your moms made about your sister.” _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Wow. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ So then what did you do?  Did you punch her right in the schnozz? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ ROTFL.  OMG Fran, I love you. _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ He’s an adult.  He can’t go punching people. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ And where do you know a word like schnozz? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ From a movie! _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ No.  I didn’t punch her.  I walked away. I came inside and talked to you guys.  Positive coping, right? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Yeah, but how do you feel about it? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Dominique why is your neck jumping? _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ You need to stop? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ That is my pulse.  I don’t need to stop. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ I thought your pulse was in your wrist… _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ We can ask about how Jesus and Levi are feeling, Dominique.  You don’t have to. Does that sound okay?   _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ It sounds excessive, but if you insist… _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ We do. _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ In a friend way.  Anything else, Mariana? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ And how about if we restate that everyone’s safe here from every kind of violence.  Nobody’s mad. Nobody’s gonna hurt anybody. Nobody has to do anything they don’t want to do. _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Right.  Nobody’s life under threat. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ None of the boys talk to Dominique right now, okay?  She might want it to be just us girls. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ [thumbs up emoji] _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Can you calm down? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ We’ll see. _


	115. Everywhere I Go

Levi’s trying to be extra cognizant of his interactions with Dominique.  Mariana’s between them. Fran’s on Dom’s other side. Then Jesus. Then Pearl beside Levi again.

 

It’s different having Feelings Time like this.  But not so different as it might’ve been now that he and Mari spent most of yesterday communicating in all types of ways about the site.

 

The thing is, he’s still feeling pretty raw.  About the site. About dinner last night. And he feels like he’s already had a chance to say his piece.  He should really sit back and let the others have a chance to share.

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ How do you feel about the weirdo Jesus? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Made me feel super paranoid, TBH...but I feel like I shouldn’t even say that.  Given that it sounds like they did way worse to you… _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Don’t compare, guys.  I know it must be difficult, being twins.  But it doesn’t benefit either one of you to minimize your own experiences. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ I’m just saying, I get that it prob sounds like I am making a massive deal over nothing. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ And we’re saying it doesn’t. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Well, it kinda does… _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Ooh… _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Sorry, didn’t mean to speak for you, Mari. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ But that’s not me saying you can’t have feelings about it, Jesus.  P.S. Dom how are you? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Getting a handle on myself.  Slowly. Can I have more time? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Yes, you can have all the time you need.  We will wait for you, because avoiders don’t leave any one behind. [heart emojis] _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Thank you, Fran. _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ So, is it okay if we keep talking to each other and check in with you in a bit again? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Yes. _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ That won’t make you feel overlooked or ignored? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ No.  I need the attention off me.  Just don’t forget. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Never.  Jesus, seriously you can talk about it. _

 

Levi watches as Jesus whispers something to Pearl.  Then as Pearl types:

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Dominique, are you okay if Jesus talks more about his feelings about this?  Or do you need a break? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Fran, can you share something good about school first?  Like a happy moment? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Oooh okay!  Does it have to be from this year or can it be from any? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Any year. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Okay so...guess what?  In fourth grade, we got to have crayfish.  And I named mine Chase Baby Claw Adams Foster!  (That is not the story.) The story is, Moms would not let me keep Chase at our house, so Isabella offered to take him.  And now she still brings me videos and pictures and stuff of Chase and her crayfish Murray. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Nice.  How are Chase and Murray? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Good.  They are brothers and Isabella takes care of them and loves them both the same. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ I’m glad to hear Chase has a safe home with Isabella.  Okay. I’m ready. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ (I’ll go slow.)  So it’s just...I don’t like people knowing stuff about me?  And especially the existence of some oversharey blog thing. I didn’t even know about it, you know?  Seemed like everybody might’ve known about it but us, Mari. Callie knew. B. Moms. Prob Jude. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Hey, I did not know about the oversharey blog. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ I know buddy.  I’m just saying.  It makes me feel unsafe. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Made me feel like a shadow. _

 

\--

 

Fran watches as Dominique shivers.  She sets her phone down and goes to find anything she can.  All the blankets here are Jesus’s or Levi’s, and Dominique can’t have boy stuff right now.  Finally, Fran spots Slothy shoved in the crack of the futon and gets him.

 

“Here, you wanna hold Slothy for a while?” she asks, offering.

 

Dominique blinks and nods.  “Yeah. Thanks.”

 

Then, Fran sits back down.  She watches Dom not look at Mariana.

 

\--

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Sorry was that too much Dom? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ I’m just well-versed in being a shadow is all. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ But Mariana and Dominique we are your truth team, right?  So you are not shadows your people. Humans. We see you, right Pearl? _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Absolutely, Fran.  We do see you. I understand what you read made you feel like a shadow, Mariana.  But it didn’t make you into one. You’re here with us. Dominique, you’re here with us.  Okay? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ I know I just feel so worthless [sad emoji] _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Same. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Is it okay to feel worth less? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Why do you ask buddy? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Bc I think I feel that alot to. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ I think it’s good to be able to name your feeling.  To know what it is. But where it might get dangerous?  Is thinking the negative feelings are the only real ones ever. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ So what do me and Dominique and Mariana do? _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ (And me.) _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ And Levi. _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Well, Mariana’s got her truth team, right?  So maybe we promise to keep being that for each other?  Tell each other the truth about who we are.   _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Such as? _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ That Mariana, you are enough.  Whatever your moms said? That was about them, not you.  We love you just the way you are. You deserve dignity and privacy and that should never have been exploited at all. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Hell yes.  I second this! _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Dominique, you’re not invisible.  We see you. We notice you. You don’t always have to be okay for us to want you around. We want you to be as honest as you can safely be. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Yes, because we are not going to hurt you no matter what! _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Francesca, you are smart and helpful.  We know your moms treat you otherwise but we know you deep down inside.  It is okay to want to know who you are. It’s okay that you found Timothy.  We are proud of you for talking to us. For coping well. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Definitely.  Fran, you’ve had a lot to deal with this week, and you’ve done so well with all of it.  Love you. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Thank you.  And thank you Pearl and Levi for coming when we really needed you.  That’s what family does, right? Real family like us? _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Yes and [Levi sends a gif of Maui singing “You’re Welcome”] _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ And Levi, I know you’ve had a tough time lately, and felt a lot of bad feelings because of it.  But what was done to you doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes HER a bad person. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ No offense Pearl but are you talking about your mom being Levi’s trauma? _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Yes. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Okay.  Keep going. _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ And Jesus, just in case you need it…  You’re a human being. You’re gentle and kind and caring.  You don’t have to abide nosey people. It’s totally okay to walk away.  We will not walk away from you. We are going to stay. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ [heart emojis] _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ NONE OF YOU ARE WORTHLESS. [heart emojis] _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Pearl, you are not either.  We know boundaries and realness and consent hasn’t really been your 1st language so to speak...but you learned it well.  You are a good example to all of us. Not of overcoming trauma but to keep learning and growing. I know your mom was terrible and your dad couldn’t stay for whatever reason.  But we want you. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Yes, we want you, Pearl.   _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Gosh, all this love.  What do I do with all this love? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Feel it?  It IS feelings time… _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Francesca, you’re amazing. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Thanks you are such a good speller and thanks for helping make me one to. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Avoiders, I think I’m okay.  Thanks for hanging in with me.   _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ So, does that mean Jesus and Levi can talk to you now? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Yes.  Thanks for remembering to check. _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Jesus, you were saying you felt unsafe because of the person today.  I just want to say that makes so much sense. I still get nervous interacting with strangers myself.   _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ I just...it always makes me feel like...why couldn’t have anyone recognized me back Then?  When I really needed it? Now when I don’t they won’t leave me alone… _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ That does sound annoying.  Really surprised nobody found you.  You were on the news enough. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Some times I wish I remembered Jesus being on the news… _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ No.  It was sad and hard.  You would’ve just missed him more [sad emoji] _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ It would’ve been like you were famous though!   _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Remember consent, buddy? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Yeah. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ People mostly become famous because they want to.  I didn’t want to. Like with the lady today. I just wanted to be left alone. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Oh.  That’s how come you don’t want me to watch any news videos about you on YouTube?  Because you did not consent for them to take the videos? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Right. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Okay.  Thanks for explaining. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Levi, are you OK? _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Why do you ask? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Because you’ve been quiet. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ I can just relate is all. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Did some one try to make you famous and you didn’t want to be? _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Somebody filmed me without my consent.  When I was a kid. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Oh no!  Who was it???? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Buddy, he might not wanna say. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Nah, I don’t mind.  But it might not be okay with everyone… _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ It’s okay with me if you want to share. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Same. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Same. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Okay, but it still might not be okay. _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ It is 100% okay with me, Levi. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ If it really is, can you say?  I’d rather not… _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ It was my mother. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Oh no…  That’s how come she’s your trauma, huh? _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ One major reason, yeah.  There are others I don’t wanna talk about. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ But you don’t have to ever see her again right??? _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ That’s right.  We all have the right to avoid unsafe situations and people.  Levi doesn’t ever have to see her again. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Levi, need to share anymore?  How’s your heart? _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ I feel selfish.  Making these moments about me.  When you had so much more of a hard time yesterday and you’ve barely gotten to talk about it. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ OK but I can’t unpack it all at once.  Helps to sprinkle stuff in w/ what you guys are saying. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Mari, Callie said there were pics on the site? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Yeah, like remember the one of us from when I was hospitalized?  That Lena just shared on our bday? That was there. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ I don’t like that picture [sad emoji]  It looks like you hurt very bad, Mari. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Prob was. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Do you still not remember? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ A little more now, unfortunately. [awkward emoji] _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Right?  So much oversharing. _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Dominique, still okay? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Just remembering how much I hated school picture day after. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Because you did not consent? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ And because I looked a lot different, babe.  I didn’t like how I looked. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ I don’t remember you looking any way but this way. [heart emoji] _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ I relate so hard, Dom.   _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Yeah? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Yes.  Not exactly the same but...it’s some specific thing you have to get used to.  Like when your face changes. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Thank you for validating that.  It helps. And thanks for not forgetting to check in with me, even though I am okay. _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ We’re doing our best to be more aware and respectful of each other. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Pearl, what about you? _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Well, without compromising privacy.  There was a moment recently...where I...I guess, for lack of a better word, I recognized myself? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ How do you mean? _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Not sure I can explain it well.  Just...it made me realize...I haven’t had to be that scared in a long time.  And it made me think that Levi, you shouldn’t have to be either. I know we’ve been talking for a while about relocating here eventually.  I want to not just talk about it. I want to take steps to do that. Assuming you’re okay with it, Levi. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Please!  I need to get out of there. _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ So, can one of you (Jesus or Dominique) point us in the right direction sometime soon, for paperwork, or whatever we might have to do to apply to live here eventually? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ You guys are going to live here!  No fair! I wanna live here, toooo. (Oops sorry about the whining Jesus) _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ It’s okay, buddy.  I want you and Mari to live here too.  And the whining? It’s more if I hear it.  And I can totally connect you to the info, P and L. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Some day can we all really live here together?  Please? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ I look so forward to that day. _


	116. How Far We've Come

It makes Francesca feel good knowing that someday she and all The Avoiders will get to live together.  But she is still sad about a lot of things. It’s almost Monday again and Mondays are the worst, ever since last Monday.

 

She needs to talk but doesn’t know how okay it is to.  About Monday and Timothy and everything.

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ I have a question. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ What? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Is it…  Like, can I talk about Monday?  About Moms? And Timothy maybe, to? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Of course. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ But is it okay with every one?  Like, Pearl and Levi it won’t make you sad abt your dad to hear me talk abt Timothy?  Dominique and every one it won’t make you feel trauma if I talk abt Stef and Lena? _

 

Fran waits until everybody says it’s fine if she wants to share.

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ What’s on your mind, buddy? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Just...I feel like the worst for finding Timothy. 1) bc of Moms and 2) bc he didnt even look at me or talk to me at all and that was rude. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Do you know how it made you feel?  When Timothy ignored you? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Invisable.  I feel that way alot so I know the feeling. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ You feel invisible a lot, so it’s familiar to you.  A feeling you’d recognize. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Yeah. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Buddy?  How do you feel when you feel invisible?  Can you tell? The emotion? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Invisable is my feeling. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Can I tell you something? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Of coarse. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Feeling invisible is familiar for me, too.  But underneath that feeling? I feel...degraded.  That means I feel like I feel like I deserve less respect.  Less dignity. I feel...small. I feel afraid. I feel my trauma.  What do you feel, Fran? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ I feel like a tiny speck.  I feel like I’m nothing. I don’t matter one inch. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ So, Timothy ignoring you made you feel insignificant? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Is that tiny speck feeling? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Yes.  Have you felt tiny speck feeling before? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Yes every day _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Where?  Can you be specific? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Home and school.  Everywhere. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ So sorry, babe.  You are doing so good talking about your feelings, though.  I’m proud of you. I know it’s hard work. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Fran, when T ignored you?  I felt tiny speck feeling too.  Mine goes all the way back to when Jesus and I were babies. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ You felt that too, for me? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Yes, I felt like I had to protect you.  I never would have brought you if I thought he was going to ignore you, Fran.  I hope you know that. I thought he’d say hi at least.   _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ PS who would ignore babies?  That is so mean. [sad emoji] _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Our bio mom. _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ So sorry to both of you.  (And Fran - you did not deserve for Timothy to ignore you.) _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ I am sorry too.  If I was your mom I would not ignore you.  I would give you blankets and bottles and sing to you and hold you just like how you guys did for me.  Bc that’s what your suppost to do for babies. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Thank you Fran.  You’re sweet. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ I hate that you were neglected like that [sad emoji] _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Sucks. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ It’s weird thinking that Pearl is the same age as Ana… _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ While it’s kind of a touchy subject for me - babies and teenagedom - I’d like to believe that, had it been me?  I’d have taken care of you. Or at least made sure you were as safe as you could be, if I could not. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Touchy for me, too… _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ We’re sorry Dom and Pearl.  We don’t have to talk about things that are hard. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Right, we don’t.  But thank you, Pearl. I wonder if that’s not why...like, part of the reason I gravitated to you back in the day.  The similar age gap. One I recognized? Okay really stopping now. _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ That makes a lot of sense. _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ It does.  I can relate. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Fran, did you wanna talk anymore about Monday / Stef and Lena? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ BTW Mari it is not your fault T ignored me.  You did not do it on purpose. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Right, I’d never. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Is any one going to tell on me?  Like tell them what I say? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ No, babe.  You can speak freely. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ But what if they take my phone and look at it? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ I can do a thing and hide Avoiders Chat app. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Okay, thank you.  I just feel like I’m so mad at them.  But I can’t be mad at them you know? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Yes.  Feels dangerous to be mad at them, right? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ YES like if I am mad at them it will make every thing so much worse! _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ They are going to the conference, for parents of people with disabilities.  Hoping they will learn a lot there and treat you better. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Pearl, no offense but this is real life.  They are not going to magicly not hurt us bc some stranger told them not to. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Fran, you are breaking my heart. [broken heart emoji] _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ What?  I’m sorry but it’s true. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ I’m with Fran.  It is hard to believe that Moms might suddenly just...whatever because of a thing. _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ But maybe in combination with other recent events.... _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ What recent events? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ I don’t think it will do us any good to make random guesses that they’ll change though Pearl.  I am with Fran and Mari. Better to be prepared in case they aren’t. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ I did not forget about recent events…  Helloo…. (Levi do you know the recent events?) _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ I have zero idea about any recent events about your moms. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Was it when you talked to them?  Were they super mad? _

 

All around Francesca, everybody is giving Pearl this look like she is in trouble.  Everybody but Levi and Fran. So that must mean everybody else knows whatever she’s talking about.

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Come on!  I hate not knowing stuff! Please tell me! _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Buddy, please trust me.  I think this is better left where it is. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Oh nice...with me not knowing? [sad emoji] _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ This was my mistake.  I shouldn’t have mentioned anything.  I’m sorry. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Yes, you should have!  Because it’s not fair when I’m the only one not knowing stuff about Moms! What if I need to know it for when we go home? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ It will just worry you. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ I’m already worried.  Please don’t baby me guys you promised. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ This isn’t babying.  This is protecting you.  It’s different. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Doesn’t feel different…  So, that’s it? I can just never know? _

 

Fran tunes in as Dominique whispers to Mariana.  As Mariana types something to just Jesus probably, because he nods, looking not-happy but going along anyway.

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Some cops came to Stef and Lena’s house since you’ve been with us.  They heard that Stef and Lena were mean to you and they wanted to check that you were okay. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ But I wasn’t there…  Wait. Are they mad? _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ That’s what I meant when I said that maybe the conference plus the cops coming would make them treat you better. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ But Stef knows every cop.  They are all her friends. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ It still looks bad, buddy.  It embarrassed them. Sometimes when people are embarrassed, they try to do better because they don’t want to be embarrassed anymore.  It’s not for the right reasons, but maybe with all the stuff they learn, it will make a difference. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ So maybe? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Maybe. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ (I actually did know this Fran, I just didn’t know what specifics Pearl was talking about.  Sorry.) _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ [angry emoji] I don’t like all you guys knowing stuff without me.  Jesus and Mariana you didn’t even want to tell me. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ You’re right. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ But I’m 11!  I know that’s the youngest here but I know alot of stuff.  And alot of stuff happend to me. So I should get to know the same stuff you know. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ In this case, yes.  But not always, Francesca. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Because of the stupid safe person rules I know…  I’m still mad about it. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ It’s okay to be mad about it.  I know being left out is hard on you.  We don’t ever wanna make you feel like that, but know that sometimes we might.  We’re sorry. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ I’m just scared they’ll be mad I told.  I mean, they did that kind of stuff before and always after they were like ‘dont talk about it’ but this time they did not get to say that bc I came over before they could. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ I am 100% serious about keeping you two safe.  Moms know that. They know that their secret’s out, too, at least to us.  That means they have to make some changes. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ I just really wanna live with you guys here.  Pearl and Levi can you say you want a three-person apartment - so I can live there to?  Mariana you can live with Dom or Jesus who do you want to live with? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ I know you wanna live here.  I know you’re scared. I am, too.  I hate things being so up in the air.  But we’re safe right now. We’re gonna be safe for sure for another...what?  I suck at math now… _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ 2 weeks? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ So, let’s focus on that.  I don’t mean don’t be scared.  I don’t mean lock your feelings in.  But we have each other right now. That’s really important and special.  I wanna enjoy each other. Not be mad at each other. Because we need backup. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ It still feels like a dream that we are all together. _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ I know, right?  I got on a plane.  I still kind of can’t believe that. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ You did so good.  PS need to talk about the thing?  Seeing the person who reminded you of you? _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Not sure if I can without compromising privacy.  And we know I’ve already stuck my foot in my mouth enough today… _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ We all make mistakes. _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ We do, but are you okay from my comments earlier?  Touchy subject comments? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ I mean, it’s still a thing.  It’s probably always gonna be a thing. But I’m coping. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Pearl? _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Yes, Mari? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ (I TOLD YOU YOU ARE SO MRS. WEST!  HAHAHA!) _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Fran, you’re very cute.  But hush so Mari can talk. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ (Okay sorry.) _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ What do you do if you have something you don’t want? _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Can you explain anymore? _

 

Francesca can see Mariana take out an old crumpley envelope from her pocket.  She hands it to Levi. He hands it to Pearl.

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ If you don’t want this, I can throw it away for you. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ I kinda wanna know what it says.  But I don’t know if I should. It’s from someone who hurt me. _

 

Fran watches Mari and Pearl lock eyes and have basically a whole conversation just looking at each other.

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Not trying to interject, but as your truth team?  You’ve already had to read a lot of stuff from people who have hurt you in the last 24 hours. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Did Stef and Lena write you a letter??? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ No. _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ This isn’t your home address.  This...looks like...is it your college address? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Yes. _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ So this is from somebody who hurt you at college.  It’s postmarked March 2, 2020. Mariana, this is not my call.  This is yours, okay? If you want me to throw it away, I can. If you want to read it, you can.   _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ I need to know what it says, but I can’t yet.  I don’t want to hold onto it. So what should I do?  I don’t want to ask you guys to hold onto it. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Why not?  I can hold onto a letter for you, Mari.  It’s easy. And I won’t peek either. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Might not be a bad idea to pick one of us to hang onto it for you. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ I volunteer as tribute! _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ I don’t want to give this to you Fran it’s gross. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ But Pearl’s touching it right now. _

 

**_Pearl:_ **

_ Pearl has had lots of practice touching gross mail. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ I love when you talk in third person.  And Mariana, I can hang onto it for you.  No problem.   _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Seriously? _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Seriously.  At least until we leave. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Don’t say that word guys.  I wanna pretend these two weeks last forever. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Sounds like a great plan, buddy. _


	117. When The Sky Fell

To be honest, Mariana doesn’t know quite what to do when Feelings Time ends.  She kind of just hangs out at the table. Jesus takes Fran out to walk Dudley because she’s getting antsy.  Mariana expects the Dominique, Pearl and Levi to get up, too, but they don’t.

 

“Are you okay?” Pearl asks, when they’re alone.

 

“No…” Mariana admits.  She slides the envelope over for Dominique to investigate.

 

“What the hell do you have a letter from him for?” she asks after Pearl and Levi take turns explaining.  (Mariana can’t.)

 

She shrugs.  “I literally just found it in my mailbox - you know the one outside our bedroom?”

 

“Yeah?  Who put it there?” Dominique bristles, sliding the envelope back with a finger.

 

“Who knows?” Mariana shrugs.  “I hadn’t checked in forever. Could’ve been months?  Whenever Stef got whatever was left out of my car…”

 

“And she thought you’d want that…” Dominique remarks, bitter.

 

“She doesn’t know,” Mariana reminds them.  “I just… I don’t know what to do? It’s been a lot already.  Do you guys mind...if I lie down? I wanna keep talking, just...need to close my eyes...for reasons.”

 

“Mariana, you don’t have to explain…” Levi reassures her.

 

And she’s super touched when he covers her with their Dad blanket and turns off all the lights.  “You mind if we sit out here with you? Or would you rather we hang out in the kitchen?”

 

“Here’s fine,” Mariana sighs, relieved.  “Not being rude, I swear…”

 

“Mariana.  We know you’re not being rude,” Pearl chimes in.  “And I want to help you with your letter quandary.”

 

“Me, too,” Dominique adds.

 

“And me,” Levi chimes in.  “So, whatever you need… No rush.”

 

“Hey, Levi?” Mariana asks.  “No offense, as Fran says...but are you okay?”

 

“What do you mean?” he wonders.  (It sounds like he’s made himself comfortable right here in the living room.  Very near her. It’s comforting.)

 

“I mean...it’s been a lot.  And you haven’t really...I don’t know...had the chance to deal?” Mariana tries.

 

“I have,” Levi objects lightly.  “I talked to Pearl last night. And you and Dominique, too.  I’m not alone with this.”

 

“But are you sure this isn’t too much?” she asks, waving the letter weakly.

 

“It’s not,” Levi maintains.  “I wanna be here. Please stop questioning what I can take.  I’m not about to break…”

 

“Okay, my bad,” Mariana apologizes.  “So...Pearl?”

 

“Hmm?” Pearl asks.

 

“I don’t mean to...whatever you for this...when you didn’t ask.  I mean, you’re not the Fairy Godmother of trauma...but…” Mariana ventures, trying to put her thoughts in order.  “I guess I need your experience. What do you think?”

 

A laugh bubbles out of Pearl.  “I’ve had many nicknames, Mariana, but I think that one’s my favorite.  Seriously.”

 

“She wants your input, though,” Levi reminds.

 

“Yeah, come on Fairy Godmother…” Dominique chides.

 

“Guys, come on.  I don’t want this to be a pressure thing,” Mariana begs.  “Just if you wanna share, Pearl.”

 

“I can give input.  I don’t feel pressured.  Am I right in assuming this is from the guy who did the thing to you in college, though?” she asks.

 

“Mmm,” Mariana confirms, nodding.

 

“Okay.  Well...I’ve never been in this exact situation before, so I can’t offer a ton of advice.  But I can ask questions. Would that work?”

 

“Personal?” Mariana checks.

 

“More emotional,” Pearl clarifies.

 

“Okay,” Mariana nods.

 

“So...how do you feel about the letter?” Pearl asks.

 

“Look at you with the feeling questions,” Dominique affirms.

 

“I don’t even know what to say to that…” Mariana admits.

 

“So...when you first noticed the letter in your mailbox…and saw who it was from…  What did you do?” Levi asks.

 

“Froze,” Mariana says.

 

“Okay.  So, that sounds like trauma,” Pearl comments diplomatically.  “Not judging, just observing.”

 

“So?  I mean, what does that mean?  Of course I’d react like trauma.  He _ is _ that,” Mariana points out.

 

“And you’ve mentioned that you really feel like you need to know what it says,” Pearl recalls.

 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Mariana insists.

 

“Not that you asked...but I’m really good at mocking mail from people’s trauma…” Dominique offers.

 

“Are you okay, though?” Mariana answers back.  She definitely remembers Dominique reading email from Carla out loud for Pearl.  “I mean, I know you  _ can _ do it, but are you in the  _ place _ to?”

 

“I mean...I guess I’m not sure…” Dominique admits

 

“I’m fine to read it if you need me to.  Out loud, of course,” Pearl amends. “Levi and Dominique, you wouldn’t have to stay if you didn’t want to.”

 

“I want to,” Levi says immediately.

 

“I wanna stay,” Dominique insists.  “It’s what we do, right?”

 

“I don’t…” Mariana whispers.

 

“What?” Levi asks.

 

“I don’t want to stay for this.  I don’t wanna hear whatever garbage he has to say.  But it’s like...I can’t not… Like, I need somebody to say it’s okay,” Mariana explains.

 

“To what?” Pearl asks.

 

“To throw it out.  To not look,” Mariana swallows.

 

“I’m coming closer…  If you consent, I’d like to come closer,” Pearl restates.

 

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Mariana nods.

 

She can smell Pearl as she gets closer.  (Vanilla plus some kind of floral perfume.)  Sense her as she must crouch down somewhere near Mari’s head.  She opens one eye. “Yes?” she asks.

 

“You do not have to open his mail if you don’t want to.  You said you need permission. You got it. Trauma Fairy Godmother says your wish is granted.”  She pauses, studying Mariana, who now has both eyes open, watching. “Why do you still look afraid?” Pearl asks, gentle.

 

“Because,” Mariana scrunches her eyes closed and turns away from Pearl.  “I know it’s dumb and whatever but...I feel like...he’s gonna know. And be pissed.”

 

“Mariana,” Dominique tries, walking closer, too, but stopping a distance away.  “That letter is postmarked from over a year ago.”

 

Just like that, Mariana’s sitting up.  Fire in her eyes, glaring. “What the hell does that mean?”

 

“It means…” Levi pauses intentionally.  “That if he was gonna be mad about you not opening his mail?  The time’s long gone…”

 

“I know this is excruciating,” Dominique tries again, her hands placating.  “I know. But trust us...as your friends...who’ve survived versions of what you have.  He’s not gonna know if you throw it out.”

 

“I’m scared,” Mariana admits.

 

“We’re right here.  We’re not leaving you,” Levi promises.  “You can take all the time you need.”

 

\--

 

“So, buddy?” Fran asks, walking alongside Jesus.  They’re going sloth-speed even though that means Dudley has to walk very slow, too.

 

“What’s up?” Jesus asks back.  No ‘buddy.’ He’s looking around a lot.  Probably for the weirdo peon from this morning.

 

“I know it’s not okay for you to punch people because you’re an adult and basically famous even though it’s without consent…” Fran begins in one long breath.

 

“What’s your point?” he asks.

 

Fran scowls.  “You don’t have to be mean, okay?  I’m not the weirdo peon. I’m your sister.  I’m your buddy. Right?”

 

“Right.  Sorry. I know.  What were you saying?” Jesus asks.

 

“I know  _ you _ can’t punch her if we see her, but can  _ I _ ?” Fran asks seriously.

 

“No,” Jesus shakes his head, but he does smile just a little bit.

 

“What if it was really quick and then you picked me up and we ran away super fast?” Fran tries.

 

“Buddy, don’t worry about me.  Okay? Please?” Jesus asks.

 

“Okay, but don’t we?  Like, aren’t we supposed to?  Like as family?” Francesca asks seriously.

 

“I guess so, yeah.  But you’ve got enough on your plate, don’t you?  How are you doing?”

 

“No offense,” Fran huffs, out of air.  “But I can’t really walk and talk at the same time.”

 

“Right.  Well, we can sit out here for a bit.  Want to?” Jesus asks.

 

“Can I get a Mountain Dew from inside?  The vending machine?” Fran asks.

 

“Sure.  Get a snack.  I’ll get something, too,” Jesus agrees.

 

“Yes!” Fran cheers, and she goes right in and gets a can of Mountain Dew with Jesus’s dollar and some Cheez-Its for both of them.  And a water for Jesus when he asks.

 

Then, they’re out back at the picnic table with little bush things all around it for privacy. 

 

“No weirdos will see us here, right?” Fran asks, slurping the first drink of her soda.  It tastes like life and energy and sunshine. Basically the best flavor. And Cheez-Its go good with it.

 

“You’re really worried about that, huh?” Jesus asks.

 

“Well, yeah,” Fran shrugs.  “I don’t like strangers knowing things about our family.”

 

“What do you mean by that, buddy?” Jesus wonders, taking a drink of water, while Dudley rests his head in Jesus’s lap.

 

“Like...stuff without us knowing?  You know? Them knowing and us not knowing they know.  Or them knowing us and us not knowing them. You know?” Fran asks.

 

“Kinda.  Yeah,” Jesus nods.  “I don’t like that either.  But, hey, I was gonna ask. Are you feeling…like...I guess I don’t know how to really check in about this specific thing but...you know I can see you, right?  That you matter to me? That I’m not ignoring you?”

 

“Mostly,” Francesca nods, serious, looking out at the trees.

 

“You mostly know that?  When don’t you? Like...can I ask when it’s not obvious to you that I see you?” Jesus asks.

 

“Like, when do I feel invisible?” Fran checks.

 

“Yeah,” Jesus nods.

 

“Mostly all the time with Moms.  And when they do notice me, it’s like, the worst timing ever in life…”

 

“But here.  Without Moms.  Do you feel invisible?” Jesus tries again.

 

Fran shrugs.  “I mean...I don’t really wanna say…  What if it makes you really sad?”

 

“I’m a grown-up, Fran,” Jesus says, like that solves everything.

 

“Yeah, but grown-ups still have feelings,” Fran points out.  “And trauma. That maybe doesn’t like feeling like you accidentally did something wrong…”

 

“That is true,” Jesus nods.  “But I’m okay right now. You can talk to me.”

 

“Well, like...when you guys all kinda gang up on me with being the adults?  I don’t like that. I don’t feel like I matter then,” Fran explains, reaching in for a Cheez-It.

 

“What do you mean,  _ gang up on you with being the adults _ ?” he asks.

 

“I mean, like, when you and Mariana and everybody basically knew that cops found out Moms hurt me and came over?  You didn’t wanna tell me that and that hurt my feelings. Because all you guys already knew about it and I didn’t.  And Avoiders are supposed to do everything together.”

 

“I see,” Jesus says, but Francesca doesn’t know if he does, really.  He rests his chin in his hand. “You wanna know why I didn’t want you to know about that?”

 

“Because you think eleven is too young,” Fran sighs.  That’s literally everybody’s answer.

 

“No...because I remember what it felt like...to have cops come to the house.  It felt scary. And I didn’t want you to have to deal with any of that, when you’re already dealing with so much.”

 

“When you were…  Wait, can I ask a trauma thing?” Fran wonders.

 

“Sure.  Thanks for asking,” Jesus nods.

 

“Was it when you were with the bad guy and the cops came to save you?” Francesca asks.

 

“Who told you cops came to save me?” Jesus asks, careful.

 

Oops.  Fran shrugs, big and exaggerated, because she’s not about to say anymore if this part is gonna be wrong already.

 

“Buddy, I’m not mad.  You’re not in trouble.  I’m just curious. Who told you that?” Jesus wonders.

 

“Stef…” Fran whispers.  “I asked one time how you came back home and she said some cops came and rescued you and then she came and brought you back.”

 

Jesus presses his lips together.  “Listen, I can understand why she didn’t tell you the entire truth on that...but that is not what happened.  Cops didn’t save me, Francesca. I did.”

 

“What?  Stef said she came and got you.  You even said that,” Francesca points out.

 

“That part is right,” Jesus nods.  “She did come and get me. But remember how I told you I know what it’s like to be arrested?  That’s because, like I told you a couple days ago, I got myself arrested so cops would take me to the police station.  Then I called Stef. Then she came and got me.”

 

“Oh,” Fran says.  “Sorry. I know you really told me that, but Stef told me the other story a really long time ago.  So...I think my brain actually thinks that one’s real.”

 

“When did you ask this?” Jesus wonders.

 

“I was four or five or something?” Fran guesses.  They were tucking me in and I just asked Stef and she said that thing about the cops.  Wait. So, what cops were you talking about then?” 

 

“When Mariana and I were really young.  When we were still living with our birth mom.  Cops used to come then. And it was scary.”

 

“Oh,” Fran says again.  “You know, it helps when people explain.  But I get really scared to ask stuff. Because Moms always act like I’m the dumbest in the universe if I ask.”

 

“Yeah, I get that,” Jesus nods.

 

“You wanna know when I felt my very most invisible ever in life?” Fran confides.

 

“Yes.  I really do.  Tell me,” Jesus says.

 

“It was after the whole thing of Moms finding out about Timothy.  And the time when I snuck out of the house and was waiting for you to come and get me.  It was really dark out and plus everything was wrong and I was so scared,” Francesca shares, leaning into Jesus.

 

“That makes sense you felt invisible.  You were trying to cope with a lot. Sometimes when we cope with a lot our mind tries to protect us from it.  We can kinda separate ourselves a little bit?”

 

“The dis-sociating thing?  Dominique told me about that,” Fran remembers.

 

“Yeah,” Jesus nods.  “That can make us feel like things around us aren’t very real, or maybe like we aren’t very real…”

 

“You know the thing you did that made me feel the saddest and most invisible?” Fran asks.  

 

“What?” Jesus asks, like he really wants to know.

 

“It’s when you caught me almost doing some bad coping one time in your apartment and you were just like, “ _ No, there’s no reason to do that here _ ,” but there really was.  And I thought you would know that.  Because of how sometimes it feels like there  _ are _ reasons, but they’re all stuck inside you.”

 

“That’s really true.  And I’m very sorry I said that to you.  I know that there are always reasons behind what you do.  Valid reasons,” Jesus says, opening his arms.  

 

Francesca leans into him even more.  It feels good in his hugs. As usual.  “Thanks for letting me tell you my feelings and not getting mad…” Fran whispers.

 

“Buddy, I want you to tell me your feelings.  Whenever you feel safe to. However you feel safe to.  Okay?”

 

“Okay.  If you’re really sure,” Fran says.

 

“Oh, I am.  I’m super sure,” Jesus nods, kissing her on the head.

 

(Because she’s told him a billion times she never minds when he does that.)

 

\--

 

It’s taken the actual longest minutes of Mariana’s life to finally decide to get rid of Nick’s letter once and for all.  To not read it. No matter what it says, it’s not going to change Mariana’s reality.

 

“Pearl, are you still fine with touching toxic stuff?” Mariana asks.  “Need gloves?”

 

“Nope,” Pearl shakes her head.  “I’m fine without.”

 

Mariana hesitates and finally holds her hand out, letter held gingerly between her fingers.

 

“You want it shredded into tiny pieces?” Pearl asks.

 

Mariana shakes her head.

 

“In one of these garbages?” she gestures around Jesus’s apartment.  

 

Mariana shakes her head again, as Dominique and Levi move next to her on either side.

 

“There’s a trash chute right across the hall,” Dominique offers.

 

“Oh.  Is that where you want it?” Pearl asks.

 

Mariana gulps and nods.

 

“It’s okay,” Levi whispers.  “It’s gonna be okay.”

 

Pearl doesn’t hesitate.  Just goes out and drops the letter down, as if it’s a mail slot, not for refuse.

 

“It’s gone,” Dominique reassures.  

 

But it never is.  Not really. Mariana can still feel him.

 

She can’t stop shaking.


	118. Away From The Sun

Whatever else Jesus had planned on doing when he and Fran got back to his place flies out of Jesus’s head the second he sees Mariana.  She’s pale. Shaking.

 

Pearl offers to take Francesca next door to Dominique’s and Dominique says she and Levi can head to Avoidance.  That they’ll all meet up later.

 

When they’re finally one on one, Jesus just sits, and looks at Mariana, concerned.  He knows peppering her won’t do any good. Until he remembers -  _ it’s you who doesn’t like being peppered, dude.  Mariana digs questions. _

 

“Is it Moms?”  he asks. “Are they hassling you?”

 

She shakes her head.

 

“Is it...the website thing?” Jesus asks, swallowing.

 

“That doesn’t help...but no…  Do you remember...the thing I said recently?  About… It was about us leaving Ana? Why we left?”

 

“Yes,” Jesus nods.  How could he forget her bringing that up after all this time.  “Is it that?”

 

Mariana nods.  “The college one.  Um… When we were home...I found a thing in our mailbox.  From…”

 

“From... _ him _ ?” Jesus asks, incredulous.  “Are you okay? Of course you’re not okay…  Why is he contacting you?”

 

“Slow down,” she says, holding a hand out.  “I can’t answer everything.”

 

“Okay, sorry.  It was from him?” Jesus backs up.

 

Mariana nods.

 

“And you’re not okay?” Jesus checks.

 

She shakes her head.

 

“Do you know why he’s contacting you now?” Jesus wonders.

 

“He’s not.”

 

“But I thought…” Jesus shakes his head, confused.

 

“It was from...last year.  I remember, I had it in the car with me when…” Mariana shivers.

 

Jesus is so confused.  “Wait so… Why do you think there was an old as hell letter in your mailbox?”

 

“I don’t know.  Maybe when Mom got the stuff from it?  She just stuck it there?” Mariana guesses.

 

“So...did you open it, or…” Jesus wonders.

 

Mariana shakes her head, swallowing.  “No. I wanted to. Like, so bad. But I just couldn’t...and I couldn’t hang onto it...you know?”

 

“You had Pearl and Levi and Dominique here with you, right?  You weren’t by yourself with this?” Jesus checks.

 

“I found it the night you, Pearl and I went to talk to them...and we went up to get clothes or whatever…”

 

“Dude.  I’m sorry I didn’t pick up on that,” Jesus apologizes.

 

“With what?  Our twin telepathy doesn’t really work there…” Mariana points out.

 

“True.  Anyway, I’m thinking about you.  And I’m kinda worried. Do you need anything?  I know I was kinda selfish freaking out and making the lady’s one comment about the blog about me.  Can’t imagine if there was a whole thing about it…”

 

Mariana shrugs.  “You talk too much.”

 

It takes him a second to get past the instinctive wince her words cause to really consider them.  But he just can’t get there. “What?”

 

“I mean, you’re saying too much?” Mariana tries again.  “Sorry.”

 

“It’s fine.  Do you need anything?” Jesus wonders.

 

“Anything, like what?” she asks.

 

“Like, I don’t know.  Need to talk about anything?” he asks.

 

“You really didn’t know about the thing Moms made?”

 

“No idea,” Jesus promises.

 

“Moms were like...inside,” Mariana ventures, distressed.

 

“Wait.  What? Inside where?” Jesus asks.

 

“Our room,” Mariana nods.  “When we were gone.”

 

“Oh shit,” Jesus bows his head.  He feels a chill across the back of his neck.  “I know what that’s like. I’m really sorry.”

 

“Sucks,” Mariana sighs.  “And I’m still not over the letter thing.  And I never wanna go to therapy again… Seriously, he just makes me do dangerous as hell crap.”

 

“What do you mean?” Jesus asks, concerned again.  

 

“Stairs, no railing,” Mariana mutters.

 

“Makes you climb stairs without a railing?” Jesus asks.  “Why?”

 

“Moms,” Mariana crosses her arms.

 

“You guys got that shower chair, right?” Jesus checks and Mariana’s confused.

 

“Yeah...but that doesn’t matter getting into the house…” she points out, worried.  Like Jesus will say one accommodation is the limit.

 

“No, I know.  It just got me thinking.  Stef and Lena are pretty much never gonna install a railing for you guys, right?  I’m not being an ass, I’m just saying.”

 

“No.  I mean, it’s been over a year...and Fran’s needed one for years before that…” Mariana says.

 

“Right, so…  What about if...say...Levi and I go pick up a railing...and install it at the house?”

 

“Moms are gonna hate it,” Mariana warns.  

 

“You know, I really don’t give a damn about Moms right now.  I give a damn that you and Fran are safe at least coming and going from that house,” Jesus remarks.

 

“How are you gonna afford this?” Mariana wonders.

 

“It’s not that expensive,” Jesus insists.

 

“No, but when you can only have however-much money, it is,” Mariana pushes.  “How much? Maybe I can do it.”

 

“No.  You’re not paying for your own accommodation that they should have done a billion years ago.  Fran’s not chipping in either,” Jesus decides.

 

“Fine.  God,” Mariana laughs.

 

“It’s not funny,” Jesus says.  

 

“It kinda is…  The idea that Fran would willingly part with money?” Mariana points out.

 

“Well...that is funny,” Jesus admits.  “But God...I should have done this when I had the idea to put the rail in at Christmas for her years ago…”

 

“Jesus, it’s not your job…” Mariana points out.

 

“Come on.  You know you and I parent her a hell of a lot more than they do.” Jesus remarks, bitter.  

 

“Check first,” Mariana cautions, and Jesus does a double take.  

 

“Check what?” he asks.

 

“That Moms aren’t home.  I’m not sure how Levi will do if they are,” Mariana says.

 

“Oh, good point.” Jesus nods, distracted.  He’s busy Googling how much it costs to install a railing on front steps.

 

“You don’t really like therapy,” he says.  It’s not even a question.

 

“No.”

 

“So, why don’t you stop?  Just don’t go back?” Jesus asks.

 

Mariana sighs.  “I’ve tried. I never hear the end of it.  Not even worth the trouble…”

 

“But is it worth the stress it’s putting on you?  I just don’t want you to go tonight.”

 

“Jesus?” Mariana asks.

 

“What?” he glances up, having found all the info he needs and is now texting Levi to see if he’s in.

 

“I’m not going anyway.  It’s the weekend.” Mariana smiles a little.

 

“Oh.  Right,” he smiles, too.  “Awesome.”

 

\--

 

Levi glances down at his phone when it pings with a text.  “Sorry,” he says to Dominique. He sighs.  

 

“What?”  she asks.

 

“Jesus is asking if I wanna help him put a railing on their moms’ front steps…” Levi confides, looking stressed.

 

“And do you?” Dominique wonders.

 

“I mean, of course I wanna help Mariana and Fran.  I’d do literally anything for them,” Levi insists.

 

“But…” Dominique says, knowingly.

 

“But…  I am not looking forward to pissing off their parents, Dominique.  Angry mothers are so not my thing…”

 

“What do you need?” Dominique asks.

 

“He says he’s gonna make sure they’re not home if I wanna go...but I’m still not sure.  I wouldn’t want Mariana or Fran to feel like they had to be there especially.”

 

“But maybe you could use the moral support?” Dominique guesses.  “Could you ask Pearl?”

 

“I mean...I guess?  I just...I need to rely on her a lot,” Levi points out.

 

“And?  Y’all are family, right?  That’s what family does?” Dominique asks.

 

“And what if I can’t come through for  _ this  _ family?” Levi challenges softly.  “What good am I then?”

 

“Hey.  Something I’ve had to learn...and learn...and learn...is that my worth doesn’t lie in what I do.  Okay? It’s in who I am. The kind of person, Levi.”

 

“Like, the kind of person who bails on friends or not?” Levi says, still clearly upset.

 

“No one’s saying you have to do this,” Dominique reminds him.

 

“Come on.  Mariana told me the last railing he was gonna install Jesus ended up relying solely on the backup because he couldn’t take the power tool noises.  Sorry, that was rude…” Levi apologizes.

 

“What are you worried about?” Dominique asks.

 

“If that happens again?  I know enough to get around power tools.  Directions for something like this? They’re easy for me to follow.  I could get it done, no problem....”

 

“But there’s something about this that’s hanging you up,” Dominique nods.

 

“What if they come back before we’re done?  Catch us at it?” Levi asks, quiet. “I mean, I was literally hanging out on  _ her _ front steps when I got all muddy…”

 

“Levi...you don’t have to do this...if it’s too triggering,” Dominique tells him.  And it’s the permission he’s needed, but he still can’t move on.

 

“Everything’s triggering, Dominique.  Being here right now is triggering,” Levi admits.

 

“What?” she asks, surprised.  “Well, why are we here, then? Let’s get the hell out of here,” Dominique stands, but Levi doesn’t.

 

“We’re here because y’all love Avoidance.  Because it means something positive for you.  But for me...I spent most of a day here yesterday...and it was pretty terrible.”

 

“The website?” Dominique asks.

 

“And remembering my dad…” Levi admits.  “It’s like...I think I’m feeling stuff extra, because of that.  Like I’m extra vulnerable,” he wipes his nose. “‘Cause I keep thinking of him dying.  And that makes me think of him not knowing. And then I just feel...young...and it’s all so confusing.”

 

“Sounds confusing,” Dominique sympathizes.  “I’m sorry if this was a bad call. For places to hang.  I didn’t realize.”

 

“No, I know,” Levi shakes his head, absolving her.

 

“You don’t have to prioritize my comfort over yours,” Dominique tells him.

 

“But literally no one’s been prioritizing you,” Levi pushes back, gentle.  “And you do deserve to be thought of. And prioritized.”

 

“Well, thank you,” Dominique says, shy.  “What do you need?” she tries again.

 

“Distraction.  Um...what’s your favorite kind of pie from Gimmie Pies?” Levi asks.

 

“Oh, no way!  Mariana took you to Gimmie Pies?  I’m so jealous! And lemon, of course.”

 

“Of course,” Levi manages a smile.

 

\--

 

“You know how you guys always say it’s okay if I talk about Timothy to you?” Fran asks, petting Roberta to stop her heart from beating super fast.

 

“I do.  What’s up?  Need to talk about him?” Pearl asks.  She’s just sitting on the couch with Cleo.  Roberta keeps staring at the dog like she hates her, but Cleo just wags her tail.

 

“Kinda.  I...well...I kinda have a secret…and I know I’m not really supposed to have those?  Because they’re not the safest? So, I thought, you know, keep up my good coping somehow?” Fran suggests.

 

“That sounds great,” Pearl nods.  “Do you wanna come sit near me?”

 

“I’m fine,” Fran says, because it’s always better to keep lots of space if she’s going to talk about Timothy.  Just in case the rules change and Pearl turns into one of those people who gets mad when Fran shares.

 

“Okay,” Pearl answers, not even one bit offended.

 

“Okay so…  My friend, Shane?  I told him this whole thing with Timothy, kind of?  Well, just the part about finding out that I’m part Asian, because he is, too?”

 

“Was he happy for you?” Pearl asks.

 

“Yeah, he said it’s cool,” Fran nods.  “But I might’ve accidentally let it slip that Timothy is…”  Her face gets warm. “I don’t know if I was supposed to tell people at school.  I feel like that was a big mistake.”

 

“Is Shane trustworthy?  Has he told anyone else what you told him?” Pearl asks.

 

“Not yet…” Fran hedges.

 

“Okay, well that’s good,” Pearl nods.  “But you still look worried. Is there more?”

 

“Just...Shane texted me the other day?  You know, when I was home on my mental break day?”

 

“Yes.  What did Shane have to say?” Pearl asks.

 

“He was down at the office because he gets in trouble sometimes.  But he’s not a bad kid, promise. He just tries to be too funny when we’re supposed to be serious.” Fran explains.

 

“I believe you.  So he was waiting to talk to Lena, I gather?” Pearl guesses.

 

“Yeah, only he heard her yelling at Timothy about seeing me.  He like, asked if she was gonna fire him and stuff. She didn’t.  But she was really mad that he saw me at all…and now Shane knows all that,” Fran admits, petting Roberta.

 

“How do you feel about it?” Pearl wonders, soft.

 

“Embarrassed.  Because Moms don’t like it when other people know our family stuff,” Fran explains.

 

“Are you embarrassed for them?  Or for you?” Pearl asks, curious.

 

“Them, I guess.  People are gonna say bad stuff about them again and then they’ll probably be all crabby,” Fran hesitates.

 

“Right, but you mentioned Shane’s trustworthy, right?  Did you ask him to keep what he heard to himself?”

 

“Yeah,” Fran says.

 

“And has he?” Pearl wonders.

 

“So far, yeah.  But what if everybody finds out my dad’s a teacher?” she worries.

 

“Mine was a firefighter,” Pearl shares.

 

“Whoa, really?” Fran asks.

 

“Yes,” Pearl nods, happy.  “So, if people find out, you can know it’s just a really normal part of life.  Like, Lena’s principal and Stef’s a cop. Timothy’s a teacher. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.  That’s awesome.”

 

“I guess, because they kept it that huge secret forever...I just...don’t know what parts are supposed to be secret and what parts aren’t.” Fran admits.

 

“That makes a lot of sense,” Pearl nods.  “It was hard for me, too, finding out my mom lied to me about my dad.  For a long time, it was really hard for me to talk about him, because it used to always get me in trouble as a kid.”

 

“That’s what it’s like for me!” Fran exclaims.  

 

“But what helped was Levi.  He talks really freely about our dad.  He’s proud of him. Dad was never a secret to Levi, so he doesn’t have any of that shame or other complicated feelings around him that I do.  So it helps to be around Levi and kind of learn how to talk about our dad from him.”

 

“Do you think he could teach me?” Fran asks.

 

“I think so.  Just notice how he talks about our dad, when he talks about him.  He shares fun memories, and facts.”

 

Fran’s face falls.  “But that’s not even going to matter for me.  When I go back home with Stef and Lena? I’m not gonna be able to do any of that.”

 

“Maybe not,” Pearl agrees.  “But you can still take Levi’s example with you as you move forward in life.  So when you get to live on your own someday, you can talk about your dad whenever you want, and you don’t have to be afraid of what Stef or Lena will think.”

 

“I think...when I grow up...I’d wanna meet him…” Fran confesses.  “Even though he was mean to me. Is that weird?”

 

“I don’t think so,” Pearl says.  “Sounds pretty typical to me.”

 

“Okay.  Good,” Fran responds.  “Can you not share what I shared with you?  Like, can it just be between us?”

 

“It can be, yes.  You can share what we talked about if you’d like to, but I won’t.  I promise,” Pearl says.

 

“Thank you,” Fran tells her, feeling shy.  “I don’t get to talk about Timothy very much.  But I always can with you, right?”

 

“That’s right.  You always can with me,” Pearl smiles.


	119. Love Takes Time

It’s turning out to be the best day because when Francesca talked about getting to have ice cream for lunch when they were at the cabin?  The other Avoiders thought that ice cream for dinner was a great idea! So they just got to spend a billion years at this one fancy gourmet ice cream place with Hawaiian flavors - but Fran just gets peanut butter fudge.

 

Pearl gets raspberry fudge Fran jokes that they could make a sandwich with theirs.  Pearl laughs. Fran loves making Pearl laugh because hers is the loudest and it makes everybody laugh.  Mariana gets a flavor called Vegan Chocolate. Dominique gets Lemon Cream (because she always picks lemon) and Levi gets Kona Coffee Brownie.  Jesus takes the longest deciding on what flavor he wants. He finally picks Cinnamon Swirl.

 

They eat outside in the nice warm day, instead of inside in the cold air conditioning.  It’s around the back, where there’s no windows and no cars. They just talk about anything they want to.  

 

“Anybody wanna try this?” Levi offers his cone, and Mariana leans over and licks it.

 

“Of course, Mariana has to try it.  It has coffee in it,” Jesus says, smiling.

 

“You’re damn right,” Mariana smiles.  “Ugh, that’s so good. I’m jealous.”

 

“Can I try it?” Fran asks, just to see if Levi will say yes.

 

“Here,” Levi hands the cone across the table.

 

“Levi, don’t give that to her, it has caffeine in it,” Pearl scolds but she’s laughing.

 

“So does chocolate,” Fran shrugs taking a big lick.  (It tastes like the best thing she ever ate. “Mmmm, Levi, I need this flavor.”

 

“Can I have yours?” Levi asks.

 

Francesca offers her cone to Levi the fastest ever. She would much rather have his flavor.

 

“Why did you get coffee-flavored anything?” Mariana checks.  “I thought you thought coffee was too bitter?”

 

“Tried to branch out,” Levi says, making a face about his own ice cream and taking a giant lick of Fran’s.  “Okay, I could definitely get behind this. You good if we trade, Fran?”

 

“I don’t know if I’m good if you trade....” Jesus warns.  “Buddy, there’s a lot of caffeine in that.”

 

“I know,” Fran smiles, her eyes wide.  “That’s what makes it taste delicious.”

 

“Oh my God…” Dominique laughs.  “We gotta be careful with this one…”

 

“Lick the bottom, Fran,” Pearl coaches, “It’s melting on you.”

 

“Oh, no!” Fran giggles.  And she tries to catch all the drips of coffee and brownies before they escape.

 

“Now I guess you and I can make a sandwich?” Levi asks, looking at Pearl.

 

“PB & J?” Pearl asks.  “Classic.”

 

“Dominique, don’t you wanna try anyone’s?” Fran asks, hoping she doesn’t ask to try the coffee-brownie flavor.

 

“Nah, I’m not too big on sharing food.” Dominique shakes her head and takes a bite of her lemon cream.

 

“Me neither,” Pearl nods, and they tap their bowls together.

 

Francesca feels like her brain is awaker than ever before.  Like she’s thinking really fast. It’s great. “This is the best idea,” she insists.

 

It doesn’t take too long before it starts to get a little bit dark, though and then Jesus and Dominique are both saying they should go.  Fran feels like she’s almost ready to explode. That’s how full she is.

 

“Levi, I ate all that ice cream.  Thank you,” Fran tells him.

 

“I ate all yours, too.  Thanks for swapping.”

 

“No problem.  You can give me your coffee things anytime,” Fran grins.

 

It’s a quiet drive back with Levi and Jesus.  (Dominique is driving back with Pearl and Mariana in her car.)  

 

“What if I blew up like that giant blueberry girl on  _ Charlie and the Chocolate Factory _ ?  Then you’d have to roll me home,” Francesca laughs.  “That’s how full I feel, by the way.”

 

“Well, we’re just gonna take it easy when we get upstairs, alright?”  Jesus says. They’re waiting by the elevator, because no Avoiders get left behind.  

 

When Dominique’s car gets there, Jesus says that Fran and Mariana can ride up first and Levi goes with them.  Dominique, Pearl and Jesus will follow them.

 

“That vegantarian ice cream didn’t seem like it was that good,” Francesca observes.  “Was it?”

 

“Would’ve been better with coffee in it,” Mariana says.

 

They’re still talking, and waiting right outside of Jesus’s door when all of a sudden, it opens.

 

Francesca feels like she really might throw up.  She feels Levi take her hand and step back.

 

Moms.

 

\--

 

“Well, there you are!  It’s about time!” Stef says, like they had arranged to meet.

 

Mariana can’t feel her whole face.  Both hands are numb. Her heart’s about to pound out of her chest.  They’re acting like it wasn’t just two days ago when they tried to grab her from behind.

 

She knows by looking that Levi’s grabbed her hand.  That he’s backed up, with both her and Francesca.

 

“Mariana, who’s your friend?” Lena asks, no doubt thinking this is a great opportunity to get her to talk, when the truth is there is no way in hell she can say anything right now.

 

Pizza fumes waft out of Jesus’s apartment, cloying and disgusting.

 

“We’ve been waiting.  We brought dinner,” Stef says.  “Come on in and sit down,” she says, like it’s her house.

 

“No,” Mariana grinds out.  It sounds harsh. Too loud.  But she doesn’t care.

 

The minutes are crawling by but finally she can make out the chiming of the elevator doors over her racing heart.

 

“What do you mean, no?” Stef says, with a tight smile.

 

\--

 

Levi can’t move, can’t speak, can’t do anything.  All he can do is continue to back up, holding onto Mariana and Francesca’s hands, praying neither one loses her balance.

 

Because all he can think of is putting space between them and their moms.

 

Distantly, Levi can make out the sound of the elevator landing.  Jesus saying “shit” and the sound of running feet behind them. In seconds, Pearl and Jesus are in front of them.

 

Dominique, still behind, slips her house key around Fran’s wrist.  “Go to my place, babe. Now. And lock the door behind you. I’ll text when it’s safe to let us in.”

 

But Francesca’s frozen.

 

“Levi, please?” Dominique urges.  She’s come around in front of them now.  There’s a barrier three Avoiders thick between them and Stef and Lena.

 

“Francesca.  You need me to pick you up?” he asks.

 

\--

 

Fran can’t even move one bit.  It’s like all the ice cream inside her melted super fast and turned to pee because that’s all she can think about right now.  How bad she has to pee. And how she has to use all her control and muscles and everything to just hold it in. If she has to walk to Dominique’s door?  Unlock it? Go the million steps to her bathroom? It’s gonna be way too late…

 

She nods, though, because being carried does sound faster than trying to get Righty to cooperate right now.

 

Levi scoops Fran up, not even minding that he has to hold her different, because her leg won’t bend.

 

They’re to Dominique’s door.  Fran can hear loud voices behind them.  She’s almost gonna pee. Levi gets the key off her wrist and unlocks the door.  

 

He lets them all in.  And locks it behind them.

 

And then it’s too late.  And Francesca feels like the biggest baby.  And the most embarrassed.

 

She bursts into tears.

 

\--

 

“Hey, hey, hey…  Listen,” Levi tries to soothe Fran.  (He tries to not sound shocked, even though he had not been expecting what just happened.)  “Listen to me…” he urges softly. But she just keeps sobbing onto his shoulder.

 

He walks her in farther and sits down in a kitchen chair with her.  “I know this is super embarrassing, okay? I’m not mad. We won’t tell your moms, okay?” Levi says, checking with Mariana who shakes her head no in agreement.  “We’ll just clean it up.”

 

“But my clothes are there!” Francesca wails.  “At Jesus’s!”

 

“I know,” Levi says.  “I know everything feels awful right now.  That makes a ton of sense. It’s okay to feel sad, or trauma, or whatever about this.”

 

“I’m so gross and we don’t even have...a shower chair...and I don’t even have...clothes!” Francesca sobs.

 

\--

 

Mariana stops looking for towels and goes into Dominique’s room to grab the bag she packed at Moms’ a couple days ago.  She’s so glad she thought to grab extra under-things and PJs for Fran. Since she only had so many here.

 

She fishes out comfy pants and a tee shirt and some underwear and then walks back out to Fran, holding out a hand to her.

 

Still crying she takes it, and Mariana walks her into the bathroom and shows her the pajamas.

 

Fran hugs her hard around the middle.  Mariana stumbles back against the sink.

 

“I feel so gross…” Fran whispers.  “And bad… I don’t want you to watch...but will you stay?  I feel really mad at myself right now…” Fran confesses.

 

Mariana nods and then walks her over to the shower where she pulls back the curtain and shows her the patio chair Dominique moved in there.

 

“Oh.” Fran sniffs.  “Can I just shower and not wash my hair?”

 

Mariana nods.  “I’ll stay. I won’t watch.  But I’ll stay.”

 

“Are you mad?” Fran asks as she peels off her wet clothes.  

 

Mariana’s focused on her phone.  “No.”

 

“What about Levi?  All his clothes are next door too and he’s probably embarrassed.  What if the other Avoiders see?”

 

Mariana texts:

 

_ Fran is worried you are embarrassed bc you can’t change clothes yet.  And what you’ll feel if other A’s see? _

 

“Hey Fran?” Levi calls in, after a minute, through the closed door.  “When I was about your age? This happened to me, too.”

 

“Did you pee on somebody?” Fran asks darkly, clearly expecting the answer to be no.

 

“Well...I’d wet the bed...and my dad came and picked me up.  So, indirectly, yeah.”

 

“So, he was pretty mad at you,” Fran decides.

 

“No.  He wasn’t.  Even when I apologized for being such a baby.  He said the only kind of baby I was was  _ his _ baby...and that wasn’t anything to be ashamed of.”

 

“But I’m not your baby, Levi,” Fran points out, sounding so much older than eleven.

 

“Right, but it’s still nothing to be ashamed of.  I’m not mad. And in this family - The Avoiders family?  We don’t make fun of each other for trauma stuff.”

 

“Having an accident isn’t trauma stuff,” Fran insists.

 

“When you do it out of fear, it is,” Levi maintains.  “So, don’t worry about me. I’ll get changed ASAP. If you’d rather not talk about this, I totally get it.  And we don’t have to. But I’m open to it if you do. And I get it.”

 

“I’m really sorry, Levi,” Fran sniffs.

 

“It’s not as bad as all this,” Levi says.  “That’s what my dad told me. Once you’re all dried off, you’ll feel better.  And I know it was an accident. I get that those happen. That it wasn’t on purpose.”

 

“I’m taking a shower.  But can you stay out there?  Like, right there? Just so in case we need to talk to you?” Fran asks.

 

“Whatever you need.  I’ve got your back.” Levi says.

 

Mariana slides down the inside of the bathroom door, still focused on her phone screen as Fran climbs in the shower.  She can feel Levi leaning against the door from the outside.

 

She still can’t feel her body right.  Hears the water go on, and Francesca crying quietly as she showers.

 

Mariana does a quick YouTube search and finds  _ Try Everything  _ from  _ Zootopia _ and hits play.  That song always makes Francesca feel better.

 

\--

 

“ _ I messed up tonight _

_ I lost another fight _

_ I still mess up but I'll just start again _

_ I keep falling down _

_ I keep on hitting the ground _

_ I always get up now to see what's next. _ ”

 

Levi’s singing softly on the other side of the bathroom door when he hears a sound that makes him jump.  He glances up from his phone screen and sees Roberta there, her tail swaying slightly, back and forth.

 

“Hey, you.  I forgot you even lived here,” he tells Roberta, trying to will himself into calming down some.

 

Roberta blinks her yellow eyes.  Her tail’s stopped swaying.

 

“Sorry...I...I mean...I’m not super into singing right now…” he manages.  “Do you still like me?”

 

He asks it because no one else is around to hear.  Because Roberta’s not about to judge him for his insecurity.

 

She doesn’t come any closer, but Levi can hear it, as Roberta purrs just a little.


	120. Freight Train

The minute Jesus is off the elevator, he hears it: Moms’ voices.  (Somehow they’re here. Not just here but  _ up here _ , on the third floor.)  He books it down the hall, Dudley at his side.  Pearl keeps up with him, and Dominique brings up the rear.

 

Jesus takes it all in in slow motion: Levi slowly backing up, holding hands with Mariana and Fran.  Moms standing there in the doorway of his apartment.  

 

The reek of Dominos pizza grease greets him from inside and Jesus can feel himself being pulled back through time for a second before Dudley is there, woofing low.

 

It’s enough to push him forward, so he’s between where Levi is with his sisters and where Moms are, still braced in the doorway.

 

“What the hell are you doing in my apartment?” Jesus asks, pissed.

 

“Well, what kind of a greeting is that?” Stef asks, miffed.  “We were just trying to surprise you.”

 

“Really?” Dominique asks, having handed off her key and sent Fran, Mari and Levi to her place.  “And what made you think that Jesus, Mariana or Francesca like surprises? Newsflash, they don’t.”

 

“Dominique,” Lena speaks up, like she’s about to placate a toddler.

 

“We don’t,” Jesus says, backing her up.

 

“So, you need to go,” Pearl insists.  “Take your pizza, and go.”

 

“I’m sorry, Pearl, but that’s not your call to make,” Lena insists.

 

At the same time, Stef says, “I need to hear that from Jesus.  Come on inside, bud. Let’s talk about this.”

 

Jesus almost goes.  Level 3 automatic dissociation is there, like an old skin.  But when he steps forward, Dudley alerts to the surge in his anxiety, and body-blocks Jesus from them with a growl.

 

It keeps him present.  Lets him know he’s safe, even with the damn pizza.  He has protection. He has people.

 

“This is not up for debate,” Pearl is saying.  “What you’re doing right now? This is breaking and entering.”

 

Jesus takes the moment where Stef laughs derisively to text fireworks to Val.  To whisper to Dominique: “Can you please go check the office? See if Val’s there?  Or Lena? Just...get someone up here, please. I’m not ordering you, okay?” he specifies, breathless.  “I just...need your help, Dominique. Please…” Jesus whispers.

 

“Yeah, I get it.  Thanks. Be right back,” she says and takes off.

 

“It’s not breaking and entering.  This is called  _ visiting _ ,” Stef explains, in the same voice she uses on Mari and Fran.

 

“How did you even get in here?!” Jesus exclaims.  

 

“Please.  We had a key made, obviously,” Stef scoffs.

 

“We weren’t about to let you move out and live somewhere on your own and not have a way to check in,” Lena adds.

 

“My mother had a key made, too,” Pearl says, crossing her arms.  (She uncrosses them, seeming to think better of it for some reason.)  “I still didn’t hesitate to have the locks changed after the fact.”

 

“Yeah, I heard all about how you threatened Carla,” Stef turns on Jesus.  “She’s pretty sure you’re the one behind the changing the locks idea, too.”

 

“Yeah, I was.  What the hell is it to you?” Jesus insists.

 

“You had better watch your tone,” Lena warns.

 

“Or what?” Jesus challenges.  “What the hell were you thinking bringing freaking  _ carryout pizza _ into my damn apartment!”

 

“Oh, my God.  This is about the pizza?” Lena laughs.  “Jesus, you  _ love _ pizza.  You always have.”

 

“Except ever since I came back from LA, it triggered the hell out of me!” Jesus seethes.

 

“Please don’t say  _ came back from LA _ like you were there on vacation,” Stef cringes.

 

“Since when did pizza ever trigger you, Jesus?” Lena wonders.  “If that were true, you would’ve said something.”

 

“Unless he couldn’t,” Pearl interjects.

 

“Stay out of this, Pearl.  You’ve obviously alienated them enough, convincing them that the new cool thing is to cut your parents out of your life.”

 

“Pizza’s triggered me from the second I got back!   _ Jude _ figured it out, and he was ten years old!   _ Francesca _ knows it triggers me!  Why the hell don’t you? Oh, I know.  Because you don’t give a shit.”

 

Stef steps up, and Jesus flinches, even though Dudley’s still blocking him.  

 

Pearl smoothly steps in front of him and plants her feet.  This time she does cross her arms. “Try it,” she challenges coolly, in a voice Jesus has never heard out of her.

 

Stef’s got the edge, height-wise, but Pearl’s not backing down.  It doesn’t matter that Jesus is actually so much bigger than both of them.  It’s not a size thing. He’s glad Pearl gets that, and isn’t afraid to stick up for him this way.

 

“Jesus, come on.  We’re not going to stand in the middle of the hall and yell at each other.  Come inside. Let’s talk this out,” Lena insists.

 

“Oh, my God,” Pearl exclaims.  She laughs - and it’s brittle - at the total ridiculousness.  “You are actively triggering him right now. He’s not coming in there with your hideous pizza.  Take it and leave. And Jesus might not like the idea of calling the cops, but if Frank were alive, he’d tell you?  I have no qualms about calling them.”

 

“How dare you,” Stef gasps, like she was super close to Grandpa or something.

 

“In case you weren’t aware, Pearl?  Stef _ is _ the police,” Lena tells her.

 

“Yes, I am aware,” Pearl stands her ground.  “Unfortunately, you can’t scare me with that fact like I know you can scare them,” Pearl nods over her shoulder, indicating Jesus.

 

\--

 

Dominique wills the elevator to go faster, but it stops at two to pick someone up and then takes its time landing on one.  When it does, and she steps off, the first thing she sees is a resident at the office door talking to one of the people inside.

 

Stepping up, Dominique interjects, “I’m so sorry.  I’m just wondering if Val’s here?”

 

“She’s not in the office, sorry,” a dude says and Dominique backs off.

 

“I thinks she’s with a resident,” another resident pipes up.

 

“Thank you,” Dominique says and she’s knocked on four doors to no avail when Val comes out of the next one she’s prepared to knock on.  

 

Dominique takes a step back.  “Hey. Jesus needs you. He sent me down here to find you.”

 

“I just was able to check my phone.  He texted me, too,” Val says, in a hurry to board the elevator with Dominique.

 

They ride up to the third floor together.  Dominique’s heart’s pounding, and she’s glad that their support staff is so thorough with each of them, talking through any and every safety plan they need.  (She and Lena Robinson have discussed fire safety at length and now they have it in writing that Dominique be allowed to evacuate, without being hassled, despite apartment protocol dictating that all residents stay put in the event of a drill or an actual fire.)

 

Similarly, she’s sure that Val and Jesus have talked about what he can do if his safety’s threatened.  It’s why Val’s hurrying down the hall now.

 

“Stef?  Lena?” she asks.  “Can you step out here, please?” 

 

“Hi, Val,” Lena greets, a professional smile in place that Dominique recognizes.  “I’m so sorry about this. It’s all just a big misunderstanding. Nothing to worry about.”

 

“Even so,” Val nods, gesturing them out into the hall.

 

“This is really a family matter,” Stef maintains.  “So, it’s great to see you. But we can take it from here.”

 

“Funny thing,” Val says, in a way that lets Dominique know she doesn’t find it funny at all.  “Jesus has let me know that, for you two? A family matter? That’s really code for abuse. I’m going to need you to step out in the hall.  Now. I’m not going to ask again. I am, however, prepared to call my supervisor and building security and have you removed.”

 

“On what grounds?” Stef insists.

 

“On the grounds that Jesus’s safety is my number one priority and my responsibility.  It should be yours, too.” Val doesn’t seem able to hide her contempt for Stef and Lena any longer.

 

“Yeah, well, it’s easy to make his safety your top priority when you’re being paid.  Try doing it for free,” Lena remarks. “I guarantee, your patience will wear thin.”

 

She storms out, past Jesus and Dudley.  Past Pearl and Cleo. Past Dominique and Val.  Stef follows, more slowly. They slam the door, leaving the damn Dominos pizza inside Jesus’s apartment.

 

“I guess you can call us, then?” Stef says stiffly from down the hall.  “We’ve got that workshop the 25th - 29th. We expect the girls home when we get there.”

 

“The family with disabilities is invited to come on the 27th,” Lena adds.  “We were going to talk to them about that. But I guess you can.”

 

\--

 

Jesus doesn’t leave the hall until he’s positive Moms have gotten on the elevator and gone.

 

“Where do you wanna be?” Val asks and fear surges inside him.  

 

“I can’t go in  _ there _ …” Jesus says, eyes wide, glancing at his own door.

 

Dominique glances up from her phone, and says, “Y’all are welcome at my place if you want.  It’s a little crowded, but no triggering smells…”

 

“Yeah, thanks…” Jesus nods.  “I mean...if you’re cool with me there.”

 

“As long as it’s not just you and me and the door shut, I’m good,” Dominique nods.

 

“I can take care of the pizza,” Pearl promises.  “Air the place out. If you’re okay with me being in your space.”

 

“Yeah, that’d be awesome.  Thank you,” Jesus nods. “Thank you both for having my back,” he says, including Dominique this time.

 

“Of course,” Dominique nods.

 

\--

 

“Fran and Mari?” Levi calls.  “Dominique says she and Jesus and Val are about to come in.  Your moms are gone. So don’t worry.”

 

“Where’s Pearl?” Fran asks.

 

“She’s gonna hang out at Jesus’s for a little bit,” Levi passes along.  He goes to crack the door, sliding Roberta back with his foot. She tries to scratch him through his shoe.  “Yeah, you’re still not getting out, though,” he tells the cat softly.

 

“Hey...why...do you smell like pee?” Dominique greets him softly, wrinkling her nose.

 

“Don’t say anything about it, alright?” Levi begs.  “I didn’t--I didn’t-- know where you kept your carpet cleaner, but you’ve got a couple of places that could use a spot-clean.  Jesus, can I run next door since Pearl’s there and change?”

 

“Dude, you don’t have to ask me.  Go change, yeah,” Jesus nods.

 

“Cool.  Fran and Mari?  I’m running over to Jesus’s real quick.  But Dominique’s here. So is Jesus, and so is Val, okay?”

 

“You’re leaving?!” Fran calls, panicked.

 

“Not forever, Fran,” Levi reassures.  “Just for a couple minutes. If you need me, I’m gonna be right across the hall.  Stef and Lena are gone. So it’s safe if you need to come knock on the door if you need me or Pearl, okay?”

 

“Okay.  Is Dominique mad?” she asks, timid.

 

Levi raises his eyebrows at Dominique.

 

“Not at all, babe.  You’re not in trouble.  You come out when you’re ready.  Mariana, are you in there, too?” she checks.

 

Dom’s phone chimes an Avoider Chat signal and Levi imagines she’s texted.

 

“She can’t say much right now.  They’re both really freaked out,” Levi passes along.

 

“Thanks for taking care of them,” Jesus passes along.

 

“No problem,” he drops his voice and nods at Jesus.  “Hey...if I wanted to grab a quick shower?”

 

“Go for it.  Yeah,” Jesus nods.  “You really don’t need to ask me.”

 

But Levi really actually does.

 

\--

 

Pearl’s busy attempting to figure out the locking mechanism on all of Jesus’s windows when there’s a knock on his door.  She goes to peek out. It’s Levi.

 

“Hey,” she pulls the door open.  “Ooh,” she winces, getting a good look at him.  He’s pale and shaking. Pearl has to be careful right now.  She has to dial back her inclination to intensely check in with him.  To mention showering or anything relating to hygiene.

 

Levi watches her, not speaking.

 

“I’m just trying to open some windows,” she tells him calmly.  “Jesus is triggered by the smell of pizza.”

 

“Here, let--let--let me try,” he says.  And before she can protest, he’s got the bedroom window, and the living room one ajar.

 

“Thank you.  Now I just have to find a home for all this pizza,” she scoops up the two boxes.  “I think I’ll take it down to the office and see if the staff would like some. Maybe pick up an application to live here, if they have that sort of thing on hand.  I’ll give you space. You can lock this door after me,” she says nodding to the main door.  

 

Levi nods, closing the door immediately.

 

Pearl feels immense relief for him as she hears the deadbolt click into place behind her.


	121. Re-Arrange Again

Alone inside Jesus’s apartment, Levi finds he can’t shower yet.  He’s transfixed by the sight of a homemade calendar, with Monday through Friday indicating obvious things:   **_F - school.  M - therapy._ ** October 25th - 29th is highlighted with  **_WORKSHOP_ ** written across it.  And on the 27th?  **_M and F at workshop - family day._ **

 

Levi avoids the table, keeping a lot of space between him and it.  There’s a jug of 2% there. Plastic cups. Paper plates. Napkins. Silverware.  And what Levi’s been struggling (and failing) to ignore...the best coffee mugs Jesus and Mariana have - they read:  _ It’s a twin thing.  You wouldn’t understand) _ are out.  Coffee in the bottom of one.  Lipstick residue on the other.  Like they just came in and hung out in here.

 

It makes Levi’s skin crawl.

 

He picks up the 2% to refrigerate since obviously, Stef and Lena thought Jesus didn’t have any.  He blinks, seeing the entire contents of Jesus’s fridge rearranged. There’s a wide space on his bottom shelf - presumably for all the leftover pizza.

 

Levi purses his lips.  Puts the milk away. Then he does his best to put everything in the refrigerator back the way Jesus had it.  He washes the coffee mugs Stef and Lena used. Dries them and puts them away. Rinses the coffee pot and throws out the filter.  Then goes to the pantry to put the paper products away and sees that’s been messed with, too.

 

The Hostess cupcakes and chocolate pudding are on the shelf with Cheetos and granola bars.  Levi knows for a fact Jesus keeps the cupcakes and pudding separate (along with a can of Sprite.)

 

He puts the plates and plastic cups back.  The cupcakes and pudding go back on the top shelf.  And then, Levi scours the pantry and fridge for the can of Sprite.  He doesn’t find it until he looks in the recycling.

 

The can’s empty.

 

Levi feels rage and tears building suddenly in him.  What the actual hell? There’s literally no reason for them to have tossed Jesus’s Sprite.  Pop doesn’t expire. It wasn’t even diet (which he would need to be careful of.) It was  _ one  _ can, kept somewhere specific, for a reason, obviously.  (And he’s gathered more about the reason since happening on his sketchbook, open to a page of a child with haunting eyes, chains, Sprite and pudding.)

 

Checking his pocket for change, Levi braces himself.  He closes the door behind him and runs down all the stairs to the lobby.  He sticks his dollar bill in the machine and gets a fresh Sprite, running back upstairs to put it in its rightful place.

 

Finally, Levi’s about to get a change of clothes, when he freezes.  What if Stef and Lena were in his room? What if they went through his stuff?

 

Taking a breath, Levi braces himself and pushes the door open.  Everything looks okay. He bends down and finds a pair of sweats to change into.  Walks to the bathroom and stops in his tracks again.

 

Jesus’s hand towel - usually hung up - is folded neatly on the edge of the bathroom sink.  The soap moved from the right side of the sink to the left.

 

Levi groans, shaking the hand towel out.  It’s damp and he feels disgusting touching it.  He hangs it back up and moves the soap back to its original place.

 

Eventually, pulling the curtain back, Levi gives the shower a once-over.  This, at least, looks untouched.

 

He locks himself in the bathroom and turns the water on hot.  He takes the longest shower he’s taken in a while. The water can’t get any hotter, but that’s fine.  That’s the way he needs it to be.

 

When the heat starts leaving the water, Levi gets out.  Gets a little hung up looking at his clothes, in a pile on the sink (the others in a pile on the floor).  But nobody can help him now if he gets stuck. He’s not about to contact his friends from the bathroom like this.  He’s just got to muscle though it. Help out. Not make anything worse for Jesus, Fran or Mari.

 

They are who matter here.

 

\--

 

Jesus keeps it together long enough to give Levi the okay to use the shower.  Pizza grease clings to him. He smells it even now. Even putting several doors between him and it doesn’t help.  He shuts himself in Dominique’s costume room and feels even worse there. A whole freaking room full of disguises.  His own personal hell. Val knocks briefly and comes in.

 

Finds him pacing.

 

“You wanna get some fresh air?” she asks.

 

He freezes.  Feeling caught.

 

“Hey.  It’s Val.  You’re safe.”  She moves to one side of the open door, giving him an out, if he needs it.  “I just don’t want you feeling trapped, okay? So I wondered if you wanted to go outside with me.  Do you?”

 

“What do you think I should do?” Jesus asks, and mentally kicks himself.  He needs to stop this right the hell now. No more manipulating or deferring or whatever the hell he’s doing.

 

“Jesus,” Val says.  Just that.

 

“Yeah…” he mutters.  He’s aware of Dominique cleaning.  Knows Mariana and Fran are still in the bathroom.  Pearl knocks and comes in when Dominique opens the door.  It all helps, but it also feels crowded. Like too much chaos.  Unpredictability. Like being at home used to feel all the time.

 

“Yeah?” Val echoes.  “Yeah, you wanna go outside?”

 

Dudley perks up at this.  Even though he’s still doing his thing and dialed into Jesus, his tail wags just a bit.

 

“I know  _ you _ wanna go outside,” Jesus tells Dudley.  “But I...can’t.”

 

“Okay,” Val says, patient.  “Where  _ can _ you be?”

 

“Wherever…” Jesus mutters.  “I mean, it’s up to you.”

 

“Jesus,” Val says again.  “Hang in there, with me, okay?  Where you feel safe? Only you know that.  It’s not up to me.”

 

“I can’t,” Jesus repeats.

 

“Can’t what?” Val prompts.

 

“Go.  Stay. Anything,” Jesus gestures a little.  Dudley whines.

 

“I hear you saying you do feel trapped right now.  Is that accurate?” Val checks.

 

“Costumes,” he gestures.

 

“I see that.  I know you’re not a fan of disguises.  And you can’t go outside. Can you tell me why?”

 

“The weirdo,” Jesus manages.

 

“There was a  _ weirdo _ outside,” Val repeats, somehow managing to stay completely serious.  “When was this?”

 

“This morning…” Jesus mumbles.

 

“Jesus?  I can see you’re feeling nervous.  But you’re not in trouble right now.  What happened this morning?”

 

Jesus wishes that Dudley could just do all the talking, and that way Val would know and Jesus wouldn’t be stuck having to talk about it.  He doesn’t want to say anything. Not unless he knows exactly what to say. Exactly how to say it.  

 

“Are you with me?” Val checks.

 

“Ask them…” Jesus nods.

 

“Who do you want me to ask, Jesus?” Val asks.

 

“Anybody.”

 

“Anybody know anything about a weirdo Jesus encountered this morning?” Val calls.

 

“Oh!  Me!” Francesca comes out of the bathroom with her hand up.  She still looks shaken up, but can never resist the opportunity to be the one to answer questions.

 

“Jesus?  You want Fran to tell me?” Val checks again.

 

He nods.

 

Val nods at Francesca.

 

Fran takes a deep breath and begins: “So, there was a lady outside this morning while Jesus was walking Dudley and she recognized him and acted, you know, the same way all of them do when that happens.”  She waves a hand.

 

“Which way is that?” Val wonders.

 

“Like they know him.  Like they’re his friend.  But they’re not, really. They’re just a weirdo.  So, the lady tried to get Jesus to talk to her about some stuff and he wouldn’t because he’s a human and it’s his right to…” Fran runs out of breath here and breathes again.  “...say no…”

 

“That’s true,” Val nods.  “Anything else?”

 

“She knew who Dudley was because she read a site all about Mariana that was personal.  Only none of us knew about it. Jesus, you don’t like it when strangers know personal stuff about you, just like me, right?”

 

“Right,” he agrees.

 

“Thanks, Francesca.  Can we have the room, please?” Val asks.

 

“Should I close the door, buddy?  Or leave it open?”

 

Jesus shrugs.

 

“Half!  Or wait...which way was it when I got here?” Fran wonders.

 

Jesus can tell she’s still super wound up from seeing Moms. It takes Dominique walking in and taking her hand.  Actually walking out with her, for Fran to stop messing with the door.

 

“The door was open.  So, let’s leave it open,” Dominique advises gently and walks out with Fran to the living room.

 

Val waits until Fran’s settled in the other room and the anxiety gone down a bit before she speaks again:

 

“So...I’m a safe person.  Part of my job is to protect my people from weirdos.  If I could guarantee you safety from the weirdos, would you want to go out?”

 

“Yeah, but you can’t,” Jesus objects.

 

“Oh, but I  _ can _ , though,” Val nods, confident.

 

Jesus thinks for a minute.  “Well, you did deal with Stef and Lena…” he mutters.

 

“I wasn’t gonna say it…” Val holds up her hands in surrender.  “But you are welcome to.”

 

“So, yeah, I guess,”  Jesus nods.

 

“Let’s back up,” Val urges.  “Slow down. Because this is not me forcing you somewhere you don’t want to be.  This is me asking you a question. About where you want to be. I want to know if you consent, or not.  Either is okay.”

 

“I do consent,” he nods.  “I need to get out of here.  Breathe.”

 

“Okay,” Val agrees.

 

She lets him lead the way.  He says bye to Fran and assures her he’s not going far and that she’ll be safe with Mariana, Pearl and Dominique.  He stops outside Dom’s door and stares at his own.

 

“They’re gone,” Val reminds.  “It’s okay.”

 

“I can still smell it…” he says, and feels like gagging.

 

“Yeah, pizza’s a strong one.  If we keep walking, we can get you to the fresh air.  Where you won’t have to smell that anymore.”

 

“That’d be ideal…” Jesus manages.

 

He leads the way to the elevator and rides down, only to be met with more of the same.  (Pearl probably did what all the residents do - what he does, even - and left it down in the lobby.)  He spies it on the table.

 

The scent drags him back to a dank basement.  The memory of chains dig in as clear as if they’re here now.  Jesus rubs his wrists.

 

“You’re doing great.  We’re almost there,” Val encourages.

 

And when they get outside, Jesus feels like passing out.  He’s so relieved. He’s weak. His damn heart is about to beat out of his chest.

 

“They should know,” he comments softly, when Jesus really wants to scream it.  “They should know that freaking Dominos pizza is exactly what I lived on. Trapped in the damn basement for more than two months.  I got whatever was left. Stale as hell crust. Maybe, if I was lucky, a full piece He left behind.”

 

Val just listens.  

 

Dudley licks him.

 

“But they never even asked me, Val.  Not once in ten years. Why does the spaced-out-standing-behind-my-chair-shit pick up when we eat pizza?  Because they don’t even notice a pattern.”

 

“They were wrong to not notice.  They should have,” Val says firmly.

 

Jesus sits down at the picnic table out back.  Feels the tears on his face. His nose and throat burning.  His wrists ache. His waist. Phantom chains are the worst, but somehow not as bad as Moms coming into his home when he wasn’t even there.

 

“You know, He used to do the same exact thing to me?” Jesus asks, quiet.

 

Val cocks her head slightly, listening.

 

“He’d send me to get ready for bed.  I’d go. And I’d find Him there. Waiting.  In my room. In my bed.” Jesus shivers. “And they don’t know that.  Right?”

 

“They don’t know that,” Val echoes.  “But they shouldn’t need explicit direction not to break into your apartment.”

 

“I was just gonna ask if it was expecting too much to expect them to get this stuff when I never tell them my triggers in the first place,” Jesus admits.

 

“Well, why would you?” Val asks rhetorically.

 

“You know...a friend of mine…” Jesus says, deliberately protecting Pearl’s identity.  “Had their mom do something really similar. Same as Stef and Lena, she had a key made.  I confronted her. Got the key back for my friend. But I couldn’t get it back for me…”

 

Jesus hangs his head.  Dudley’s right there, under the picnic table, and licks his face.

 

“Confronting anybody who has proven to be unsafe is scary.  And it makes sense that confronting someone else’s mother is easier for you than confronting your own.  It’s your right as a human being to be safe. If you have the chance to safely get the key back and you want to?  Do it. But don’t beat yourself up for it if you can’t.”

 

Jesus lets out a breath.

 

“Can I just say?  I am ridiculously proud of how you’re handling everything right now?”

 

Jesus looks up to see Val smiling at him.  She seems so genuinely happy right now.

 

“Seriously?” he asks.

 

“Seriously.  You’re coping really well right now.  And I want you to notice that. And to know that  _ I  _ notice it.”

 

“Thanks for being here,” he says.  “For coming through for me.”

 

“Anytime,” she nods.

 

“I should get back.  Check in with everybody,” Jesus tells her.

 

“Don’t forget to let them check in with you,” Val suggests gently.

 

“Yeah.  I’ll do that,” Jesus nods, heading back inside, holding his breath past the pizza.


	122. Bigger

Nobody else seems freaked out that Mariana can’t speak.  

 

But she is.

 

It reminds her too much of back in those early days when all she had as constants were fear and triggers, and no way of expressing any of it that anybody really understood.  Except for Jesus. And he’s not here.

 

Besides, he’s right.  Their twinbrain does pretty much stop working around Moms.

 

She’s still all surging anxiety and racing heart and no words anywhere.  It sucks. Fran’s so hyped up from the coffee ice cream that Dominique has to constantly try to calm her.  

 

Pearl keeps trying to talk to Mariana.  And while she appreciates not being ignored, she’d rather figure out how to calm the hell down, but it doesn’t look like that’s happening.

 

“Guys!  Did you hear?” Fran asks, too loud.  “I told Val all about the weirdo and the website with personal stuff on it!”

 

Mariana shakes her head.  “No,” she manages, still just as pissed-sounding as ever.  The word feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. But she cannot handle Fran talking about the website like it’s E! News with hot gossip, not yet another thing that’s actively ruining her.

 

The thought’s in her head, before she can banish it:

 

_ Did Nick see? _

 

Her face, which has managed to return to now-normal goes tingly all over again.

 

“What?  Yes, I did, too, Mariana!” Fran insists.  “You heard, right, Dominique?”

 

“I need to step out for a minute,” Dominique says (code for she’s triggered.  Mariana knows this by now. Wishes she weren’t losing her shit so she could maybe actually help.)

 

“Well, Pearl, were you here when I said that?  I really  _ did _ say it!” Fran insists, louder.

 

“Shut up,” Mariana grinds out.

 

“ _ You _ shut up!” Fran retorts, angry.  She’s shaking. 

 

“Okay, okay,” Pearl says, attempting to intervene.  “Fran, let’s give Mariana some space.”

 

“I hate it when you yell at me,” Fran screams over her shoulder.

 

“Well, I hate you, too!” Mari says back, and the words are out of her mouth and Fran’s in tears before Mariana realizes that what she’s said isn’t what she meant to say at all.

 

Better leave, before something else comes out of her mouth that she’ll regret.

 

\--

 

“Okay, I’m sorry their parents brought pizza, but it’s delicious,” Dominique says.  

 

Her support person, Lena, moans in agreement.  “Mmm, yes. You doing okay?”

 

“You mean other than the thousand triggered people in my house?  Yeah, I’m great…”

 

“What about you?” Lena presses, curious.

 

“What  _ about _ me?” Dominique asks, taking another bite of pizza.  She can just see Jesus and Val’s backs outside on the patio.

 

“Are you one of the thousand triggered people?” Lena asks easily.

 

“They came into  _ his house _ \-  _ his apartment _ \- whatever - when he wasn’t even  _ home _ ,” Dominique emphasizes.  “You know who does that?”

 

“Sounds like  _ they _ did it,” Lena comments, measured.

 

“Yes.  But also stalkers.  Serial killers. Kidnappers.  And  _ their son got freaking kidnapped _ !” Dominique exclaims in a whisper.  “Are you kidding me?”

 

“Hey, Dominique?” Lena says.  

 

When Dominique looks her way, Lena draws a slow, deep breath.

 

Taking the hint, Dominique breathes a little, too.

 

“Sounds like seeing them triggered you,” Lena says softly.

 

“Do you have to go saying it out loud like that?” Dominique asks, laughing nervously.  She opens her water with a shaky hand.

 

“It’s okay to talk about it,” Lena says, so gently.

 

And it’s the gentleness that breaks Dom.  Tears fill her eyes. Spill down. She wipes them away quick.  Shakes her head no.

 

“No?” Lena checks.  “You can’t talk about it?”

 

Dominique nods.

 

“Well, it’s okay to feel about it, then,” Lena reassures, offering a hand.

 

When Dominique accepts it, Lena asks another question.  So painfully obvious. ( _ So _ something Dominique just wants to keep buried.)

 

“Who else was kidnapped?” Lena asks in a small voice, almost a whisper.

 

Dominique swallows a sob and points to herself.

 

“Right.  Dominique, this isn’t just about your friend.  You seeing your friend’s parents where you did and how you did?  That reminded you of what happened to  _ you _ .”

 

Dominique nods.

 

“And that’s okay,” Lena nods, squeezing her hand.  “That makes sense. We don’t have to talk about it.  But it is safe to feel about it.”

 

But all Dominique can think about is how Jesus is right outside.  And if he comes in and catches her crying, it’s gonna be a whole thing.

 

Lena follows Dominique’s gaze.  “Feel more comfortable in the office?” she asks.

 

Dominique nods, and gets up to follow her.

 

\--

 

Pearl, it seems, is the only one thriving in these chaotic moments after seeing Stef and Lena.  It feels so normal. So much more normal than being constantly, painfully aware of her own feelings and those of the people around her.  Seeing parents in the exact place they _ should not be _ somehow feels expected for Pearl.

 

It’s because of that, she supposes, that she’s the one left to comfort Francesca after and she and Mariana had words with each other.

 

She’s sobbing on the couch, and does not want anything to do with Pearl’s attempts to comfort her.

 

Every comfort item Pearl brings gets flung back at her.  Every word she says is met with even louder sobbing.

 

“She....hates...me!” Fran wails.

 

“Francesca…  What would help?” Pearl asks, feeling helpless.

 

“Nothing!  Go away!”

 

“I can’t do that,” Pearl apologizes.  “I can give you a little space, though.”

 

Fran just keeps crying.  “I’m the worst! I’m nothing but a big baby!  I can’t do anything right!”

 

“Hey.  I understand you feel really sad about what Mariana said. But that doesn’t mean all these other things you’re saying are true.”

 

“Yes, it does!  You don’t know!” Fran insists, turning angry, devastated eyes Pearl’s way.

 

“No, it does not,” Pearl sits down on the far end of the couch, and Roberta jumps up, right next to Fran’s head.

 

“Go away, Roberta.  I’m too mad,” Francesca sobs.  But she reaches out to pet Roberta anyway.  The cat purrs, putting more space between herself and Cleo, who’s curled in Pearl’s lap.

 

“Sounds like you might be pretty sad, too,” Pearl observes.

 

“Yeah, well, Mariana hates me so…” Fran lets the sentence end there.

 

Pearl’s quiet and Fran just pets Roberta and inches closer and closer to Pearl until she’s leaning against Pearl’s arm.

 

“Do you want to know...one of the first things I ever said to Levi?” Pearl asks, once Fran’s calmed down and isn’t crying anymore.

 

“What?” Fran gasps.

 

“‘ _ I don’t have a brother _ ,’” Pearl shares grimly.  “He’d shown up at my cabin.  Introduced himself. Told me he was my brother, and I told him no.  Sorry. I don’t have one of those.”

 

“But you did,” Fran points out.

 

“I did,” Pearl nods.  “Levi knew he was my brother.  Deep down inside. But even though he knows that?  Sometimes, I think the words I said still hurt his feelings,” Pearl admits.

 

“They do,” Fran says.  “Because I’m the youngest just like him.  I have an older sister like he does. I know how it feels when they hurt your feelings…”

 

“Right,” Pearl says.  “But the thing to remember is that older sisters?  We love our younger siblings. Always. Sometimes, we say the wrong thing,” Pearl explains.

 

“But you’re grown up.  So is Mariana. Grown ups shouldn’t do that to kids.  It’s not the same as a kid saying it to another kid.”

 

“No, it’s not.  You’re right. That’s a very good point,” Pearl says.

 

“I hear a  _ but _ …” Francesca can’t seem to stop herself from smiling and it’s moments like these that Pearl is reminded that she is gloriously and wonderfully still eleven years old.  Easily entertained by homophones. (Seriously, who doesn’t love hearing  _ butt _ in a sentence?)

 

“No, no but,” Pearl smiles back.

 

“She should say she’s sorry,” Fran says.  “Because that’s what we do as Avoiders. And humans.”

 

“Right you are,” Pearl nods.  “Give her some time. Give yourself some, too.  Seeing your moms was pretty upsetting.”

 

\--

 

Levi comes out of Jesus’s apartment and steps into the hall.  Finds Mariana leaning against the wall, eyes closed against the light.

 

“Hey.  Wanna come inside?” Levi invites.

 

She nods, taking the hand he offers.  

 

Levi holds open the door.  He literally just turned off all the lights, but doesn’t figure Mari will mind.  (He is a little nervous she might notice the calendar…)

 

She does, and swipes it off the table, where Levi had carefully avoided touching it.

 

“Sorry.  I didn’t know what to do with that.  But I figured...that was y’all’s call to make.  Not mine.”

 

“Garbage...dirtballs…” Mariana manages, leaning down to pick up the paper and tossing it in the trash.

 

“ _ Pitch Perfect _ ?” Levi guesses her reference.

 

She nods.  Walks over and sits on the futon, rubbing her temples.

 

“I tried…” he manages.

 

She glances up, the question clear on her face.

 

“...To take care of all this…  So you and Jesus and Fran...wouldn’t be stressed or whatever.  Sorry I missed with the schedule, or whatever I just...didn’t wanna touch it.”

 

Mariana reaches out and takes his hand in both of hers.  Looks him in the eyes. Shakes her head.

 

“It’s  _ in me _ , though.  To beat myself up,” he says.

 

She nods.  

 

Levi doesn’t rush to fill the silence.  He loves conversations with Mariana so much, because in so many ways, they just get each other.

 

“Hate them...but...I said…  I hated her,” Mariana manages.  Each word sounds like it takes a ton of effort for her.

 

“You misspoke?” he asks.

 

She nods.  Sniffs. A tear makes its way down her cheek.

 

“You wanna keep talking about it?  Or you just want me to be here?” Levi asks.

 

She nods again.

 

“Both?” he guesses.

 

Another nod.

 

“I can do that.  So, you said her.  Did you...say that to Fran?” Levi tries, going with closest relations first.

 

“I’m...whatever, Levi!  I can’t even!” Mariana exclaims.

 

“Was it Fran?” Levi double checks.

 

She nods.

 

“I’m such...garbage…” Mariana moans.

 

“Makes sense.  You feeling bad about telling Fran you hate her,” Levi nods.  “But, to be clear, I don’t think you’re garbage.”

 

“If you need my help talking to her, I’d be happy to,” he offers.

 

“She kept...talking about the thing…” Mariana whispers.

 

“She kept talking about the…” Levi waits for context.

 

“Hellsite…” Mariana manages, eventually.

 

“Oh.  God. Yeah, that would be triggering.  Especially on top of everything else.”

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ I wanted to say...I HATE IT WHEN YOU TALK ABT THAT.  But my brain just grabbed whatever words from what she just said...so I said I hated her, too. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ I don’t, Levi. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ I know. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ What if he saw it.  Nick. Saw the thing. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ That’s a terrifying concern.  And a valid one. I hope he didn’t. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Tell me he didn’t.  Freaking out that he did. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ He didn’t see it.  Esp if he is not following your social media.  Or your moms. Chances are he never saw it. Now he never will. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ I don’t want him knowing all that about me.  I mean, I don’t want anyone knowing. But esp not him. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ He won’t.  It’s gone. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Once it’s on the internet, it’s always on the internet… _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ So sorry.  I wish it never were. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Wouldn’t be.  If I didn’t fucking self-destruct… _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ No.  It wouldn’t be, if your moms / Brandon / whoever hadn’t made it. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ True. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Is your heart okay? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Can’t feel my face.  Well, I can now. And my hand.  So progress. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ But your heart though… _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Not OK.  Yours? _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ So not okay either. _

 

\--

 

Francesca’s not ready to see Mari when she comes back in with Levi.  (Levi’s dressed in a whole other outfit now - sweats - because Fran was such a big baby and peed all over him.  He should never look at her again.)

 

“Hey,” Mari says.

 

Fran buries her head in her arms.  “Don’t talk to me. People don’t talk to people they hate.”

 

Her phone pings with an Avoiders Chat message - no - just a Fran and Mari one.  She doesn’t want to look but she’s too curious not to look.

 

She just finds a screenshot of the note Mariana wrote earlier on her phone.  The one that says:  _ I read something really hard for me yesterday.  So I feel bad about myself. When I feel bad, words are hard. _

 

“I already know this, Mariana,” Fran pouts.

 

“Just wait, though,” Pearl says coming over.  “May I see?”

 

Fran shoves her phone over Pearl’s direction.  

 

“So, this is about the website,” Pearl says, looking to Mariana who nods.

 

“I already know!” Fran exclaims.

 

“Hey.  I know you’re feeling sad, but Mariana’s trying to explain,” Levi says.

 

“I don’t care!” Fran says back.  “You should just say sorry! But you’re not even doing that!”

 

“I am…” Mariana comments quietly.

 

“No, you’re not,” Francesca argues, feeling like she might cry.

 

“No, I  _ am _ .  Sorry,” Mariana tries again.  

 

Francesca looks up, surprised.  “You are? Really?”

 

Mariana nods.

 

“I didn’t like it when you said you hated me,” Fran admits.

 

“It was...that,” she gestures to Fran’s phone.

 

Fran rereads the message.  “ _ Words are hard _ , I know.  And we had a lot of stress.  Wait so… Did you  _ mean _ you hated me?  Or did you mean something else?”

 

“Something else,” Mari says, and Fran feels like she can breathe again.  Thank goodness Mariana doesn’t hate her.

 

Mari nods at Levi.  And he joins in, just in a nice way like he usually does.  “You were talking about the website when this happened, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Fran nods.

 

“That was making Mariana feel bad about herself, to think about it.  When she feels bad...she can’t always say exactly what she means.”

 

“What  _ did  _ you mean?” Fran asks.

 

Mariana looks at Levi again for help.

 

“She needed you to stop talking about the website.  She was trying to tell you that. But other words came out instead.”

 

“So….I’m sorry, first of all,” Fran says.

 

Mariana reaches out and gives her hug.

 

“Also, does this mean…  Do you still love me?” Fran asks, afraid, but needing to know anyway.

 

“Always,” Mariana nods, hugging her tighter.

 

“It’s just like how you said,” Fran says looking at Pearl.

 

“I told you.  We older sisters love our younger sibs.  For life. There’s no expiration date.”

 

Jesus and Dominique come back in, and it’s a little weird because they missed a lot of stuff.  But it’s a little bit like ‘thank goodness,’ because they’re all together again.

 

And Francesca always loves it best when they’re all together.


	123. Steady Now

When Dominique and Lena get to the office, it’s empty except for them.  Dominique needs the privacy. She needs the closed door. The safety of it just being them in a room with no meaning attached other than its real one.

 

Lena just sits with her and rubs her back. Dominique can’t get it together, but it doesn’t seem to matter.  Lena just hands her tissues.

 

“You can feel this,” Lena keeps saying.  “It’s safe to feel it right now.”

 

“No…” Dominique manages.  “I wasn’t gone as long as he was.  Not even a quarter of the time. It isn’t right.”

 

“Dominique, it’s so right.  And so about time that you can let yourself feel this.  It’s a good thing,” Lena encourages. “This is you and me right now.  It’s not about Jesus. You’ve got plenty to grieve, Dominique, without comparing your stuff to his.”

 

“He always talks about it…” she admits, squeezing a destroyed tissue in her fist.

 

“Mm-hmm, I wanna try to keep the focus on you right now, Dominique.  Okay? So...do you get to talk about it?”

 

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Dominique admits.

 

“Also fair,” Lena nods.

 

“They were just there,” Dominique tries to breathe through her stuffed nose.

 

“Who?” Lena asks softly.

 

“His parents,” Dominique manages.

 

“Stef and Lena.  Jesus’s parents,” Lena fills in.  She’s big on names.

 

Dominique nods.

 

“So, I’m here with you right now.  We’re in the office. Safe. You wanna go back in your mind to when you saw them?” Lena asks.  “Try and process what went on?”

 

“You promise to stay?” Dominique asks, wary.

 

“I’m not leaving you,” Lena reassures.  “So, let’s just take a minute. Breathe.  Look around you. Know where you are?”

 

“The office,” Dominique fills in.

 

“Awesome.  Which office?  Where are we located?” Lena asks.

 

“First floor.  Gateway Apartments.  San Diego, California.  United States. North America.  Earth--” Dominique rattles off.

 

“Okay.  Slow down.  We’ll stick with first floor.  Gateway Apartments. We’re in the office.  You know who you’re with right now?”  

 

“Obviously,” Dominique says, unable to deal with the slowness.  They need to get to the point.

 

“Take your time.  You don’t need to be panic-listing.  Just breathe. If you feel comfortable, look at me.  And when you’re ready, you can just say my name.”

 

It’s the being ready that messes with Dominique’s mind.  She’s never gonna be ready because this is going too damn slow.  But Lena just sits. Just waits. Until Dominique can finally start to relax.  Feel the chair she’s in. The floor under her feet.

 

“Lena Robinson,” Dominique says.

 

Nodding, Lena says, “Now.  This is your processing, Dominique.  So, if you ever feel unsafe, or like it’s too much.  We’ll stop.”

 

“You’ll know?” Dominique checks.  (She knows herself well enough to know that she has yet to feel safe uttering the word ‘stop’ to anyone.)

 

“I’ll know,” Lena echoes.  “What do you wanna tell me about how seeing Stef and Lena felt…”

 

“We got off the elevator and I heard them talking.  Jesus and Pearl ran. I was behind.” Dominique recounts.

 

“Okay.  Breathe.  And slow down...if you can…  When you’re ready, what did you feel when you were running?”

 

Dominique thinks back.  “When I escaped...used the bathroom and called 911 and all the pounding outside.  Yelling.”

 

“So when you were running toward Jesus’s apartment tonight, you felt the same as you did when you escaped when you were eleven.  Is that right?”

 

Dominique nods.

 

“So, we found young Dominique.  What was she feeling? Can you find it for me?  Name it?” Lena challenges gently.

 

“Fear,” Dominique swallows.

 

“I hear you saying you felt afraid when you were young and calling for help.  And you felt like that again when you got off the elevator. Can you tell me what kind of fear it was, Dominique?  Describe it?”

 

“Real big,” Dominique manages, feeling every inch eleven years old.  “Strong.”

 

“So you were feeling some real big, strong fear when you were eleven,” Lena reaffirms.

 

Dominique almost says “yes, ma’am,” like she used to address all adults like Lena when she was a child.  She nods instead.

 

“And you felt that same fear again tonight,” Lena reminds her.  “So, when you got up to Stef and Lena, how did you feel?”

 

“Like when...I had to open the door,” Dominique shares, still feeling impossibly young.  “All the yelling was still going on. And I was afraid they were gonna hurt Roberta.”

 

“The woman who helped you,” Lena fills in, knowing.

 

Dominique nods.

 

“I hear you saying you were afraid again.  Can you tell me if that fear you were feeling is the more strong, less strong, or the same strong as when you were running.  When you first hid in the bathroom?”

 

“More,” Dominique swallows.

 

“I see how hard this is for you.  I can’t imagine how tough it is for you to get in touch with your younger self again, but you’re doing so excellently right now, talking about your feelings. I want you to get your bearings again, Dominique.  Look around you, breathe, while I remind you that you’re safe.”

 

Dominique draws a shuddering breath, taking in the office chair she’s in.  The carpeting. The desk. Lena’s face.

 

“You’re not a little girl anymore,” Lena says, compassion coming through every word.  “You’re an adult now. And you can protect young Dominique.”

 

“She’s still here,” Dominique shares, quiet.

 

“Definitely, she is.  We all bring our younger selves with us in life.  But grown Dominique can tell young Dominique,  _ Hey.  It’s okay.  I got this _ .”

 

“I got this…” Dominique murmurs.

 

“That’s right.  So, young Dominique might be stressing,” Lena says, knowing.

 

“Oh, she is,” Dominique agrees.

 

“And that’s okay.  Because you got this.  You’ve got safe people.  You’ve got show tunes to watch and water to drink, and your cat, and your friends and your parents, all to be with you, and help you.”

 

“Okay,” Dominique nods, feeling herself grow back up somehow.  There’s a comfort in that.

 

“You wanna tell me anymore about seeing Stef and Lena?  Did you speak to them?”

 

“I did,” Dominique nods, feeling calmer.  “After I gave Fran my key and Levi took her and Mariana over.”

 

“Okay,” Lena nods.  “That’s a great pace you’ve got with your words right now.  And you sound like you’re present. Do you notice that?”

 

“I feel...yeah.  I notice that,” Dominique nods.

 

“What do you feel?  You can share if you like,” Lena encourages.

 

“Grounded, maybe?  Or…” she checks the giant Feelings Wheel on the wall.  “Secure, I guess?”

 

“That’s awesome,” Lena smiles.  “I’m so glad to hear that. I’m happy for you.  And that was good thinking, giving them your key.”

 

“Instinct, I guess,” Dominique shrugs.

 

“Is it also instinct to shrug off praise?” Lena probes carefully.

 

“It is,” Dominique admits.  “So used to it all being in the past.  For  _ that girl _ , you know?”

 

“Who’s that girl, Dominique?” Lena asks, unflinching.

 

“It’s like you were saying.  Young kid. Super-speller. Super-confident.  Or...Amber...who got praise for...other things.”

 

“So, praise might feel dangerous,” Lena deduces.

 

“It might,” Dominique nods.

 

“But that girl has a name, right?” Lena checks.

 

“Why you gotta be so thorough?” Dominique balks, crossing her arms.

 

“I know names are a touchy subject.  I also know that it’s important - I’d say vital - for you to claim all the versions of you.  Young Dominique, the great speller. Eleven-year-old Dominique who was forced to hide your real self to survive.  The Dominique you’ve grown into. That girl is you,” Lena explains, patient. “Can you take that in?”

 

“I guess, yeah.  Can we go back to talking about Stef and Lena?” Dominique asks.

 

“Almost.  You’re doing great.  I just wanna say one more thing.  And that is that people evolve. They grow and change.  Sometimes because they have to. Sometimes because they choose it.  But no matter which you it is, you are worthy of praise. It’s safe to hear praise, if it comes from people you trust.”

 

“So, you think it was a smart move, giving them my key?” Dominique asks, shy.

 

“I do.  Very smart,” Lena tells Dominique seriously.

 

“Okay,” Dominique answers.

 

“Okay,” Lena echoes.  “So, once Francesca, Mariana and Levi were safely in your apartment, you stayed and you spoke to Stef and Lena.  What did you say? Do you wanna share?”

 

“Stef, I think...said she wanted to surprise them.  Acted like Jesus was being rude for being upset they basically broke in.  I said, ‘What makes you think any of your kids like surprises, ‘cause they don’t,’ or something.”

 

“How’d you feel then?” Lena asks.

 

“I was mad,” Dominique admits.

 

“Okay.  Let me ask you something.  Did it feel safe being mad?” Lena wonders.

 

Dominique squints.  “I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

 

“So...would you say...you felt more scared-mad?  Or secure-mad?” Lena coaches.

 

“I felt like somebody should be mad about it.  Somebody should stand up for their kids.” Dominique shares.

 

“This is good.  Okay, so you felt your anger was justified.  That’s important. Now, this is the question: Did you feel safe expressing that anger?  Or did you feel afraid?”

 

“I felt terrified…” Dominique admits.  “But I couldn’t hold it in…”

 

“That does sound frustrating.  Maybe a little overwhelming,” Lena adds.  “How did Stef and Lena respond, or did they at all?”

 

“Lena just said my name.  Like patronizing me,” Dominique shares, bristling.

 

“How did you feel then?” Lena wonders.

 

“Annoyed, because I wanted to keep being mad, but she said my name so...it kinda helped?  I didn’t want them helping me, knowing how they treat my friends, you know?”

 

“You felt like you might be betraying your friends if they knew Lena saying your name was helpful?” Lena asks.

 

“I mean...not quite?  It’s just irritating. I just wanted her to leave.”

 

“And did they?” Lena questions.

 

“Jesus asked me to go find you or Val.  He said he wasn’t ordering me, and that helped a lot.  I think it’s a big part of the reason I can...feel my feelings about them coming in his space...and I’m not here feeling like I just got ordered by a man to do something specific.”

 

“That is definite progress.  It sounds like Jesus’s clear communication really helped you in that moment.”

 

“It did,” Dominique nods.  “Then I came back with Val.  They left. And then…” she shrugs.

 

“Okay.  Stay with what you’re feeling.  You left at some point to come and find me.  When was that? What was happening?” Lena says.

 

“Fran and Mariana were getting into it with each other…” Dominique shares.

 

“They were arguing?” Lena clarifies.

 

“Yelling at each other,” Dominique nods.  “And I just...don’t like yelling. A lot of the girls used to get…  Well, nothing good happened when yelling started. I’ll put it like that,” Dominique exhales a shaky breath.

 

“That makes a lot of sense,” Lena reassures.  “You’ve had a lot going on tonight.”

 

Dominique nods.  

 

“So, I want you to self-care.  Lower that stress any way you can that’s healthy.  If your friends need to stay, maybe introduce the possibility of splitting into pairs, everybody having their own space right now.  It’s important, in these times, to remember that you have your own space and that you have a right to it.”

 

“Thanks, Lena,” Dominique says.

 

“You’re welcome. What are you gonna do?” she double checks.

 

“Self-care,” Dominique repeats.  

 

“In the form of?” Lena quizzes.

 

“Treating myself gently.” Dominique answers.

 

“And what else do you have a right to?” Lena asks.

 

“My own space.  Boundaries. ...And my own grief…  I don’t have to compare it,” Dominique raises her chin a little.  Owning this. Finally.

 

“No, you do not,” Lena blinks back tears.  “You’re really taking such great steps tonight.  I’m like a proud auntie over here.”

 

“I already got Auntie Roz, but you can be another one,” Dominique smiles a little.

 

“So proud,” Lena gushes.

 

“Okay,” Dominique nods, and closes the door behind her.

 

\--

 

It feels like the longest time in the history of the world, just feeling all grief and crap that Dominique usually buries, in the office with Lena.  But eventually, she’s back at her place, in the costume room chair, with Francesca.

 

“How you doin’, babe?” Dominique asks, rocking her a little.

 

“How  _ you _ doin’, babe?” Fran asks back.

 

“I am doing...okay,” Dominique decides.

 

“You look like you were crying,” Fran points out, just leaning against her.

 

“Well, crying’s okay,” Dominique reassures.

 

“I cried, too,” Fran shares.

 

“Yeah?” Dominique asks.

 

“Me and Mariana had a fight.  Because I didn’t listen to her.  But I was so hyper, I didn’t even know I wasn’t listening to her.”

 

“Stuck on high again?” Dominique guesses.

 

“Yeah.  Now I understand why you guys say I shouldn’t have coffee,” Fran admits.  Quieter, she goes on: “The thing happened to me. You know, like what happened to you?  At the cabin? When Levi’s - I mean - Pearl’s mom came to the door and we were all in the one bedroom together?”

 

The memory’s there, as if it happened yesterday.  “I remember.”

 

“Were you so embarrassed?” Francesca asks.

 

“Are  _ you _ ?” Dominique asks.

 

“Yes,” Fran admits.  “That happened sometimes at home, you know?  And it’s just…”

 

“What happens at home?” Dominique asks, tuning in even more.

 

“Well, like…  I can’t hold it?  Or I  _ can _ .  I just can’t move, too.  Because my leg is stuck?” Fran tries to explain.

 

“So holding it makes it difficult to walk?” Dominique asks, to be sure she understands.

 

“Because then Righty gets all tight, yeah,” Fran nods.  “Anyway, Stef and Lena… They yell at me. For wrecking their carpet and stuff.  For the fact that I know better. And I do. But I can’t help it sometimes. So I just feel like melting into the floor.”

 

Dominique holds her a little tighter.  “I understand. But as cliche as it sounds?  Accidents happen. I don’t have CP...but trauma...or a lot of stress...or fear...can make that kind of thing happen, too.”

 

“I didn’t make fun of you,” Fran remembers.

 

“No.  Did we make fun of you?” Dominique checks.

 

“No, but Stef and Lena do.  And also, it was all over Levi.  And it’s like, so much worse to pee on a person…”

 

“I can imagine it is,” Dominique nods.  “But does Levi understand? That you didn’t mean it?”

 

“He says he does, yeah,” Fran nods.

 

“Then believe him, babe,” Dominique says, kissing the top of Fran’s head.

 

“Okay,” Fran sighs.  “Hey, where were you this whole time?”

 

“I was talking to Lena.  My Lena, from here,” Dominique clarifies.

 

“I’m so jealous that you have a person and Jesus has a person,” Fran says.

 

“Yeah?  ‘Cause you want a person?” Dominique asks.

 

“I want you to be my person,” Francesca admits, threading their fingers together.

 

“Babe, I’m always gonna be your person,” Dominique promises.

 

She can feel it when Francesca relaxes against her.

 

The door is closed.  They’re two-by-two. The self-caring and the boundaries have begun.

 

Dominique hopes Lena’s still proud.


	124. Que Viva La Vida

Jesus manages to resist showering by wiping up all the water Francesca left behind on every possible surface.  By washing his face a couple times, scrubbing intensely. Because his body tends to absorb pizza, even if he doesn’t take a single bite.

 

“Everything okay?” Pearl calls, still seated on the couch.  By now, Fran and Dom are in the costume room and…

 

“Oh, shit,” Jesus says.  He freezes for a second.

 

“Jesus?” Pearl asks.  “I can come over there, if you need me.”

 

Shaking his head, Jesus walks over to her and pulls a folding chair over to sit across from her.

 

“I just totally spaced on where I was…” he admits.  “Just wiped up in there. Washed  _ my face _ in there...thinking it was mine…”

 

“I’m sure Dominique won’t mind,” Pearl says.

 

“Yeah, well I’m not.  Our trust is shaky right now, Pearl,” Jesus points out.  

 

“I know,” she nods.

 

“Listen, I’m sorry.  I just...it’s really messed up when that happens.  I didn’t realize I was that out of it…”

 

“It sounds really disconcerting,” Pearl offers, sympathetic.  “You didn’t notice any of the accents in there as belonging to her?”

 

“No...I mean...I just...went in there thinking it was mine and I had to wipe up before somebody slipped, you know?” Jesus shakes his head again.  “I’m hardly ever in here. What the hell is my problem?”

 

“I’d hardly call being considerate of other people’s safety a problem, Jesus…” Pearl points out.

 

“Yeah, but if some dude came in and started picking up your bathroom and using your stuff without asking...wouldn’t that kinda freak you out?” Jesus presses.

 

“It might.  But you’re not just  _ some dude _ , Jesus,” Pearl insists.  “You’re our friend. You’re family.”

 

“Right, but I still need to be accountable to Dominique about this.  It’s the only way our trust has a chance in hell of staying intact.”

 

He gets up and walks to the costume room and knocks on the door.  “Hey, Dominique? It’s Jesus. I need to tell you something. Is that cool?” he asks and waits for her to come to the door.

 

“Hi.  What is it?” Francesca asks, at the door.

 

“Can I talk to Dominique, please?” he asks again.

 

“She doesn’t wanna answer the door right now, but she said I could and she can hear you so…” Fran trails off.

 

“Hey, Dominique?” he says, noticing her standing by the window, staring out.  “I’m really sorry. I spaced out totally and I...wiped up a ton of water in your bathroom.”

 

“Oops…  Sorry…” Fran apologizes.

 

“That’s okay, buddy.  I know it’s not easy for you to do that, and I know it wasn’t on purpose,” Jesus tells Fran.  “Anyway,” Jesus pitches his voice a little louder. “Dominique, I, uh...also used a washcloth and washed my face in there.  I was all the way out before I realized… How do you want me to handle it? I can take it with me. Wash it and return it?”

 

“Jesus, it’s fine.   It’s a washcloth. I’ll take care of it,” Dominique says.

 

“Are you sure, though?  I don’t mind washing and returning it,” Jesus insists.

 

“But you hate laundry,” Fran whispers.

 

“Shush, please,” Jesus says, putting an arm around Francesca.  “I’m getting better at it.”

 

“Actually…” Dominique says, turning from the window.  “Probably wouldn’t be a bad idea. Thanks for letting me know.”

 

“Yeah, no problem.  I know we’ve been pretty trigger-heavy around here, and I just...didn’t wanna make it worse.”

 

“Appreciate it,” Dominique says, nodding.

 

“Okay, bye, buddy,” Fran says, closing the door.

 

“Bye, buddy,” Jesus says back.

 

He’s exhaling a massive breath, sitting down across from Pearl again.  “I kinda can’t believe I just did that. Considering what just happened.”

 

“What just happened was your mothers ambushing you.  You didn’t ambush Dominique. Certainly not on purpose.  And it does sound like you guys talked it out and came to an understanding.”

 

“We did...it’s just...so shaky right now,” Jesus admits.  “And did you hear how Stef was like, to me, ‘ _ I know how you threatened Carla _ ,’ or whatever?” 

 

“It figures they’d be in touch…” Pearl comments.  “Are you okay?”

 

“Seriously, everybody else in my freaking life knows not to bring me pizza, ever.  Especially not carryout. Especially not Dominos. But they act like it’s some new thing I just invented to make their lives hard.”

 

“They don’t care enough to listen to you,” Pearl says, matter of fact.

 

“No, they don’t…  I just...hate this?  Like, I hate this hardcore, Pearl.  Who just...walks into someone’s home like that?  And I know I advised you and Levi to change the locks but I don’t know the first thing about it, living in an apartment.”

 

“Val knows you’re basically estranged?” Pearl asked.

 

“She does,” Jesus confirms.

 

“That’s something.  Unfortunately, I don’t have much more insight into this kind of thing.  But I can be here. Listen. Rant. Whatever.”

 

“Did you feel...totally violated...when she did it to you?” Jesus asks.

 

“I did,” Pearl nods. “It wasn’t good.  The only thing that helped was having you guys there.”

 

“Yeah.  I mean, if it had to happen--”

 

“--which, it did not,” Pearl interjects.

 

“Then, I’m glad you’re here.  I mean, I’m not glad it apparently freaked out Levi.  Not to mention everybody else… How are you doing?” Jesus checks.

 

“Me?” Pearl asks.  “Oh, this is my resting state.  Feels completely natural. Honestly, speaking of things that are disconcerting…  By the way, I opened your windows, to kind of air your place out. But Levi’s been there since.  Just in case the idea of open windows makes you anxious.”

 

“How’d you guess?” he asks.

 

“I remember your routine with locking everything up at night.  Up north,” Pearl passes along.

 

“Right,” Jesus nods.  “I just...don’t know how I’m ever gonna trust them again.  Honestly. I mean, my trust in them pretty much vanished when Mariana’s accident happened and I saw how they treated her.  Even before then. But now, with everything they’ve done to both Fran and Mari...and just...coming over uninvited like this?  Like how can I ever recover this?”

 

“Who says you should?” Pearl asks, sincere.

 

“I mean, even if they learn a million things at the workshop and how to treat Fran and Mari...I just don’t…  Wait. What?” Jesus asks. “My brain just now caught up with what you said...and..like... _ shouldn’t _ kids trust their parents?”

 

“Ideally,” Pearl nods.  “But Jesus, you and I both know that trusting our parents isn’t always the best - or the safest - course of action.”

 

“But couldn’t they change?” Jesus asks, desperate.  “I mean...they weren’t always like this… When Stef met us…  I mean, she was nice then.”

 

“What did she do that was nice?” Pearl wonders, curious.

 

“Well, she had candy…  She let us have some. And she let us go to her house,” Jesus remembers.  “And they took us back in after everything else with Ana happened, so we didn’t have to go with strangers.  Even though we were way more messed up by then…”

 

“The candy, I’ll give you,” Pearl concedes.  “Stef didn’t have to give it to you and Mariana.  But she did. A cynical part of me wonders, though, if she didn’t give it to you both to help earn your trust.  Knowing that she wanted to take you in.”

 

“That makes this creepy as hell on a whole other don’t-take-candy-from-strangers level.  Also, she  _ was  _ a cop,” Jesus says, considering the memory.  “Mariana and I were scared of cops. But the candy made us trust her.  She didn’t have to take us in, though.”

 

“No, she didn’t.  But as adults, she and Lena made that choice, and once they made it, they were your parents.  So what all you described? That’s parent stuff.”

 

“Just…  It’s hard as hell not to feel indebted to them.  You know? And I’m sorry I keep reprocessing the same stuff with you...if you’re bored or whatever…”

 

“Hey, you’re not boring.  Your life isn’t boring. And you needing to reprocess your adoption trauma isn’t boring either.”

 

“Is it that?  Adoption trauma?” Jesus asks, surprised.

 

Pearl shrugs.  “Well, I have a very small frame of reference for a good parent.  But from what I do recall...the good ones don’t make their kids feel guilty for essentials.”

 

“They didn’t,” Jesus denies.

 

“Jesus, I was just at your house a few days ago?  And I watched them guilt you and Mariana by saying ‘after all we’ve done for you…’  I watched them tell Val that she only prioritizes your safety because she’s being paid to.  That’s not love…” Pearl points out.

 

“I know…  It’s just…  If I didn’t have them…  I wouldn’t have had anywhere to come back to.  I wouldn’t know Francesca. It’s all combined,” Jesus admits, shaking his head.  “The money thing? Just kinda confirms what I suspected all along.”

 

“They were getting paid to care for you?” Pearl asks.

 

“Well...no.  But they stopped everything like...right around the time I met you.  And all pretense of care and concern for my trauma just kind of vanished once I hit eighteen.  Even though they said I could live with them as long as I wanted,” Jesus shares.

 

“I bet they did.  And I’m not saying there aren’t positive things - and people - that have come out of you and Mariana living with them.  There absolutely are. And it’s okay to acknowledge that, I think. My father - mine and Levi’s - I should say? He was a great dad to Levi.  And he was a great dad to me...until he wasn’t. Parents are fallible just like every other human being. And I’m not equating our situations.  I’m not saying that what Stef and Lena did is anything you should forgive and let go of. I’m just saying humans have layers. No one is all good, all the time.”

 

“I mean, by that logic, they’re not all bad either, all the time.  So, should I forgive them? To get those good times back?”

 

“Is the damage they’d cause you worth it in the long run?  For those moments of goodness? Because I have loads of experience with a mother like both of yours?  And for years I did try to make it work. I believed everyone who told me, ‘ _ But she’s your mother!  You only get one mother!  She’s family! _ ’ But being a mother isn’t a free pass to do whatever you want to your child.  It just isn’t. You and the Avoiders have taught me that actual family doesn’t hurt each other.  Not on purpose.”

 

Jesus sighs.  “I know. I mean...most of the time I do…  It’s just...pizza. Sounds like I’m making excuses...but I feel like it literally messes with my brain.”

 

“Well, trauma definitely does that, and if pizza’s connected to some part of your trauma - which it is - then that makes a lot of sense.  And I’m happy to talk to you for as long as you need.”

 

“Even about stuff we’ve already discussed?” he asks.

 

“It can take a long time to fully process things.  Especially trauma. And you have plenty of it. All throughout your life.  It makes sense that you’d need a lot of opportunities to discuss it, and figure out how you feel,” Pearl offers.

 

“Especially with triggers,” he says.  “Just sucks that I don’t think I’m gonna be able to really cut any ties with them until Fran’s out of there.  Which means I need to figure out boundaries or something for the foreseeable future.”

 

“Sounds like a wise idea,” Pearl agrees.

 

“Hey, you know, there was this moment earlier?  Where I was thinking something to myself and I realized it was wrong?”

 

“Oh, yeah?” Pearl asks.

 

“And, I don’t know…  Usually, it’d be a thing where He’d get in my head about it.  Call me names. Have me feeling terrible for an honest mistake.”

 

“What did happen?” Pearl asks, curious.

 

“I was just like,  _ ‘No, dude, it’s not like that.  It’s like this.’ _   No name-calling.  No spiraling. It was small, but I don’t know.  It felt like a major moment, kind of,” Jesus shares.

 

“Wow,” Pearl smiles.  “I love hearing that, Jesus.”

 

“Seriously?” he asks.  “It’s not like, ‘ _ Oh, big deal _ ?’

 

“It’s more like huge deal.  Massive deal. Amazing deal,” Pearl enthuses.

 

“Okay, okay,” Jesus laughs.

 

“No, but I’m proud of you.  Very proud,” Pearl tells Jesus honestly.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“I mean, there’ll be bumps in the road, definitely.  But we’re here. And now you know that if you really need us, we can make it work.  We can come through for you,” Pearl says.

 

“Oh, by the way…” Jesus says, reaching into his pocket and taking out a Post-It.

 

“What’s this?” she asks, taking it.

 

“Website with apartment info.  Applications, everything you’ll need.  Got it from Val. So, someday…” Jesus ventures, grinning.

 

“This is actually happening…  I mean, it’s the first step, but...I’m actually considering this.  I was agoraphobic before I met you all. That’s not an exaggeration.”

 

“I know.  And you were my role model anyway.  Then and now.”

 

Pearl smiles.  “I’m just saying, do you get how huge this is?”

 

“Massively huge and amazing,” Jesus nods, echoing her earlier words.  “I’m proud of you, too.”

 

“Thanks.  I needed to hear that,” Pearl says. 


	125. Numb

Nobody’s come back over to Jesus’s yet, and it’s just as well.

 

Mariana needs to talk to Levi.  He hasn’t been okay since last night (and before that, if she’s honest.)  And if she lets him, Levi will just keep going in survival mode. Being as good as he can, doing and saying all the right things, so maybe this time, he won’t be left in the care of someone dangerous.

 

It makes sense.  Mariana had done it, too, or a version of it.  In foster care, she and Jesus always tried their best to be as good as they could be so they could be safe.  Usually, it only lasted a couple of weeks, before one of them couldn’t maintain anymore. But as kids, who has that kind of self-control?

 

“I just...I’m--I’m not positive exactly what to tell Jesus on this?” Levi ventures.  Mariana catches the stutter, however slight.

 

“On what?” she asks.

 

“They moved a bunch of stuff around.  Used your coffee cups. The twin ones.  Threw his Sprite away. I bought a new one, and put everything back pretty much how he had it but…God, they even moved the soap in the bathroom, Mari!  Like, from where it was on the right over to the left? What’s the point of that? It feels like a mind game...I--I mean, I just-- I can’t with that,” Levi manages.

 

“Why are you…” Mariana starts.  “I mean,  _ where _ are you right now?”

 

“Right here.  I’m with you,” he says, confused at why she’s asking.

 

“No, I mean…  You’re cleaning.  Fixing things. Do you notice that?” Mariana checks.

 

“What’s wrong with that?” Levi asks, honest.

 

“Nothing, just...you seem a little desperate,” Mariana tries to explain.  “And I know we were all just triggered, so...maybe it’s that?”

 

“Maybe,” Levi shrugs.  “But what’s wrong with looking out for each other?” 

 

“Levi, it’s not…  Nothing is wrong with looking out for each other, but...it seems like you’re trying...to like...invert yourself.”

 

“I’m not,” he denies.

 

“Coffee ice cream?” she asks, remembering his choice earlier tonight.  “You don’t even like coffee. You’ve said. Your dad put chocolate in it.  You think it’s bitter.”

 

“So?  It’s not bitter in ice cream.  It’s balanced,” Levi insists.

 

“Levi.  Please,” Mariana says.  “I already like you. I don’t want you eating things you hate for me.  Why are you doing this? Trying to change yourself? Do all the things right?”

 

“Because…” Levi answers, helpless.

 

“Can you sit?” she asks, and he finally does.  Finally stops closing windows and wiping down surfaces and checking and rechecking things.  “Can I hold your hand?”

 

He nods.

 

“I did this, too, you know?” she asks.  “Tried to be the best. Smartest. Help the most.  So, whoever would wanna keep us. But we want you already.”

 

“But I pissed him off,” Levi says, soft.

 

“Who?” Mariana wonders.

 

“Jesus,” Levi mutters.  “This morning. I knew about the thing and I didn’t tell him.”

 

“I thought…  Didn’t you work through that?  Didn’t he apologize?” Mariana asks.

 

“He did,” Levi nods.  “But then…”

 

“But then?” Mariana asks.

 

“He had this--this--this--” Levi says, staring at the floor.

 

“This what?” Mariana asks.

 

“And there was the thing with Jaimie, and food and whatever…” Levi continues.

 

“Slow down…” Mariana encourages.  “You were saying something? About Jesus?  He had this…”

 

“I--  I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell y’all…” Levi admits.

 

“What do you mean?” Mariana asks confused.  “We don’t do secrets.”

 

“Okay.  Like...the railing?  You know about that?” Levi asks.

 

“Oh, yeah.  Wait. Did he ask you?  He  _ did _ , right?  He didn’t just like, say ‘ _ We’re doing this _ ?’”

 

“No, but...I…” Levi starts.  His hand flexes in hers.

 

Mariana lets go, but keeps her hand near his, in case he still does want contact.

 

He does.  And he closes his hand around hers again.  “I just…”

 

“I’m not mad, okay?” she offers.  “I’m not going anywhere. There’s time.”

 

“I _ feel  _ pressured,” Levi admits.

 

“With the railing, you do?” she asks.

 

Levi nods.

 

“How?” Mariana wonders.

 

“Like...Jesus was mad.  I better stay on his good side, you know?” Levi admits, soft.  “But I just...don’t wanna run into Stef and Lena...especially not now.  If they see what we did and they’re pissed about it? I know what they’re capable of.  I’ve been alone with Carla. Not to mention you and Jesus and Fran have all told us some of what they’ve done to you guys…”

 

“So, you feel rushed?” Mariana guesses.

 

“I feel like I’m being set up,” Levi says, at his usual volume, turning to look at her finally.

 

“You think...what?  That Jesus would have you help with this so that you could get caught….by Moms...as punishment?” Mariana tries to follow Levi’s logic.

 

“I guess?” Levi shrugs.  “If Jesus was mad enough, wouldn’t he?”

 

Mariana pauses.  Takes a breath and tries to gather her own thoughts.  Her words. “This...sounds like trauma,” she tells him honestly.

 

“I’m not just making it up, Mari,” Levi says, that edge of desperation back in his voice.

 

“I know.  That’s not what I mean,” she says and waits for him to take a breath.

 

He does.

 

“I mean, you’ve mentioned feeling like your dad left you...with her...for extra time...because he knew you made that mess.  Right?” Mariana asks.

 

“Yeah.  I mean, I  _ have _ always thought that,” Levi admits.

 

“Because, you were a kid, and kids are pretty...I don’t mean this like it’s gonna sound...but...self-absorbed?” Mariana tries and cringes.

 

“You mean, like egocentric?  We blame ourselves for things that aren’t our fault?” Levi asks.

 

“Right,” she nods.  “So, even though there was probably another reason your dad was late…”

 

“There was,” Levi fills in.

 

“Your mind filled in the gap however it could.  Or, maybe it was something she told you that you blocked out.  It’s hard to know for sure,” Mariana offers.

 

“Okay.” Levi nods.

 

“Okay,” Mariana echoes.  “So...this right now with the railing?”

 

“Yeah?” Levi asks.

 

“This is not a setup,” Mariana clarifies.  “If you don’t wanna go, you don’t have to go.  If you do wanna go, be sure Jesus knows how you feel, and that...I don’t know...you’re probably gonna wanna...stay together?”

 

“Yeah,” Levi agrees.

 

“So, you don’t feel left behind in a dangerous situation.  Want anymore advice or no?” Mariana checks.

 

“If you have it, yeah.” Levi nods.

 

“Pee before you go?”  Mariana ventures, a little nervous.  “I know the bathroom’s like, touchy for you, so just...try to avoid it when you’re there maybe?”

 

“Ooh, that is good advice,” Levi says, breathing a sigh of relief.  

 

“And maybe talk to him?  Let Jesus know how you feel about this?  That it’s not that you don’t wanna help… It’s trauma.  And you’re worried that he could be upset. And being at someone’s house with an upset-person might mimic your trauma.”

 

“It would, yeah,” Levi agrees.

 

“You know how, sometimes, with me, I need you to be really explicit about what you mean?”

 

“I do,” Levi nods.  

 

“You can be that same way with Jesus.  It’ll help him know what you’re dealing with.  This is if you even wanna go at all…” Mariana reassures.  “No pressure.”

 

“I just...feel…” he manages, his voice thick.  “Like I did then. Seeing them. I just don’t wanna see them…” he says, almost begging her.

 

“I don’t want you to, either,” Mariana answers.  “Even if it means whatever about the railing.”

 

Levi glances up, sharply.  “What? No. Not whatever about the railing.  Y’all need that.”

 

“But I don’t want you pushing past your limits to make sure we have it,” Mariana explains.  “I wish their thing were earlier, so you could go there and know they wouldn’t be around.”

 

“That’d be amazing,” Levi nods.  “Thank you...you know...for taking time?  Checking in with me?”

 

“Yeah.  Of course,” Mariana agrees, pressing his hand to her cheek.  She can finally feel it again.

 

\--

 

“How are you doing?  With Fran? With your moms?” he asks.

 

It finally feels like he’s found his feet under him again.  Like he can legitimately check in with Mariana without it being driven by some old trauma instinct.  He’s glad for her insight. For her care. But he’s still glad to be able to actually check in with Mariana, too.

 

She needs support.  Levi’s pretty sure he’s still the only one she’s trusted with the full scope of that terrible website Stef and Lena made.  The one she’s trusted to tell things she might not have told anybody else yet. And Levi takes that seriously. He’s not about to assume she’s fine just because she’s been perfecting that mask since she was a toddler.  Levi knows how to see beneath it.

 

Because he spent years of his life wearing the same mask.

 

Mariana shrugs.  “I’m glad Fran understands, but I wish...I just wouldn’t…but I know if they were here, they’d just be like, ‘ _ That’s why you need therapy _ .’”

 

“Can I back up?” Levi asks.  “The conversation? I got that you’re glad Fran understands, but you wish.  What do you wish?”

 

“That I wouldn’t,” Mariana repeats.

 

“You wish you wouldn’t what?” Levi prompts, patient.

 

“Hurt people,” Mariana insists.

 

“Mariana, you didn’t do it on purpose,” Levi reminds.

 

“But I still hurt her,” Mariana says.

 

“Yes,” Levi agrees.  “But you were saying that they’d blame it on you not being in therapy or something?” he cringes.

 

“They would,” she nods.  “My face...and my hands… I couldn’t talk…” she manages.

 

“When you saw them,” Levi fills in.  

 

Mariana nods.

 

“I’m so sorry.  You don’t need that kind of panic response on top of everything else…” Levi says, sympathetic.  “How  _ is  _ your heart?” he asks again.

 

“I don’t know,” Mariana starts.  “I don’t know, like, how much more it can take?”

 

“Sounds like you’re stressed.  Worn down. Need a break,” Levi tries.

 

“I mean, to put it lightly,” Mariana agrees.  “I just…” Tears spring to her eyes. “They moved the soap…” she recalls.

 

“They did, yeah.  But it’s back. To where Jesus had it, okay, I promise,” Levi reassures.

 

“No.  I mean...it wasn’t just a mind game, Levi…  It was for me,” Mariana admits.

 

Levi cocks his head slightly.

 

“Remember the card game?” she asks.  “Fran telling you about the piles? Stuff on the left?”

 

“Right,” he nods.  “I mean, yeah, I remember that.  So, you’re thinking that...Stef or Lena moved the soap to the left because...to mess with you?”

 

“Because everything is fucking therapy, Levi…” Mariana exclaims, tears rolling.  “I can’t just...live somewhere. Where people whatever for me. Even though they do it in their house.  I have to work...for  _ every damn thing _ !”

 

Levi’s surprised when Mariana leans against him.  Asks if he can put his arms around her and she nods.  “I’m sorry. So sorry they did that. I’m sorry I didn’t understand what it meant.”

 

Then, he just lets her lean against him, because chances are, she doesn’t get to do this much.  Let her guard down. Be weak. Be rightfully upset about unfair and straight up abusive treatment.

 

“You deserve to have things so they work for you,” Levi tells her.  “They had no right to do that.”

 

“I’m so scared, Levi…” Mariana whispers and he can feel her shaking slightly.

 

“Because they came?” he asks.

 

She nods.  “And because I can’t change.  They can. But what if...they don’t?”

 

Levi presses his lips together.  “Then...we’ll continue to be here for you as much as we can.  We’ll move over here when we can. We’ll get you out. And we’ll get Fran out.  It won’t be this bad all the time, okay?” he asks, kissing her head when she nods consent.

 

“I want to believe you,” Mariana manages.  “I do… It just…”

 

“If they don’t change?” Levi asks.  “You’ll have us,” he pauses. “And if they do?  You’ll still have us. You’re stuck with us. Forever.”

 

“Thank you,” she manages.

 

“You’re so welcome,” Levi says, blinking back tears of his own.  “Seriously. They have no idea how lucky they are.”


	126. Love Me or Leave Me

Val’s back in the office when Jesus Adams Foster shows up at the door a second time in just under an hour.

 

They can have favorite clients, but can’t allow the care they give to reflect that favoritism in any way.  No preferential treatment. But, it’s no secret that Val and Jesus get along really well. And that she genuinely likes getting to spend time with him.  

 

“Hey,” she greets him - concerned, but not surprised - to see him again so soon.  Opening the door wider, Val invites him inside, biting back the impulse she has to ask about the apartment info he’d gathered for Pearl and Levi.

 

_ Just wait, Val. _

 

But patience has never been her strong suit.  It’s been a skill. Hard-earned. And it’s slippery.  But being on staff at Gateway means she must get a grip on her own patience.  Not jump to conclusions. Not do so many things that have harmed her in the past.

 

Jesus comes in, with Dudley in tow.  Closes the door behind them. Takes a chair.

 

“Something on your mind?” Val asks, watching him hunch forward in the chair.  He’s tall. His brown hair is starting to curl. It hangs almost into his eyes.  It’s hard to find the little kid she’d seen pictures of just after getting her degree in social work.

 

“Yeah...um…  What Lena said...my mom…” Jesus clarifies, so Val won’t assume her coworker, who’s been matched with Dominique Williams for the past year.  “ _ Do _ you think that?” 

 

“I’m gonna need more information,” Val tells Jesus calmly.  “I hear that you’re wondering if I agree with Lena on something?  But I need to know what, exactly, so I can give you an accurate answer.”

 

“She said…” Jesus pauses, and takes a breath.  “That if you weren’t being paid to care about my safety, that you  _ wouldn’t _ , basically.  That you’d get impatient prioritizing me.”

 

Val lets the silence grow, in case Jesus has more to say.

 

“You didn’t say anything back, so I just figured…” Jesus shrugs.  “It’s fine if you do agree with her. I mean, it is your job. I can’t be mad at you for making a living,” Jesus insists, looking even more worried.

 

“Okay.  Let’s pause, so I can catch up with some things,” Val suggests.  “First, yes, this is my job. I am getting paid for it. That’s never been a secret.  But Lena was wrong to insinuate you’re a burden to me. I’m like...one of those cool chefs you love watching on The Cooking Channel, right?  Like Emeril!”

 

“Who?” Jesus asks.

 

“Okay, I guess, bad example.  My point is, those people love what they do.  They’re not out there cooking and complaining about their customers.  They’re happy to make food for them, right? I love helping people. I love talking to people.  I love being there for people. I love it so much that I went to school to learn to do what I love, so I could do it all the time.”

 

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” Jesus persists.  He’s quietly intense, the way he so often is.

 

“What do you need to know?  Specifically?” Val asks.

 

“If you weren’t getting paid for this - to help me and whatever - if I was just some guy out in the world who maybe needed a hand?  Would you give a shit?”

 

Val’s not altogether surprised Jesus is asking this, given what she knows about his parents.  (The real stuff, not the tongue-baths they get on social media and in the news.) Still, she wouldn’t be doing her job as Jesus’s support person if she didn’t reassure him.

 

“Contrary to what Lena says…” Val begins slowly.  “They can’t pay me to care. The money makes it possible for me to keep doing what I love and keep a roof over my head simultaneously.”

 

“Right, but it doesn’t hurt, either…” Jesus ventures, wincing.

 

“Listen…  Do I wish there were a way I could volunteer and do what I do for free?  Absolutely. I understand that a lot of survivors of trauma grow up with the mentality that we’re burdens, am I right?”

 

Jesus squints.  No doubt, he heard how casually Val slipped that ‘ _ we _ ’ into conversation.  “I mean, yeah. It’s pretty much all I heard before I moved in here...”

 

“Right, but I’m not just some Debbie-Do-Gooder here.  I do this because I get it. Deep-in-my-soul get it. And yes.  The fact that there’s money involved does make it murky.”

 

“But you’ve gotta live somewhere,” Jesus allows.

 

“Right.  For the record?  If I saw you out on my day off?  And you looked like you needed help?  Wildebeests couldn’t keep me away,” Val says.  

 

Jesus smiles, just a little (a victory on a night like this, so rife with triggers.)

 

“I wouldn’t walk the other way because I wasn’t being paid.  That’s heartless,” Val tells him.

 

“So..your patience wouldn’t, like, wear thin?” he asks.

 

“My patience would be the same as it always is.  Assuming I don’t have a personal thing going on or something.  Which is possible. Seeing as I am a human,” Val allows.

 

“Right,” Jesus nods.  “I don’t know. It just...kinda reminded me of how...sometimes...like...where we’d live?  When we were in foster care? It was obvious they did it for the money. And when we were too much trouble?  They weren’t exactly shy about telling us…”

 

“What did they tell you?  Do you wanna share?” Val asks.

 

“ _ No amount of money is worth this… _ ” Jesus says, like he’s been mulling it over for the past hour or so.

 

“How old were you when you heard that?” Val wonders.

 

“Probably four or five?  That’s when we moved the most times,” Jesus shares.

 

“It makes sense that those words stuck with you.  Especially hearing what Lena said tonight. But money doesn’t make me want to help you, Jesus.  You’re not too much for me.”

 

Jesus is quiet, taking all this in.  Then: “Mama used to say that. I think.  It didn’t used to be true for her...but now...it seems like it is.”  Glancing up, Jesus pins her with another way-intense look. “Will  _ you _ ?  Change your mind?”

 

“Listen...it sounds like...as hard as your parents tried at some point...to be safe people?  It didn’t really take. And that’s because being a safe person is about constantly choosing to be that for someone else.  Being willing to see you, and your trauma, which is in you, simultaneously. Adjusting their lives and the way they do things in a way that put you and your safety first.”

 

“At some point, they stopped choosing...to be safe...not just for me, but for all of us,” Jesus muses.

 

“Right, and that can be a lot to take in.  Does it make sense?” Val checks. “Need to go over anything again?”

 

“No.  Just…” Jesus ventures.  “I kinda spaced out earlier?  I was at Dominique’s and I thought I was at my place.  It was a whole, like, few-minute process where I didn’t even think about it and then it was like, this scary as hell feeling where I--” 

 

Jesus isn’t even pausing for breath, so Val has to intervene here.

 

“Let’s back up,” she encourages.  “Knowing that you dissociated recently, I wanna remind you that I am Val Reminy, your awesome support staff at Gateway Apartments.”

 

Jesus laughs a little.  “I know.”

 

Val waits.

 

“And I’m Jesus.  I get it. I’m not out of it now,” he tells her.  But Val definitely caught the involuntary shiver that came when he said his name.

 

“So, you were telling me you spaced out earlier?” Val checks.

 

“Yeah,” Jesus answers.

 

“Where?” Val asks.

 

“Dominique’s bathroom.  I thought it was mine, and I--” Jesus plows ahead.

 

“Jesus.  I don’t have anywhere to be.  We have so much time. So you can slow down.  Tell me again where you were when you spaced out.  Just where you were.”

 

“Dominique’s bathroom...I--”  This time, Jesus catches himself.  Presses his lips together.

 

“Awesome.  Very good. You were in Dominique’s bathroom.  You said you thought it was yours. What happened to bring you back?  To let you know it wasn’t yours?” Val asks.

 

“I came out,” Jesus says, his anxiety easing a little.

 

Val nods, approving.  “You came out. What else do you need to tell me?  One thing at a time.”

 

“I did some stuff,” Jesus passes along vaguely.

 

“Yeah?  What kind of stuff?” Val wonders.

 

“Picked up towels. Clothes.  Wiped up water. And I, uh...washed my face.  I used a washcloth that wasn’t mine. I didn’t ask,” Jesus admits.

 

“Because you were dissociated,” Val clarifies.  “What happened when you realized?”

 

“Talked to Dominique.  Offered to wash it myself and bring it back.  The washcloth.” Jesus says.

 

“What did Dominique say to that?” Val wonders.

 

“She said it wouldn’t be a bad idea…” Jesus admits.  “I just...feel terrible.”

 

“Why is that?” Val asks, gentle.

 

“It’s like I was saying earlier?  How He used to just show up in my room?  I kinda did that to Dominique. And I don’t wanna ever do that.  I know how invasive it is,” Jesus manages.

 

“Okay.  So…” Val waits for Jesus to breathe and pet Dudley a while, so he can calm down.  When he seems more present, she says. “Your captor was being manipulative. And abusive.  And controlling. When He showed up in your room,” Val explains. “You were mentally checked out, due to stress.  That’s two wildly different scenarios.”

 

“But I feel...like  _ Him _ …” Jesus insists shuddering.

 

“Let’s try that sentence again.  Because I hear you trying to tell me how you feel.  But  _ like Him _ is not a feeling.  Is it?” Val challenges softly.

 

“No, but it’s accurate,” Jesus pushes back.

 

“Okay.  What’s under that?  When you say ‘ _ I feel like Him _ ’ what are you trying to say?”

 

Jesus shrugs.

 

“You felt  _ what _ when you realized you’d been in Dominique’s bathroom and used her washcloth?  Can you fill in that  _ what _ with a feeling?”

 

“Terror,” Jesus admits, staring at Dudley.  “I was so afraid.”

 

“You were so afraid,” Val echoes.  “Because you were dissociated and you thought you knew where you were, but it turns out you were somewhere else.  Because maybe you remembered that terror of seeing Him in your room, especially after seeing Stef and Lena in your apartment,” Val reviews.

 

“He used to tell me...they didn’t want me anymore,” Jesus shares, in almost a whisper.  “Lena saying that tonight? It kinda made me remember that. Feel it all over again. That fear.  And then that fear goes way back to when Mariana and I were babies and left alone. For like a day.  So...what she said was just...really loaded…and I just...I had to come and check. To see if you still wanted to do this or if you were done with me, too?”

 

Val can feel her heart wincing inside her chest but she keeps her expression steady and open as she returns Jesus’s eye contact.  “I am not done with you. I’m not being paid to care about you. We’re in this for as long as you feel safe with me as your person or until one of us dies.  My care for you is genuine.”

 

“Seriously?” Jesus checks again.  “You’re not just doing this because you saw me on the news and you wanted to get close to me?”

 

“I saw you on the news occasionally.  But I’m not and have never been obsessed with you or your situation.  I’m glad you’re here. Very glad. But I’m not here as your person with the intention to exploit you.”

 

“Well, people who have that intention don’t really come out and admit it…” Jesus points out.

 

“That is true.  I know you encountered a weirdo today, Jesus.  And you had untold amounts of stress besides. That made a lot of things feel up in the air.  But we’re solid. Okay?”

 

“We’re solid?” he repeats.

 

“Absolutely, we are,” Val says.

 

Jesus sits for a while longer, just petting Dudley and regarding Val.  She knows it takes him some time to internalize things, especially if his stress-level has been high.

 

“Did you always know you wanted to help people?” Jesus asks.

 

“I did, yeah,” Val nods.

 

“Did you always know you _ could _ ?” Jesus wonders.

 

“No,” Val scoffs, smiling.  “I was pretty much a disaster for a long time.  But I had enough people along the way, who cared about me.  And that care made it possible for me to help myself so that...eventually...I could help you.”

 

“I wanted to do that,” Jesus says, a little dreamily.

 

“What?” Val asks.

 

“Help people.  Like you are. I’ve wanted to do that, specifically for, like, the last couple years.  But I could never do what you do.”

 

“Well, who says you have to?” Val challenges gently.  “And who says you’re not helping people already? From right where you are?”


	127. Hearing

The Avoiders all seem to be rotating.  

 

All but Pearl, who stays put on Dominique’s couch, holding Cleo.  But so far? She’s spoken to Francesca, and then to Jesus. And once Jesus leaves to check in with Val again?  Dominique is back from wherever she’d stepped out to, and sitting on the couch with Pearl.

 

“How are you doing?” Pearl asks.

 

(She asks because there’s something new shining in Dominique’s eyes.  A new resolve. So, while she seems worn down she also seems stronger.)

 

“Where’s Fran?” Dominique wonders.

 

“Let’s see,” Pearl gets up and peers in the costume room.  No Fran. Then, she taps on Dominique’s closed door. Finds Fran up in Dom’s bed, headphones on, attention fixed on a cartoon on Mariana’s laptop.  “She’s deep into  _ She-Ra and the Princesses of Power  _ right now,” Pearl passes along.

 

“Okay,” Dominique nods.

 

“So...how are things?” Pearl checks again.

 

“Things are...changing.  Or maybe it’s me? Maybe I’m changing?” Dominique ventures.  “It just…” She pauses. Takes a breath. Starts again. Petting Roberta as she gets comfortable in Dominique’s lap.  “I don’t know.”

 

“Good changing?” Pearl asks.

 

“I think so…  It’s taken a long time...but I think I’m finally ready.  I’m starting to deal with my own stuff. Not shove it in the background, and put someone else’s first…” Dominique admits.

 

“It’s hard when trauma overlaps,” Pearl comments, hearing what Dominique isn’t saying.  Knowing that Dominique and Jesus share certain aspects of their trauma that no one else does.  And that this has, at times, been incredibly painful for Dominique. “But it’s good to hear you’re happy with your progress.”

 

“Yeah...I guess I am.  Jesus and I are finally really communicating.  And it’s been difficult. You know, just getting there?  But now that we are where we are? It’s so much better. Like, I didn’t know friendship could feel this good.” Dominique says.

 

Pearl nods.

 

“I mean...it definitely still feels tenuous.  Like, it could all fall apart at any second. But it’s also, kinda like I’m learning to balance.  To keep going forward?” Dominique cringes. “I’m sorry for the terrible analogy.”

 

“No, you are talking to the right person.  I’m the queen of awful puns, bad analogies, and just being generally uncool.  Ask Francesca,” Pearl passes along.

 

Dominique smiles.  This turns into her letting out a shaky breath.  “How are you just...fine?” she asks, incredulous.  “I was there, last April, when it was your mom, knocking on their grandpa’s cabin door.”

 

“That’s why I’m fine, I guess,” Pearl shrugs.  “I’m used to this. Plus, it’s so much easier being strong in the face of people who have never actually hurt you.”

 

“So, that’s why you and Jesus can do it for one another, but to stand up to your own parents…” Dominique ventures again.

 

“That’s a challenge,” Pearl admits.

 

“You weren’t afraid at all, though?  Because my heart’s still pounding…” Dominique shares.

 

“Oh, I’m not impervious to stress.  Or trauma. Obviously. As you said, you’ve seen me in April.”  Pearl pauses. More quietly, she adds, “Of course, I was afraid.  I’m just used to being that. Living life that way.”

 

Dominique wrinkles her nose at the thought.  Slowly, her face relaxes. “I felt fear like that, too.”

 

Pearl listens.

 

“When I was...gone…  You know how Jesus just had his day where he escaped and got back home?” Dominique shares, focused on petting Roberta.

 

“A couple days ago, yeah,” Pearl nods.

 

“Well, that’s my day in August?  Remember? Why I’m such a mess? And anyway...seeing them there tonight.  It reminded me of those moments. Face to face with real danger. Trying to get away.  Get safe.”

 

“So you’re used to living with it, too,” Pearl surmises.

 

Dominique nods.

 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Pearl apologizes.  “That tonight scared you that much.”

 

“We were talking tonight.  Me and my support person? And she was saying how it’s vital to claim all the versions of yourself or something.”

 

Pearl blinks.  “Wow. I don’t even know where to begin with that.  It sounds so daunting.”

 

“Right?” Dominique asks.  “I mean, I get the concept.  And like...the necessity I guess of being fully reintegrated into ourselves.  But it’s a lot. I don’t know if I’m ready to gather all those versions of me back up, you know?”

 

“Well, did she say it was necessary to do it all at once?” Pearl asks.

 

“No,” Dominique shakes her head.  “Just the super-high-achiever in me wants to accomplish everything the fastest and the best.”

 

“I get that,” Pearl nods.  “It makes taking our time with feelings and trauma particularly excruciating.”

 

“I hear that,” Dominique nods.

 

“Do you…?  I’m trying to do the thing where we ask each other if we’re in the place to hear heavy things before I actually unload on them.  Are you in the place to hear some of my realness?” Pearl tries, wishing this didn’t feel so viscerally uncomfortable.

 

“What kind of realness?” Dominique asks.

 

“The kind where I take a turn sharing my own feelings in more depth.  I know you’re dealing with a lot, though. So, it’s totally understandable, if not.”

 

“No, I’m okay with that.  Just wasn’t sure if I was about to be corrected on something,” Dominique admits.

 

“Are my teacher vibes _ that _ strong?” Pearl asks, cringing.  

 

“It is not.  It’s just when most people talk about realness, it means somebody’s about to have their ass handed to them,” Dominique clarifies.  “Wasn’t ready for that.”

 

“Ah.  I meant it as honesty,” Pearl restates.

 

“I wanna hear your honest feelings,” Dominique says.

 

“This may be crossing the line a bit.  I’m still not positive what’s mine and what isn’t in a situation.  Oversharing is kind of my jam. Gossip is the main way my family communicated,” Pearl admits.

 

“So...like I tell Fran.  You gotta strengthen that muscle.  If what you’re about to say might compromise someone else’s privacy, you gotta figure out a way to communicate it without that piece.”

 

“But I feel like the story loses something then,” Pearl says, insisting.

 

“Alright.  So, we need to talk about this,” Dominique scoots closer to Pearl, leaving Roberta asleep on the far end of the couch.  “What you’re about to tell me? That’s not just some story.”

 

Pearl nods.  “Correct,” she cringes.  “God, does every word out of my mouth make you feel like you’re about to fail a test?  I’m so sorry.” she apologizes. “When I’m nervous, I get really sure of myself.”

 

“Okay,” Dominique nods.  “You don’t have to, though.  You can be vulnerable. ...Lena just told me all this and I wanted to laugh in her face, so if you need to laugh, feel free.  I know how out there it sounds.”

 

“No,” Pearl shakes her head.  “I won’t laugh. I probably won’t break down in tears, but I won’t laugh…But you were saying?  It’s not just some story?”

 

“Right.  What you’re about to tell me isn’t that.  It’s not gossip. It’s something important you need to say about how you’re feeling.  Maybe how seeing Stef and Lena made you feel?”

 

Pearl nods.  “I just can’t think of a way to tell it, leaving that part out.  It has everything to do with how I’m feeling.”

 

“The other thing you could do is ask the person it has to do with if they’re cool with you sharing the piece that’s about them.” Dominique advises.

 

“Ah.  That’s good!  Okay, I’m going to text.  And...wow, that was fast. So I have consent.  But how do I ensure that sharing this isn’t me gossiping about a friend behind their back?”

 

Dominique raises an eyebrow.

 

“I’m sorry.  You didn’t agree to workshopping with me about how to appropriately share my feelings.” Pearl says.

 

“I’m okay with it if you are,” Dominique nods.  “And I think...an important part of the process is to keep the focus on you.  How you felt. The part that involves someone else? That’s just context.”

 

“Thank you.  Okay. Got it.  God, I’m a mess.  Jesus just gave me this Post-It with, like, official moving information and I’m all scattered.  Like, I forgot how to be a human.” Pearl shares. “Back to feeling like I just arrived on Earth and I’m all feelings-deficient.”

 

“That and probably seeing Stef and Lena,” Dominique adds knowingly.

 

“Good point,” Pearl agrees.  “Anyway. You left to go find Val and things got...heated between Jesus and Stef.  At one point she came at him, like she was going to hit him.”

 

“God,” Dominique breathes.  “Right there in the middle of the hallway.  She’s not even trying to be subtle anymore.”

 

“No!” Pearl agrees.  “Anyway, here’s me doing the thing, trying to keep the focus on myself and not on Stef and Jesus and gossip--”

 

“I’m gonna say the thing we all hate.  Slow down a little bit,” Dominique urges.  

 

Pearl sighs.  “You’re right, I do hate that.  But thanks.”

 

After a minute or so Dominique nods.  “If you wanna keep going…”

 

“So, I just stepped in front of Jesus,” Pearl shares.  “Heart’s pounding out of my chest. Because it really seemed like she might hit me for getting in the way.  She didn’t, but…” Pearl trails off. “It made me remember my mother doing it to me. And knowing that Stef’s hit Francesca...it means she’s probably done it to all of them.”

 

“Okay, but your lane isn’t guessing about which of those six kids has been hit by their parents, is it?” Dominique reminds.  “That sounds a lot like Carla and Grandma-Not-West’s Lane of Gossip…”

 

“No, you’re right,” Pearl nods.  

 

“It reminded you of being hit,” Dominique says.  “And that’s not comfortable. It’s why I had to leave when Mari and Fran started having it out with each other.”

 

“Is it?” Pearl asks, curious.  “But they wouldn’t hit each other.”

 

“My trauma didn’t care about that,” Dominique points out.  “It just knew,  _ If there’s yelling, we get the hell out _ .”

 

“If possible,” Pearl allows.  

 

“Wasn’t it, for you?” Dominique asks.

 

“No.  I wasn’t old enough to drive, and I was too scared to call for help.  I didn’t have friends. Not ones you hang out with outside of school.”

 

“It wasn’t always for me, either,” Dominique shares.  “So now it feels...a little...I don’t know. Like, it doesn’t take much to activate my flight response, you know?  I don’t have to actually witness anybody hitting another person to feel it. Just hear the yelling that precedes it.”

 

“Right.” Pearl says.  “That makes perfect sense to me.  Because by this point, your trauma knows better than to wait.”

 

Dominique nods.

 

“Have you heard of the fawn response to trauma?  We talked before, at the cabin, about fight or flight.  Jesus and Levi talked a bit about freeze. But I’ve read more in my free time the past few months.  Did you know there was actually a fourth response?” Pearl wonders.

 

“I did not,” Dominique says, intrigued.

 

“I think I have that,” Pearl admits, keeping to herself the feeling that Levi definitely exhibits fawning behavior in the face of trauma.  She noticed it when he ordered the ice cream with the coffee in it. Was relieved when he swapped with Francesca and didn’t actually eat it.  “When we can’t run or fight, and when freezing will only make things worse, we just go along. Or become exceedingly helpful.”

 

“Sounds like you might be in your trauma response right now…” Dominique suggests.  “Talking me through all this.”

 

“And Fran and Jesus, as well,” Pearl admits.

 

“We’re not gonna hurt you if you don’t go along, Pearl.  Or leave you if you’re not helpful enough,” Dominique reassures.

 

“So weird to think about,” Pearl laughs, blinking back tears.  “But thank you. For noticing.”

 

“Thanks for trusting me.  You’re gonna get back to feeling fully human.  Stick with us. We’ll help you,” Dominique reassures, surprising Pearl and reaching out to put an arm around her.

 

Pearl shuts her eyes and lets herself be held.

 

It’s the strangest feeling.


	128. I'd Love To Change The World

Levi hears the knock on Jesus’s door and involuntarily does some whole-body-shudder action.

 

Mariana gets up to answer it, motioning for Levi to stay put.  She looks out the peephole and assures Levi, “It’s Jesus,” before opening it.

 

“Hey.  You guys ready for us to come back?  Maybe for Feelings Time: Round Two?” Jesus sniffs the air experimentally and relaxes.  No trace of pizza.

 

Mariana turns to Levi and raises her eyebrows.  Her message is clear enough:

 

_ Talk to him. _

 

“Actually…  Could  _ we _ , first?” Levi wonders.

 

“Oh, yeah.  Of course,” Jesus comes in and closes the door, giving the place a once-over.  “Looks okay.”

 

“They did mess with stuff,” Levi admits.  “But I--I put it all back the way you had it.  I swear.”

 

“Dude, thank you.  I really appreciate that.  But...why do you look scared right now?  Are you okay?”

 

“Not really,” Levi admits.  “The same thing happened to us, remember?  Pearl and me? And...I just...wanted to help...but it wasn’t easy.”

 

There’s this long, awkward silence.  

 

Finally, Jesus asks.  “Did something happen?  Other than them messing with stuff in here?”

 

“Yeah, you were pissed at him,” Mariana says.

 

“Wait.  When was this?” Jesus wonders.

 

“This morning,” Levi says.  “It’s fine. You know what? It’s no big deal.  Let’s just forget about it.”

 

“No,” Mariana objects.  “This is okay. Jesus? Right?”

 

“Yeah, if you’ve got something on your mind, I always wanna hear it,” he nods.  “And I definitely don’t want you to be afraid of me. This morning, you said? Oh, was it about the weirdo outside?”

 

Levi nods again.

 

“That wasn’t your fault.  You were being a solid friend to Mari.  And I appreciate that. I shouldn’t have been impatient.  I’m sorry.”

 

“So…  Are you, like, still pissed?” Levi checks.

 

“No, I’m good,” Jesus pauses, tilting his head a little, trying to catch Levi’s eye.  “What’s up? Whatever it is, I wanna hear.”

 

“It’s kinda a non-issue now, though…” Levi objects.  “If you’re not mad, I shouldn’t still need to talk about it.”

 

“But it’s okay if you do.  It’s safe if you do,” Jesus reassures him.

 

Levi still finds himself looking to Mariana.  Double-checking with her. She’s the closest person to Jesus, but there’s also no doubt that she and Levi share something deep and personal.  Levi feels like he can trust her. Maybe more than anybody else.

 

She nods.

 

“Okay so…” Levi starts out.  “This railing thing?”

 

“This what thing?” Jesus asks, confused.

 

“You texted me about helping you install a railing at Stef and Lena’s.  Front steps,” Levi reminds.

 

“Right.  My brain’s kinda everywhere right now…” Jesus apologizes.  “You said okay. Is it...I mean, did you change your mind?”

 

“Not exactly…” Levi swallows, reaching out for Mariana’s hand, glad for the table that obscures them.

 

Mariana finds it.  Takes it. Squeezes.

 

“This…  I mean… It’s probably a trauma thing?  But when you asked me, I was still hung up about you being mad at me about this morning.  I said yes…” Levi trails off.

 

“...Because you didn’t want to risk making me mad by saying no…” Jesus fills in the gap, knowing.  “Dude, I wouldn’t be mad if you said no. And I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to just go along with an idea of mine out of fear.  That’s not safe.”

 

“But Mari and Fran need this.  And you need the backup. I know you do.  That’s the reason you’re doing it now and not later when they’re gone at the workshop, right?” Levi presses.

 

“Well, yeah.  But I  _ have _ other people I could ask.”

 

“Who?” Mariana asks.

 

“I don’t know.  Brandon? Mike? Maybe Gabe?” Jesus lists.

 

“Hell no!  You’re not asking  _ Gabe _ ,” Mariana insists.

 

“Why not?  He’s out of jail,” Jesus objects.  “And he works in construction!”

 

“ _ And _ he told Ana to get rid of us.  So no,” Mariana sits back in the chair.  Levi’s pretty sure if he didn’t have one of her hands, she’d have her arms crossed right now.  “He’s not helping.”

 

“Okay…” Jesus agrees, dragging the word out hesitantly.  “Any objection to Brandon or Mike?”

 

“You mean other than the fact that Brandon  _ hates us _ ?” Mariana remarks, bitter.

 

“Guys, come on.  Don’t fight. I’ll help.  I said I would and I will.  I want to. I just...wanna talk through some stuff first,” Levi interjects.

 

“I’m good with that,” Jesus nods.

 

“Just...I--I think...you should know that I kinda felt instant pressure when you sent that text.  I went along, like you said. To keep you happy, kinda. And it kinda felt like I was being set up?” Levi admits.

 

“Set up how?” Jesus wonders.

 

“Like...say I pissed you off while we were  _ there _ , and then you just took off or something.  Left me there with them… It’s not that I’m not totally ready to help out with this, I am.  And I’m kinda amazing at fixing stuff. But...if I’d have to worry about you maybe leaving me there?  With Moms who might be pissed all on their own? Well...that’s a lot like my trauma.”

 

“Sounds like it,” Jesus nods, sympathetic.  “So, first. You wanna come? For real? You’re not just doing this out of obligation?”

 

“I do want to.  I just wish it were at someone else’s house,” Levi exhales loudly.

 

“So, what do we need to do to make totally sure that you feel safe?” Jesus asks.

 

“Anything goes?” Levi asks, curious.

 

“I’d say, yeah, as long as everybody’s safe,” Jesus nods.  “What were you thinking of?”

 

“Well...not to be immature about this, or whatever, but...I just can’t handle seeing Stef and Lena again,” Levi admits.  “So, if they came home unexpectedly or something? You think we could just get out of there?”

 

“Definitely.  I’m with you on that,” Jesus nods.  

 

“Together, right?  Because if I’m gonna feel okay there, I need to know you have my back.  That we can stay together. That you’re not about to ditch me with them, because you still weren’t over being mad at me today or something.”

 

“Totally.  We’ll stay together.  And I’d never ditch you over there, I know how toxic it is.  I’m not mad at you. And even if I were? That’s not a thing I’d ever do,” Jesus explains.

 

“Okay…” Levi lets out a breath.  “Just...it’s a thing. Being left behind at a place.  Somewhere dangerous, that maybe other people think is fine?”

 

“Levi, I know it’s not fine there.  If we leave, we leave together,” Jesus reassures.

 

“What about...do I have to go inside?” Levi asks.

 

“Dude.  No. You don’t have to do anything that doesn’t feel one hundred percent safe to you,” Jesus insists.

 

“Well, what if I have to use the bathroom or something?  And we’re over there? Because that’s definitely not something I’d feel safe doing.  And I don’t wanna talk about it. And I don’t want it to be a thing, so if it’s a thing, let’s just not talk about it…” Levi manages, going a little breathless.

 

“Levi.  Hey. It’s cool.  If you need to leave...for any reason...you can tell me,” Jesus reassures.

 

“But how?” Levi practically begs.  “And how do I know you won’t change your mind, come tomorrow and not wanna go until things are all done there?”

 

“You could say something like… ‘ _ Can we head back? _ ’ Jesus suggests.  “And you know I won’t go back on my word because we trust each other.  We’re talking everything through now, so that I know what you’re gonna need.  And also because I don’t want to hang around there any longer than we have to either.”

 

“You’re sure?  Because even telling you this much is, pretty much freaking me out,” Levi admits.  “Like, I’m legitimately terrified our whole friendship is gonna be over…”

 

“Look,” Jesus explains patiently.  “I get the fear. Okay. I do. Our friendship’s not gonna be over because you told me a thing you need.  It’s stronger because of it.”

 

“Okay, but like...is there any possible scenario where...say you wake up tomorrow and are like, ‘ _ Actually, forget all that stuff from yesterday.  Bye? _ ’”

 

“No.  The only way our friendship is gonna end is if you come to me and tell me you’re done being friends for some reason.  (Which, I hope you never do, because you guys are all my family…) I’d be really bummed. But I’d respect it.”

 

“Seriously?” Levi asks.  “That’s the only way?”

 

“The only way,” Jesus repeats.  “And I’m not gonna change my mind about all the stuff you said either.  It’s not a big deal for me to look out for you and make sure we stay together.  Or bail together, as the case may be.”

 

“Oh,” Levi says, a little stunned.  “I just… I guess I’m still not okay from earlier.”

 

“Yeah, I don’t think any of us are,” Jesus nods.  “So, you’re in good company. Oh, and for the record?” Jesus asks.

 

Levi winces in anticipation.  “What?” he asks, opening one eye.  “What’d I do now?”

 

“You’re not in trouble, dude.  Relax. Please. I mean, if you can.  I was just gonna say… There’s no universe where you’re expected to come in here and clean up after them.  That’s a trauma thing for me, too, so I do get it. I’m just saying that it’s never an expectation I have.”

 

“But I’m staying here, though,” Levi objects.

 

“And I know that can make all kinds of things weird as hell,” Jesus nods.  “So that’s why I’m telling you straight: You never have to clean my place.”

 

Levi blows out another breath.  “Thanks. For talking me down.”

 

“No problem,” Jesus nods.  Then, he turns to Mariana. “So, how are you with all this?  Okay?”

 

“No,” Mariana shakes her head.  “It sucks. You?”

 

“Yeah.  Sucks,” he echoes.  “I’ve had to go hang out with Val, like twice in no time, because of all the crap they said…and did…  You know Stef came at me?” he checks.

 

“Oh, no way,” Levi breathes.  “Were you okay?”

 

“I mean, Dudley was on it.  And Pearl, too. Blocked me from her,” Jesus shivers a little.

 

“I’m sorry that happened,” Levi says.

 

“Me, too,” Mariana echoes.

 

“Was Fran okay?” Jesus double checks.

 

“Before or after I made her cry?” Mariana asks.

 

“Oh, no.  What happened?” Jesus asks.  “Do you wanna say? Or, I mean, can you, I guess, too?”

 

Levi’s ready for it when Mariana nods at him: “Fran was a little hyped up from all the coffee ice cream...which was my bad...I keep forgetting.  Just because Dad let me have coffee when I was a kid. That doesn’t mean it’s the same for everybody.”

 

“Don’t worry about it.  I could tell you weren’t cool with that ice cream.  That you needed to swap,” Jesus reassures.

 

“Serious?  And here I thought I was being all lowkey about it.  Can everybody see through me?” Levi asks.

 

“Well, I could because I recognized it,” Jesus allows.  “For the record? You never have to eat anything you don’t like just because you think it’ll make us happy.”

 

“Mariana said the same,” Levi smiles a little.

 

“Well, Mariana knows we’re not about pretending.  Unless we have to, to survive. And as Avoiders? We don’t have to be in survival mode with each other.  Anyway, what went down with Fran?”

 

“Right.  So… Fran was talking about how she told Val all about the lady from this morning.  And the website. Like, a lot. And Mariana tried to get her to stop talking, but she wouldn’t.  Or couldn’t, I guess. And said something like that she hated when Mari yelled at her. Mariana tried to tell her she hated what Fran was talking about, but Mari said she hated  _ Fran _ instead, by accident.”

 

“Ouch,” Jesus winces.  “So, are you guys okay?” he asks.

 

“I mean, I guess?” Mariana nods.  “I just can’t handle talking about the website, Jesus.  Like, at all. So, if you could help...I don’t know…”

 

“Keep it to a minimum?” Levi suggests.

 

“Yeah,” Mariana nods.  “That’d be great.”

 

“For sure,” Jesus agrees.  “I got you guys. Always.”

 

“Same,” Mariana nods.

 

“Same,” Levi echoes.


	129. Talk To Me

Francesca’s spent a long time up in Dominique’s bed, watching Netflix.  She’s secretly hoping that all the adult Avoiders like Levi and Mari especially will have forgotten about what happened and will never talk about it again.

 

But another part of Fran  _ needs _ to talk about it.  And she already tried to bring it up with Dominique but it seemed like she didn’t want to listen or something.  She just gave really quick answers and the conversation about that just kind of ended.

 

Maybe Francesca shouldn’t have brought it up.  (But Dominique’s the only one Fran knows of who might know what it’s like to have what happened to Fran happen.  She’s the only one who might know how it feels.) But maybe Dominique didn’t really wanna discuss it.

 

To be honest, that whole thing kinda takes over any feelings Fran even has seeing Moms.  She’s so relieved about them not knowing. She’s so glad it’s over. And somewhere, she’s still kind of feeling that feeling that climbs higher inside her.

 

Trauma, probably.

 

The point is, she doesn’t have extra energy for more feelings.  Or for Feelings Time. She’s just kind of feeling good about being alone and watching hours of Netflix.  Sometimes that’s way better than talking.

 

“Hey,” Pearl sticks her head in again.  (Seriously, she is so hyper about where Fran is and what she’s doing.)

 

“Still here,” Fran says in a bored voice.

 

“Wanna come to Jesus’s?  Have Feelings Time?” Pearl asks.

 

“I’m kinda busy…” Fran hurries to mute _ My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic  _ before Pearl notices.  (It’s for babies, practically, but Fran still likes it.  She just can’t get caught watching it or Lena will start talking about ‘acting your age’ or worse, ‘getting fresh air.’)

 

“I see that,” Pearl says.  “May I join you?”

 

“I don’t know.  Ask Dominique. It’s her bed,” Fran shrugs.

 

“Good point.  But I’m asking you as well,” Pearl says.

 

“Fine, if you want to climb all the way up here,” Fran agrees, as she tries to find something Pearl might like.  Something with animals in the title maybe. She likes dogs, but there aren’t any dog shows.

 

“Dominique, do you mind if I climb up to your bed and join Fran?” Pearl calls.

 

“I’m fine with it if she is,” Dominique agrees.

 

“I am,” Fran calls back.  “So…” she says, after Pearl makes her way up the whole ladder and into the bed next to Fran.  “Which do you want to watch?  _ Bird Box _ ?  Or  _ Silence of the Lambs? _ ”

 

“Neither,” Pearl says, surprising her.  “Jesus and Mariana would not be very happy with me if I let you watch thrillers.”

 

“What’s thrillers?” Fran asks.

 

“It’s a genre of movie.  Kind of scary. And both of these are rated R.   Which means you shouldn’t watch them until you’re eighteen.”

 

“Unless there’s an adult,” Fran qualifies.  “If I watch with an adult, then it’s okay. I’ve watched lots of the  _ Harry Potter _ movies.  P.S. Voldemort’s not even that scary.  Plus, I’ve seen  _ Black Panther _ , too.”

 

“I think the highest those go is PG-13,” Pearl points out.

 

Fran makes a face.  “Well, Mama let me watch Beyonce’s  _ Homecoming _ with her, and I was nine, so…”

 

“Look, I don’t want to fight with you.  I just wanted to join you in what you were doing,” Pearl explains.

 

“But I don’t want you to  _ know _ what I was doing…” Fran bites her lip.

 

Pearl grins a grin like she’s about to say something funny.  “You weren’t watching  _ Silence of the Lambs _ up here, were you?” she asks, nudging her.

 

“No.  But I don’t get it.  Why is a movie about lambs so bad?” Fran asks.

 

“Because, it’s not really about lambs,” Pearl says.  

 

“That’s it?  It’s just not about lambs?” Fran checks.

 

“And it’s about a very bad man who does really horrible things to people,” Pearl explains.  “So...I just want you to know...it’s okay if you don’t want to share with me what you were watching.”

 

“It is?” Fran asks.

 

“I used to not want anyone to know my interests either,” Pearl admits.

 

“Really?  Like when you were eleven?” Fran asks.

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Why didn’t you want anyone to know?  You were smart, right?” Fran asks.

 

“I was, yeah.  I like to think I still am,” Pearl smiles a little.  “But I didn’t like people knowing what I liked doing because my mom thought it was silly.  Unless it was something she liked, too.”

 

“Oh…” Fran nods.  “That’s kind of how mine are, too.  So, I just would rather you guys don’t know what I like.  Especially, you know, if it’s kind of babyish.”

 

“I think so long as you enjoy it and it’s not about making fun of people or violence that you should watch what you like.”

 

“Do you like this show?” Fran points at MLP with Mariana’s cursor.

 

“I don’t think I’ve seen it.  I did have that yellow horse with the pink mane and tail, though!  I got her for Christmas when I was two.”

 

“Aw, you got FlutterShy!” Fran says, impressed.

 

“I did,” Pearl nods.

 

“That’s so cool!” Fran gushes.  

 

That does it, and Fran and Pearl watch a little bit of that on Netflix, until Fran can’t concentrate anymore and pauses it.

 

“So...did Levi tell you?  What I did?” Fran asks.

 

“I’m sorry?” Pearl asks, confused.

 

“When Moms were at Jesus’s and Levi and Mari and I came inside here…” Fran explains.  “Did he tell you what I did? Why he had to change his clothes and everything?”

 

“Oh.  I did see.  He didn’t tell me anything, though.  Are you okay?” Pearl asks.

 

“I’m embarrassed,” Fran admits.  “Dominique said just believe Levi that he said he’s not mad and stuff.  But that’s really hard. Most of the time when this happens at home? It’s the worst and they make fun of me a lot, or yell.  And I don’t like it either way.”

 

“That makes sense,” Pearl nods.  “That you can’t just take Levi at his word because your Moms have made it clear that what happened is unacceptable, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Fran nods.  “And I’m so worried that Moms are gonna find out.  And also that all of the adult Avoiders aren’t going to like me anymore and think I’m just some baby now.  Maybe you’ll kick me out of The Avoiders?”

 

“That is not happening,” Pearl says, in a voice that Francesca likes a lot because it’s calm and just her saying it like it is.  “You know why?”

 

“Why?” Fran asks.

 

“Because we are safe adults,” Pearl reminds.  “That’s a whole different kind of adults than you’re used to.  We won’t tell your moms. We won’t make fun of you. And we definitely still want you to be in The Avoiders.  It’s do  _ you _ want to be?”

 

“I really do...but I’m too much of a baby…” Fran insists, wiping her eyes.

 

“You’re absolutely not a baby.  Trauma makes all kinds of things happen.  It used to make it really hard for me to go outside.  Everybody can go outside, right? If they want to?”

 

“Well, yeah, except for Jesus and Isaac,” Fran remembers.

 

“Right,” Pearl nods, sad.  “But I’m saying...you don’t think I’m a baby because I was scared to go out, do you?”

 

“No, because what if your trauma was out there?” Fran asks.

 

“Exactly.  You had the reaction you had because your trauma  _ was here _ .  That’s really scary.  And it makes sense that your body had a big response to it.”

 

“Pearl?” Fran asks.

 

“Yes?” she says back, just like Liv, her Language teacher that’s not Timothy.

 

“I wish my moms were just my moms and not my trauma,” Fran sighs.

 

“I wish that, too.  For you, and for me.  For Jesus and Mariana,” Pearl lists.

 

“And Levi,” Fran adds.

 

“And Levi,” Pearl nods.

 

“I just…  I don’t think I’m ready to sit down with absolutely every single Avoider right now,” Fran says, quiet.

 

“That’s okay.  It makes sense that you might need your own space.  But, as someone who used to spend a lot of time alone in my room?  As a safe adult, I want to make sure you know we love you and we’re here.  We’re very nearby, if you ever do want to talk.”

 

“You’re very,  _ very _ nearby,” Fran grins, bumping into Pearl’s shoulder.

 

“That’s true,” Pearl laughs.

 

“Is this your first time up here in Dominique’s bed?” Fran asks.

 

“It is,” Pearl nods.

 

“Because you like the couch?” Fran checks.

 

“Well, it’s more I know that Dominique likes her bed, and that Mariana and sometimes you, like it, as well.  So I like all of you to be where you feel the most comfortable,” Pearl explains.

 

“Hey.  Is Cleo scared of heights?” Fran wonders.  

 

“Why do you ask that?” Pearl props her chin in one hand and turns to look at Fran.  Their faces are weirdly close. But not that weird.

 

“Because she’s not up here,” Fran points out.  “Hey, what if...Roberta and her have a big fight.  Who do you think would win?”

 

“Well, Cleo’s not much of a fighter…” Pearl admits.  

 

“And Roberta hates life so she probably has a lot of energy inside for fighting…” Fran considers.  “Oh, but Dudley!”

 

“You think Dudley’s a fighter?” Pearl asks, surprised.

 

“Well, no.  But if somebody tries to attack Jesus, then he is,” Fran says.  

 

“That’s true.  Dudley’s pretty great at protecting Jesus,” Pearl smiles.

 

“Hey, do you miss Gracie?  Because I do. She was such a good dog and I miss her a lot,” Fran says.

 

“I do miss her a lot,” Pearl nods.  “I love Cleo, but I do miss Gracie.”

 

“Because you can do both?” Fran asks.  “Loving Cleo doesn’t mean you can’t miss Gracie?  You can, like, double-task?”

 

“Multi-task?” Pearl asks and then thinks about it.  “I guess you could call this emotional multi-tasking, sure.”

 

“You always take me seriously,” Fran observes.  “You’re like, a real adult, and you take me seriously.”

 

“It sounds like that means a lot to you,” Pearl says.

 

Fran nods.  “It does. Because lots of people - kids even - they don’t listen to me?  And they learn from adults who also don’t listen. But you’re not like that.  You’re like the  _ one _ who’s not like that.”

 

“You don’t feel like the other Avoiders take you seriously?  Or are you saying that it’s the most notable because I’m ancient?” she teases.

 

“I don’t think 37 is ancient,” Fran says sweetly.

 

“I’m 38 now…” Pearl says with a straight face, but Fran knows she’s still up for jokes because of her eyes.

 

“Oh gosh!  38  _ is _ ancient!” Fran giggles until she sees Pearl grab a pillow.  “I’m just kidding! I’m kidding!”

 

Pearl bops her with the pillow super lightly.  “I know you are,” she reassures. “And I love your sense of humor.  That you don’t intentionally hurt people with it.”

 

“I used to…” Fran admits.  “I used to say mean things about Mariana when I was nine and ten.”

 

“Right, before you knew The Avoiders?” Pearl asks.

 

“Yeah.  I’m really ashamed about that, actually…” Fran admits.  “I’ve said sorry. But still.”

 

“You know, before I was in The Avoiders?  And before I met Jesus? I used to have a really mean sense of humor, too.  We learn what we’re around. So you and I...were around parents who were sarcastic.  Told mean jokes. Made fun of people.”

 

“But now I’m not,” Fran realizes.  “And you’re not. Because I get to live here for two more weeks.  And you’re grown up and can live anywhere you want.”

 

“That’s true.  So, now that we’re around safe people and Avoiders’ culture, which means we don’t ever make fun of each other or do mean things on purpose, we get to evolve.”

 

“Like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?  How they were just regular baby turtles until they got into the ooze in the sewers and it changed them?”

 

“Sure, I guess you could say the Avoiders’ culture is the ooze that’s changing us into better people.  That’s some metaphor,” Pearl approves.

 

“Thank you,” Fran nods, proud.  “I learned about them in school.”

 

“I really like spending time with you,” Pearl tells her.

 

Fran looks away.  But with her eyes fixed on Netflix, she says quietly, “Me, too.”


	130. Feel Something

“Well, looks like Feelings Time’s a bust,” Jesus sighs, flopping down on the futon near Mariana.  “After all that’s happened and no one wants to sit down and hash it out…”

 

“Hard when we’re all in our trauma,” Mariana points out.

 

“That’s true,” Jesus nods.  “I just miss when we’re all talking together.”

 

“Right, but maybe we can’t do that right now,” Mariana says.  “Sometimes people just need space.”

 

“Are you saying  _ you _ need space?  From  _ me _ ?” Jesus checks.

 

“No, I’m saying maybe calm down.  Just because you’re ready for something doesn’t mean we all are.”

 

“Ouch. Okay,” Jesus crosses his arms.

 

Mariana revels in the silence until she realizes that Jesus is too quiet.  Dudley’s right there, resting his head in Jesus’s lap. Not alerted to anything.  But Mariana knows him well enough to know when his feelings are hurt.

 

“Look...I didn’t mean don’t talk to me,” Mariana tries again.

 

“No, just calm the hell down, right?” Jesus mutters.

 

“I didn’t say it like that.  And you didn’t ask me what I meant.  So how would you even know?” Mariana insists.

 

“I’m sorry I don’t like Moms in my damn space, okay?” Jesus snaps.

 

“Well, welcome to the club!” Mariana shoots back.  “They’re in our stuff all the damn time!”

 

“Not behind a locked door!” Jesus yells.

 

“Sometimes!” Mariana just keeps getting louder.  (Seriously, if Jesus can’t rein it in, things are gonna get bad, and fast.  Because Mariana can’t rein it in right now.)

 

Dudley, it turns out, is the one that jumps in for both of them.  He’s whining, and probably picking up on all their adrenaline.

 

“Okay,” Jesus says to Dudley and takes a deep breath.  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be yelling at you like this. I hate when we fight.”

 

“Me, too,” Mariana nods, even though adrenaline’s still surging inside her.

 

“I guess...I didn’t hear  _ you  _ telling me to calm down as much as...I heard _ them  _ telling me to calm down.  You know?” Jesus asks.

 

Mariana does know.  “Like nothing you feel is like…”

 

“Legit,” Jesus fills in.  “So, they just dismiss it.  Because they see it as an overreaction.  But spend years not being able to have any reaction, and you’re gonna have some big ones later…”

 

“You just...seem really wound up…” Mariana points out.

 

“I am.  They were in here.  Levi said they moved stuff.” Jesus points out.

 

“Sometimes, they do.  I guess we’re used to it, living at home…” Mariana says.

 

“They never did that to me then,” Jesus realizes.  “My room was, like, sacred. They never touched it.  Even the time Lena washed my backpack after we were at the cabin the first time.  It was in a basket outside. They never just went in and moved stuff.”

 

“Yeah, lucky you,” Mariana mutters, crossing her own arms.  “You get to wait til we’re 23 to have them mess with your stuff in your space.  They’ve done it to Fran and me since my accident. At least.”

 

“Okay, but it’s not the same thing as having them break into my apartment, Mari.  I’m not trying to fight with you but they...they own the house.”

 

Mariana scowls.  “So..you don’t think we have a right to be as pissed as you.”

 

“Not about this.  And by the way? I’ve had to deal with creeps in my space since I was nine, so…”

 

“And I’ve had to since we were  _ babies _ , Jesus!   It happens!  God!” Mariana exclaims.  “You seriously don’t remember anything from before the police got us the first time?”

 

“The thing when we were in the crib…” Jesus allows.

 

“I don’t mean that.  I mean...with the people.  Ana’s people. They were around.  And sometimes….”

 

“Sometimes?” Jesus asks, scared.

 

“Don’t act like you don’t know, Jesus!  You  _ know _ !  I’m saying...it’s a fact.  It’s a thing that happens.”

 

“Yeah, and it  _ shouldn’t happen _ ,” Jesus says back, eyes flashing.  “In an ideal world--”

 

“We don’t live in an ideal world, Jesus!  There’s nothing we can do about who comes where and does whatever, so just...grow up!”

 

“I don’t like it that you think I’m trying to compete with you,” Jesus says, quiet.  “This isn’t a competition. It’s life.”  

 

“I know that,” Mariana says back.

 

“And I do have a right to my feelings about it,” Jesus finishes.

 

“And I do, too.  I’m just saying… How do  _ you _ like it?  You’ve… There’s a lot...that you didn’t have to deal with...that we did.  Because you’re you. Even to Moms. Something happened to you...and it made them care more.  Love you...more. Look out for you. Whatever,” Mariana manages.

 

“Dude, Mariana.  Seriously?” Jesus asks, hurt.  

 

“Shut up.  I’m talking about this.  You can’t stop me from talking about this,” Mariana insists.

 

“Go on,” Jesus says, but his voice sounds strained.  Tight. 

 

“Something happened to me, and...the exact opposite.  And Fran’s never gotten the benefit of whatever. Never had parents who got what it was like for her...or cared to even learn,” Mariana tries to swallow but her throat is blocked off by tears.

 

“Mariana...those are all such different experiences,” Jesus objects.  

 

“They’re not, though!  They’re really not… You didn’t ask to get kidnapped!  I didn’t try to get a TBI. Fran didn’t choose to be born early!” Mariana insists.  “None of us chose what we got. But we got it. And they treated us way differently for a long time because of it.”

 

“So, you’re saying...what?  Now I get a taste of what it’s like for you and Fran?  I know what it’s like, Mari. I know that and worse.” Jesus points out.  

 

“But I’m saying…” Mariana tries.  “Nothing is as bad as what you went through.  Right? So, you don’t think you should have to...what?  Go through anymore crap? That’s not how any of this works.  Listen to somebody else. You always wanna be considered. But do you consider  _ us _ ?”

 

Jesus takes a deep breath.  “You’re saying...they treated you and Fran differently for things neither of you could help.  Worse. Than they treated me for a thing I couldn’t help?” 

 

Mariana nods.

 

“I just...still don’t see how they’re comparable…” Jesus admits.

 

“But we’re all _ theirs _ , right?  We’re  _ their kids _ .  They promised they’d love us.  And they...just...they don’t,” Mariana says, defeated.

 

“They’re not acting like it,” Jesus admits.  “Listen. I’m sorry. For how they’ve been treating you.  For the fact that it reminds you of when we were little. For all of it.  And I’m sorry for...dismissing what you and Fran have had to go through.”

 

“Thank you.  I’m sorry for saying...like...this is no big deal.  And like, that you should know what it’s like. I don’t want you to ever know what this is like…” Mariana wipes her eyes.

 

“Can I hug you?” Jesus asks.

 

“I guess,” Mariana agrees.  “But whether it’s our room in their house or whether it’s your apartment...it’s still a thing…”

 

“Yeah, it is.  Sorry I’m a jerk,” he says wrapping his arms around her.  “Let’s never fight again. I hate it.”

 

“I know,” Mariana agrees, hugging him back.

 

\--

 

“So...are you okay that I’m over here?”  Levi asks, playing with Cleo.

 

“I mean, yeah.  Where else would you go?” Dominique asks.

 

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Levi points out, glancing at her from the floor.

 

“I know,” Dominique admits.  “Yes, I’m okay that you’re here.”

 

“It’s just...Jesus and Mariana had some stuff they needed to talk about, I guess and...I didn’t really know where else to go…” Levi sighs.  “I’m so freaked out, Dom. I seriously never wanna see their parents again.”

 

“That makes two of us,” she nods.  “I just don’t know what the hell they thought they were doing…  Scratch that. I know exactly.”

 

“What?” Levi wonders.

 

“Catching them off guard,” Dominique fills in.  “Trying to bribe them with pizza. But it backfired because...imagine...that Jesus doesn’t want them breaking in and he hates pizza.”

 

“The bribing thing…” Levi starts.  “These whole last few days? Have kinda gotten in my head.  And I guess...I don’t know. I’ve felt like I had to do what y’all wanted me to do so you’d like me?”

 

“You don’t,” Dominique tells Levi plainly.

 

“I know...just...enough stuff has happened to make me feel like I do.  And so that’s kinda where I am. Where I was even before I saw Stef and Lena.  Are you okay?”

 

“Not by a long shot, no,” Dominique shakes her head.  “I’m triggered, too. For different reasons, obviously, but I am.  It helps to have a person. An apartment person, you know? I think you and Pearl will appreciate that.  If you ever are able to move in here.”

 

“Can I ask...what makes it different?  Having an apartment person versus having us?  I don’t mean that like it sounds. I’m not upset about it.  Just curious,” Levi says.

 

“Well...I think what Lena has that I appreciate the most is objectivity.  She knows quite a bit about me and some about y’all, but she’s not in it, like I am.  So she can kinda look at things with a little distance. And she has a lot of knowledge in how to calm down, regulate, that kind of thing.  Which is helpful.”

 

“Would I have to have a man?  You know...do y’all get sorted by gender?  Or is it like The Sorting Hat and they take what you want into consideration?”

 

Dominique grins.  “You know how to get me with those Harry Potter references...and I’d just remind you...of a little duo called Jesus and Val.”

 

“Oh right,” Levi slaps his forehead.  “I’m ridiculous, I didn’t even think about them.”

 

“No, you were asking an honest question.  Don’t beat yourself up,” Dominique cautions.  She pauses to breathe. “Anyway, no, we’re not sorted by gender, necessarily.  Most times it is that way. But they will make an exception here and there if...say somebody’s triggered by their own gender.”

 

“I don’t even know why I asked if I’d have to have a man.  It’s not like I’d be more comfortable with a woman…” Levi remarks.

 

“It’s in the future, Levi.  Nothing’s happening right now,” Dominique points out.

 

“So, are you okay?” he asks.  “You said you were triggered and I realize I didn’t ever respond to that.  But like...I’m sorry. And I’m here for you, too, if you need to talk about anything.  I wouldn’t share with anyone if you didn’t want me to.”

 

“Okay.  Slow down,” Dominique urges.  “I get it. And I’m not about to kick you out of The Avoiders or get mad or anything you might be expecting right now.  This is a friendship. With humans. Who can make honest mistakes and have oversights. I know you still care.”

 

“But if you did need to talk or something?” Levi insists.

 

“Then, I’d appreciate knowing I had your confidence.  I did a lot of processing with Lena. So I’m okay right now.  It’s just weird. I know that sometimes Jesus wants to come to me to talk about the parts of our experience that we have in common.  But I don’t want to come to him in return, because all I can see is how different what happened to each of us actually was.”

 

“You could talk to me,” Levi offers.  “I mean, if you wanted.”

 

“Seeing his parents was...it brought me back.  To trying to get away. And all of that. And I can’t tell Jesus that.  Can I? Or Mari? Or Fran, obviously? I can’t tell them that their parents scare the hell out of me, to the point that I was downstairs reliving the worst day of my life.”

 

“I mean…” Levi ventures.  “I can definitely see why it would make talking to them hard.  “At least, about this. I don’t always feel like I can tell Pearl everything.  I  _ haven’t _ told her everything.  For just that reason. Because with parents…”

 

“It’s tricky,” Dominique agrees.

 

“It is,” Levi nods.  

 

After a pause, he adds, “In case I haven’t said lately?  I’m really digging being able to have Dock Talks in person again.”

 

When Dominique smiles, it lights up her whole face.


	131. Shallow

It takes a while, but all The Avoiders are eventually gathered around Dominique’s living room and kitchen.  Levi feels like it’s a little less daunting this way - without being all gathered around a table. He knows Fran has a bit of a table trigger.  So does Jesus. Dominique doesn’t even own a kitchen table. So it just makes more sense to hang out like this.

 

“I thought being here would fix everything,” Francesca offers, from her unexpected place in Pearl’s lap.

 

Levi doesn’t even feel jealous.  More curious, about what it might’ve felt like to get to sit in Pearl’s lap, had he grown up with her.

 

“That was silly of me, huh?” Francesca asks, picking at a bandaid.  “Kind of how I thought finding Timothy would be super easy, and he’d fix everything inside me.”

 

“How do you mean, buddy?” Jesus asks.

 

“Like...well…  Maybe you and Mari already know this...but when I was just wondering, wondering, wondering all the time?  It’s like there was a hole inside me. Where he should be, but he wasn’t. I didn’t like missing half of me.”

 

“We do know what that’s like,” Jesus nods.  “But there’s nothing about you that needs to be fixed.  You’re good, just the way you are.”

 

“Thanks, but I know I’m really not,” Fran says, matter-of-factly.  “If I was, I wouldn’t get treated like...all bad and stuff.”

 

“That’s not you, babe.  That’s them,” Dominique points out.  (Levi wonders if Dom’s jealous Fran’s sitting with Pearl and not her.  It was kinda their thing.)

 

“Still.  I’m not perfect.  No one is,” Fran points out.  “Especially not me. Such a baby…”

 

Levi wonders if it’s just him, or if Fran’s avoiding looking his way.  Probably. She still seems fragile. Worried.

 

“Why do you say that?” Mariana wonders.

 

“Because, it’s true,” Fran says.  “It’s silly to think staying here will magically help things.  Or Timothy will magically fix me.”

 

“I thought you’d fix us…” Mariana confesses.  “I was eleven, like you, when Lena told us. And I thought...I don’t know.”

 

“But you guys weren’t broken,” Fran points out.

 

“Neither are you,” Mariana says back, sure.  “I’m just saying? It doesn’t make you silly to hope.  It just makes you eleven.”

 

“I thought meeting Pearl would fix everything,” Levi confesses.  “And I was a lot older than eleven…” He glances at his sister. “Okay, not everything.  But it seemed like...it’d maybe help.”

 

“Did you have a hole like me?” Fran asks, carefully not looking at Levi.

 

“I did.  One for my dad--”

 

“--Even though you knew him?” Fran interjects.

 

“Yeah.  Even though I knew him.  And one for my sister,” Levi glances shyly at Pearl.

 

“And I know that I definitely used to daydream about my dad coming back to life.  Coming to get me. And taking me away somewhere,” Pearl adds.

 

“But that didn’t really happen,” Fran points out.

 

“No, it didn’t,” Pearl shakes her head.  “But I wished. And it’s okay to wish.”

 

Levi watches as Fran looks to Dominique for confirmation.

 

“It is okay to wish,” Dominique nods.  “Everybody has to cope in their own way, babe.  And eleven-year-olds come up with some creative ways of coping.”

 

“What ways?” Fran asks.

 

“Well, if it’s okay with Jesus…” Dominique ventures, checking with him.  “Can I share with her my main coping strategy?”

 

“Wait.   _ I _ know it?”  Jesus asks.

 

Dominique drops her voice, but not low enough.  Levi overhears it when she says:

 

“You  _ were _ it.”

 

“Oh, right.  Yeah, you can share…” Jesus nods.  “Thanks for checking.”

 

“So...I was eleven when my trauma happened to me.  And it was kind of similar to what happened to Jesus.  My family knew about what happened to him from the news.  So when it happened to me, and he was still not back home yet?  I pretended he was my friend.”

 

“You made Jesus your imaginary friend...and now you’re friends for real!” Francesca exclaims, impressed.

 

“Yeah, I guess that’s right,” Dominique nods.  “The point is...no coping is silly. It’s all valid.  Especially if it helps us keep going. Gives us hope in a bad situation, that kind of thing.”

 

Levi watches as Fran bites her lip and then risks a glance at him.  “Levi?” she asks.

 

“Hey,” he says back gently.  

 

“Are you mad at me?” Francesca wonders.

 

“Not one bit,” Levi reassures.  

 

“Did you tell?” she presses.

 

“No.  It’s yours to tell if you want to,” he reassures.

 

“But I bet you guys all know…” Fran worries.  “That when Moms came, and I...couldn’t really hold it?”

 

“It’s okay, Fran,” Jesus says.  “It happens.”

 

“Not to you,” Fran says, sure.

 

“When I tried to go back to school at Anchor Beach, a little bit after coming back?  I got so scared that happened to me,” Jesus admits.

 

“Right at school?” Fran asks, horrified.  “Then, what happened?”

 

“Mariana was with me.  You gave me your sweatshirt to put around me,” Jesus remembers, looking at her.  “And asked about going to find Lena. We did, and she took me home.”

 

“Did she yell at you?” Fran asks, looking like she’s sure she knows how this will play out.

 

“No.  She explained I could change, and once I did, we just sat and talked.  I told her how much I hated school. That’s when she made the choice to homeschool me.”

 

“She always yells at  _ me _ ,” Francesca mutters, hurt.

 

“Yeah, Mariana was just saying that you guys get treated a lot different than they treated me,” Jesus comments, sad.

 

“I was saying to Pearl that...I feel like you guys...might not want me in The Avoiders now.  Now that you know how babyish I am,” Fran admits. “She said it’s not gonna happen, and she  _ is _ the most ancient…” she jokes, with a small smile over her shoulder.  “But I still can’t stop wondering…”

 

“I’m wondering that, too,” Levi adds quietly.

 

“You’re wondering if I should get kicked out now?” Fran asks, alarmed.

 

“No,” Levi rushes to reassure Francesca.  “I’m saying...I’m worried  _ I’ll _ be kicked out, too…”

 

“What did  _ you  _ do?” Fran asks.

 

“Well...I’m worried that...if I’m not helpful enough to all you guys...maybe you’ll be upset with me...and maybe you’ll stop liking me, and we won’t be friends anymore.”

 

“But friends help each other because they want to,” Fran points out.  “Not to stay included.”

 

“Right,” Levi nods.  “Just like true friends understand..that things like this happen...I bet a lot of us know exactly how you feel…” Levi shares.  

 

Mariana raises her hand slowly.  Jesus follows. Then Levi. Then Dominique.  And finally, Pearl.

 

“No way...all of you can’t…  You didn’t do what I did. You’re just trying to make me feel better…” Fran objects.

 

“We’re not…” Mariana insists.  “I used to do that all the time when I first came.  It happened again when Jesus got taken...and again that time we were at the cabin and we all thought Jesus was gone again...even in the hospital…” 

 

“Why didn’t I know?” Fran asks.

 

“Because, we don’t talk about it.  Because we’re made to feel bad about it.  But it happens,” Mariana insists.

 

“And it’s okay to talk about it,” Pearl says.  “With people who love you. People who understand that this kind of thing happens with trauma.”

 

“I’m just worried you guys won’t love me…” Fran sniffs, rubbing her nose.

 

“We do love you,” Levi says.  “All of us love you. And all of us understand.”

 

“Also, nobody’s getting kicked out of The Avoiders,” Dominique says.  “Because we don’t do that.”

 

“I thought it would probably just be better if I was by myself watching Netflix.  So, then, maybe everybody would forget about what I did and we would just move on with our lives,” Fran comments.

 

“‘Cause that’s what happens at home?” Mariana asks.

 

“Yeah,” Fran nods.

 

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Jesus says.  “But we don’t want you to go off and be by yourself because you feel like you deserve to be.  You deserve safety, buddy. And safe people. And love.”

 

Francesca’s clearly uncomfortable with knowing all of this.  “Pearl said it’s fine if I wanna watch whatever, as long as there’s no violence in it or teasing.  So we watched  _ My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic  _ and guess what?”

 

“What?” Pearl asks, like she’s clueless and Fran giggles.

 

“You already know!” Fran manages.  “Somebody else guess.”

 

“I give up,” Mariana says.

 

“We watched together and she didn’t make fun of me for watching a baby show,” Fran shares, shy.  “She even got FlutterShy for Christmas when she was two!”

 

“Whoa,” Jesus says, impressed.

 

“From Dad?” Levi wonders.

 

“I’m not sure,” Pearl admits.  “Probably. He was more known for picking out things I might actually enjoy…”

 

“What’s your guys’ favorite present you ever got?” Fran quizzes.  “Mine was...my trip to Minnesota with all of you.”

 

“Aw, Francesca.  That’s beautiful, babe,” Dominique praises.  “Mine’s gotta be Roberta.”

 

“How did you get her?” Mariana asks.

 

“When I got home from the hospital…  Well, they had therapy animals there.  And I guess my parents heard how much they lowered my stress.  So they showed me pictures of all these cats, from this new litter that had been born recently, where the kittens were getting big enough to get new homes.  They said they’d get me any one I wanted. And I chose Roberta.”

 

“Why?” Fran asks.

 

“Honestly?  She looked pissed about life...and I was pretty pissed about life then myself.  I thought we’d make a good pair.”

 

“That’s so amazing,” Levi grins.  “I love knowing what brought you together was her authenticity.”

 

“Thanks,” Dominique says.  “What about you, Mari?”

 

“Mine’s Jesus getting home,” Mariana shares.

 

“But that was in October,” Fran argues.  “Not Christmas!”

 

“I got Roberta the beginning of December, babe.  It doesn’t have to be a Christmas gift.”

 

“Aw,” Jesus says.  “My best gift was...cupcakes.” he shares, seeming faraway.  “Kind of a birthday gift.”

 

“Just cupcakes?” Fran asks.

 

“Well, they weren’t just cupcakes,” Jesus says.  He doesn’t elaborate.

 

“My best gift was you,” Pearl says, nodding at Levi.  “Completely unexpected, but completely amazing.”

 

“All right,” Levi nods, embarrassed.  “And mine was...probably just going out to watch the sunrise those times with Dad…” he admits.

 

“But he didn’t  _ give you _ the sunrise, Levi.  That’s not a present,” Fran argues.

 

“But it was like he did…” Levi hastens to explain.  “Because the gift I loved most was his time. Him taking time to be with me.  Him noticing, ‘ _ Hey…maybe things aren’t alright right now...and I don’t know what’s wrong.  But I see that _ .’”

 

“You guys all have really deep ones,” Fran comments.  

 

“What matters is that the gift mattered to you.  You got an awesome gift of getting to come to Minnesota and spend a week, all of us together,” Dominique tells Fran.

 

“Right.  It so wouldn’t have been the same without you,” Pearl nods.

 

“That’s nice but I still don’t feel really good about my life, guys,” Fran shares honestly.

 

Levi has to bite his lip to keep from laughing.  Because he knows how easy it would be for Fran to assume she was being laughed at.  And really, there’s nothing funny about a kid who doesn’t really feel good about her life.

 

“What can we do to help?” he asks instead.

 

“Maybe just keep telling me you love me.  Keep your promises to not tell Moms. Don’t tease me.  And don’t be mean to me,” Fran lists.

 

“Buddy...we do love you.  Tons and tons,” Jesus tells her honestly.  “I promise not to tell Moms. I promise I won’t tease you or be mean to you.”

 

“Same,” Mariana says.

 

Levi, Dominique and Pearl all echo her.

 

“Sorry if it’s like...too…” Fran starts, unsure of how to finish her thought.

 

“It’s not too anything,” Pearl reassures.  “Levi asked what we can do to help because we like helping.  Because we want you to feel safe. Especially after something like tonight happens.”

 

“Something like seeing Moms and having them sneak attack us with pizza?” Fran elaborates balefully.

 

“That’s it,” Pearl nods grimly.

 

“I’m sorry to say this Jesus, but I really kind of do want some pizza.  Do you guys think there’s some left?” Fran asks.

 

“I can go down with you and check,” Pearl offers.

 

“It won’t hurt your feelings, Jesus, will it?” Francesca checks.

 

“No, buddy.  I want you to eat pizza if you want to,” Jesus reassures.

 

“But it’s from Moms…” Fran worries.

 

“But it’s still food,” Mariana insists.  “And we always want you to have food.”

 

“Okay.  Bye guys,” Fran waves, walking out holding Pearl’s hand in one of her own, and her stuffed sloth in the other.


	132. Chances

It’s good news for Francesca: the pizza is still there in the lobby.  She holds Slothy between her knees so she can eat and keep her balance. Pearl eats some pizza, too.

 

“Hey, so are you tired of me?” Fran asks.

 

“Tired how?” Pearl wonders and just that answer makes Fran sink inside.  If she wasn’t tired, she would have just said no.

 

Francesca shrugs.  She does enjoy this pizza so much more than the fancy gross pizza Moms usually go and get.  No goat cheese. No slimy onions. No slippery, smooth, warm mushrooms with a horrible gagging feeling.  Just regular old pepperoni.

 

She can be quiet.  Super quiet. Give Pearl the break that she probably wants from all Fran’s questions and annoyingness and being excited about baby stuff.

 

“You okay?” Pearl asks.

 

“Yeah,” Fran nods.  

 

“Why aren’t you talking?” Pearl wonders.  “I thought we were getting along pretty well…”

 

“We are,” Fran admits.  “Just…”

 

“Just what?” Pearl asks.  “Did I say something?”

 

“I mean, not really…” Fran shrugs.  “I guess I  _ do _ want you to be honest.”

 

“How so?” Pearl asks.

 

“Like, if you really _ are _ tired of me, I guess I’d rather know.  It’s not like I’d be super surprised…” Fran says, focused on her pizza.

 

“Who said I was tired of you?” Pearl asks, like she really has no idea.

 

“Um...hello?  You did. You didn’t say no.  You said ‘ _ Tired how _ ?’  That means you _ are _ tired, in some way.”

 

“That’s because I’m used to asking clarifying questions.  I was wondering what was making you feel like you were tiring me.  You aren’t, by the way.”

 

“You can just say it.  I am,” Fran insists. “I know I can be a lot.”

 

“Well, yes, but it’s our job as Avoiders to look out for you, no matter what,” Pearl says.

 

Francesca suddenly doesn’t feel hungry anymore.

 

She scoots her chair back and lets Slothy fall on the ground - better than holding him with her pizza-grease hands.  “I’m gonna go wash my hands,” Fran says over her shoulder, going into the lobby bathroom and locking the door.

 

“Okay.  I’ll be right here,” Pearl calls from outside the door.

 

“You don’t have to wait,” Fran says back.  “I can come back on my own.”

 

“Nope.  Not leaving you.  But I will go rescue your sloth.  Be right back.” Pearl reassures.

 

Fran wants to yell after Pearl not to touch Slothy with her greasy hands but the words don’t come.  She just a kid and doesn’t have the right to say anything to an adult about what they should or shouldn’t do.

 

She takes her time washing her hands.  This bathroom smells funny. Kinda like the hospital bathroom smells.  Or the school one. It’s not like a home-bathroom. Fran uses a lot of soap.  A lot of water. A lot of paper towels. She gets some wet, and washes her face off, too.

 

When she comes back out, Pearl is holding Slothy.

 

Fran takes him from her and says, “Thanks,” but not in a nice way.  (Moms would make her say it again, without attitude.)

 

“You okay?” Pearl asks, like she really wants to know.  (When Fran knows she has enough going on without dealing with all of Francesca on top of it.)

 

“Yeah.  I’m fine,” Fran nods.

 

She can deal with stuff all on her own.  She has before.

 

\--

 

When she gets back up to the third floor, Fran feels a huge wall of feeling rising inside her.  She doesn’t know what it is. She just knows that having to go back to Jesus’s feels the most scary ever right now.

 

She wants to go to Dominique’s instead...until she remembers everybody is actually in there right now, having Feelings Time, no table.

 

Pearl’s walking slower behind Fran.  She says, “Oh shoot. I should’ve taken Cleo out when we were downstairs.  Do you wanna come with me?”

 

“No, that’s okay,” Fran says, slowing down.

 

“You’re sure?” Pearl asks.  “You’re more than welcome to join us if you want?”

 

“Cleo really looks like she has to go,” Fran points out.

 

“Okay.  Well, Dominique’s apartment is right there, so you can feel free to knock on the door.  Or do you want me to?” Pearl asks.

 

Fran’s face gets hot.  It reminds her of the time in first grade when she got a good note sent home about how she opened the door to the class all by herself.  When she’d been able to do that, with not-heavy doors, since she was four.

 

The Avoiders all just finished saying they don’t think Fran’s a baby, but Pearl’s kinda treating her like one.

 

“No, thanks, I got it,” Fran says.  

 

She walks, sloth-speed so that Pearl and Cleo get on the elevator before Fran gets to the door to knock.  She sits down at the end of the hall, cuddling Slothy. Then she gets up. Walks to the elevator. There’s an office right there, but the light’s always off.  Fran tries the handle.

 

Locked.

 

She gets on the elevator.  Rides down to the second floor, where none of The Avoiders usually go.

 

She gets off and immediately smells the perfect deliciousness of laundry soap.  She goes in the laundry room, right by the elevator, but different floor, obviously.

 

The light’s off in here.  But the door is open. It feels like the air is extra warm and sweet.  She and Slothy go inside and check it out. Nobody’s washing clothes, or drying them right now.  Fran can see the counter for folding clothes is empty, too. And in the dark it’s the perfect hideout, to give The Avoiders a break from her.

 

Fran and Slothy get under the counter and sit.  And wait.

 

It’s not bad.  And it smells nice.  And she has Slothy here to keep her company.

 

She wonders how long of a break to give them?  How long have they thought secretly that Fran’s a lot, just like Moms do?  Moms had really wanted that week of a break from her and Mari. And Fran knows she can’t live here for a week, because there’s no bathroom and no refrigerator.  But she probably could hang out here for a while.

 

\--

 

The very first thing Pearl hears, upon getting back from a leisurely walk with Cleo, is Mariana asking where Fran is.

 

“What do you mean?  I thought she came inside.” Pearl says, feeling her insides plummet.  She knows this group’s history. Two-thirds of them have been touched personally by missing kids and a third of them  _ have been _ those missing kids.  

 

This is not happening.

 

“She’s got to be here.  Are you sure she didn’t sneak in quietly while you were talking?” Pearl wonders.

 

Dominique’s already up, checking out her bedroom, on the off chance that Fran  _ did _ walk past without any of them noticing.  

 

She’s back out in seconds, shaking her head.

 

“Pearl, Fran overhears things like a pro, but sneaking’s never come naturally to her,” Jesus points out, already up and looking around.  “I’m gonna go to my place and look around. Mariana, can you text her, please?”

 

“Yeah,” Mariana nods, appearing to be already on it.

 

“Levi, anywhere you can think to look.  Please, look,” Jesus begs.

 

“Got it,” Levi agrees, going to scope out hallways.  “Does she know any of the neighbors?”

 

“No, just me,” Dominique fills in.  “And Val and Lena from the office.”

 

“Okay.  I’m on it.  We’ll find her.” Levi says.

 

“I’ll come with you,” Pearl says to Jesus, not missing that she was the only one not given specific instructions.

 

“What happened when you were downstairs with her?” Jesus asks as Levi takes off at a dead run down the hall, out the door and down some stairs.

 

“What do you mean?  Nothing. We ate pizza.  She went and washed her hands and we came up here.”

 

Jesus is in his apartment now, calling out for Fran, looking in corners and behind his futon.  In closets. His spare room.  

 

“She’s not here,” Pearl says, hopeless.

 

“Why didn’t you come in with her, though?” Jesus insists.

 

“Because...I...I realized that I hadn’t walked Cleo and knew she could use it.  I offered. Asked Fran to go with us but she said no. I even offered to open Dominique’s door for her and she said she had it, Jesus.  She was literally right outside the door when I left a half hour ago. All she had to do was knock.”

 

“But she didn’t knock…” Jesus says, intensity shining in his eyes.  “So what the hell happened?”

 

\--

 

Francesca’s eyes are getting tired.  She’s playing levels and levels of Cookie Land on her phone.  Passing all of them.  

 

Mariana keeps interrupting her with texts.  ( _ Fran where are you?  Are you OK? If you get these call please _ .)  Then calling.  Then messaging.  Then Poloing. Still, Fran keeps her phone volume down.  Because the point of a break is to not bug the adults, so Fran is just going to keep playing until whenever.  She hasn’t decided yet.

 

Maybe until one of them finds her.

 

(If they even  _ want _ to find her…)

 

She has Slothy to keep her company.

 

She’ll be okay.

 

\--

 

“Anything?”  Dominique asks, after turning her own place upside down.

 

“No.  Everything’s unanswered.  It doesn’t even look like she’s getting them at all,” Mariana worries.

 

 Dom is even texting Kimani, Isabella and Shane from Fran’s class at school, via the small directory she keeps of Fran’s friends, just in case Fran loses her phone or something like this comes up.

 

She remembers the cheerleading directory that had been Dad’s only lead when it was Dominique missing.  And no, it didn’t help then. But it couldn’t hurt now to keep contact info just in case.

 

The group text reads:

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Hey, this is Dominique Williams.  I came to y’all’s class last year.  Fran gave me your numbers, just in case she was at one of y’all’s houses.  Have you seen her in the last half hour? Or heard anything from her? Please get back to me either way. _

 

The answers come back quickly, though none with word that Fran is safe with them:

 

**_Isabella Gonzalez:_ **

_ Not since school yesterday.  Sorry. _

 

**_Kimani Jackson:_ **

_ Just texted a little this morning.  That’s it. _

 

**_Shane Kelly:_ **

_ Did something happen?  Should I help look? _

 

**_Dominique:_ **

_ Thanks guys.  Shane, no need.  I’m sure everything’s fine.  _

 

That last text projects a confidence Dominique doesn’t feel at all.  

 

“Should I get in touch with my parents?” she asks Mariana.

 

“No.  Not unless we really need to,” Mariana decides.  “Let’s give Fran a little time. Not, like hours.  But a little time.”

 

Mariana doesn’t look convinced either.  She’s pale. Trauma has sucked out every last ounce of inflection so her face and voice are soft and flat.

 

“I wanna drive past your parents’ house,” Dominique suggests.  “You wanna ride with?”

 

Mariana nods.  “Read my mind.”

 

“Just in case...they decided to swing back by…” Dominique makes quick work of locking the door and tapping on Jesus’s to let him know that she and Mariana are going to drive around.

 

“Sounds good,” Jesus says, from behind the door.  “Polo or Avoider Chat or something if you find her.”

 

“Will do,” Dom says.

 

Then they’re on the elevator and out the door.

 

\--

 

Levi’s gotten carried away running down the stairs and decides to double back.  Be thorough. So he’s knocked on every single third-floor door there is, even the one that says  _ Office _ , that’s never open.

 

So far, no luck.

 

He rides down the elevator to the second floor and is about to check apartments when he notices the laundry room to his immediate right.  Lights off. Not in use.

 

Levi turns the lights on and glances around.  Almost misses the teal and purple shoes - the hole worn in the right toe of them only.

 

Clutching his chest, Levi breathes a huge sigh of relief.  

 

Sends:

 

_ FOUND HER.  WE’LL BE BACK ASAP. _

 

“Hey, Fran?” Levi asks, peeking under the counter, where she sits, playing on her phone.

 

“What?” she asks, quiet.

 

“Can I join you?”

 

His question surprises her, Levi can tell.  Her body jerks a little in surprise, even though he hasn’t come toward her.

 

“It’s okay.  I’m not mad. I just wanna know you’re okay.” Levi reassures.

 

“I’m fine.  That’s the whole point.  ...Are you gonna come under here or not?” Fran asks.

 

“Just waiting for consent,” Levi clarifies and crawls under to sit beside Fran when she waves him under with her.  “So...do you hang out in the dark laundry room often?”

 

“No.  That’s how I figured no one would find me here for a while.  And it worked.”

 

“What happened?  Fran, why would you hide like this?” Levi asks.

 

“Because, I was giving you a break,” Fran explains, like it’s obvious.

 

“Who said we wanted one?” Levi tries again.

 

Fran shrugs.  It’s big and exaggerated, telling Levi she knows exactly who said they wanted a break but that she’s not ready to give it up yet.

 

“Somebody maybe you don’t want me to know?” Levi asks, knowingly.  “Maybe like Pearl?” (She was the last Avoider Fran was with. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to deduce that something must’ve gotten said there - misinterpreted - something.)

 

Fran leans away from Levi slightly.  Into a corner. “It’s fine if you don’t wanna be my friend anymore.  Whatever.”

 

“Francesca.  What happened?  Please tell me,’ Levi tries again, not even caring it sounds like he’s begging.  “I wanna know, so I can help.”

 

“I already know what all of you think, so it’s no use pretending,” Fran shrugs.

 

“What do we think?” Levi asks gently.

 

“I’m a lot…” Fran says in a voice so soft Levi’s not sure he heard right.

 

“Pearl said you’re a lot?” Levi asks, hurt on Fran’s behalf.

 

“She agreed.  I asked if I was and she said, ‘ _ Well, yeah, but that’s our job to be there for you _ ,’ or something.  Just like Moms…”

 

“So...you were giving us a break because Pearl agreed you were a lot?” Levi checks.

 

“I asked if she was tired of me and she goes, ‘ _ Tired how _ ?’  Basically saying she  _ is _ tired of me.  And she’s the oldest.  So, all of you guys listen to her.  I know how it goes. All the kids at school listen to the teachers, even if their ideas are terrible.  And Pearl’s  _ like _ a teacher…”

 

“And your moms have told you that taking care of you is a lot,” Levi says, knowingly. (Seriously.  It was all over Mariana’s hellsite. Not surprising at all that they’d tell Fran it was a burden to love her.)

 

Fran shrugs.  “I passed a million levels on this game, see?” Fran asks, showing Levi her phone.

 

“That’s cool.  I don’t know this one.  Wanna show me how to play it?”

 

“Sure,” Fran says and she begins talking him through it while Levi reassures the other Avoiders that Fran is fine and they’ll be back in a bit.


	133. Give Your Heart a Break

Levi’s not an expert here.  He’s not an expert at much except Na’vi, academics, cashiering and running.  It sounds like a wide skill set but it really isn’t. But eleven wasn’t so far away for him.  And while his childhood was vastly different from Fran’s, he remembers in his own way, how it felt to be an outsider.  The one who tipped the scales from “fun” to “we can’t play because Levi’s here.”

 

“Do you wanna talk some more?” Levi asks.

 

“I am.  You gotta move that blue one over.  See?” Fran directs.

 

“Okay, I see,” Levi agrees and follows her lead.  “You know I’m not happy that Pearl said that to you?”

 

“Why not?” Fran asks.  “She’s your sister. You should be on her side.”

 

“Being her brother doesn’t mean I’m always on her side, Fran.  Brothers and sisters can be wrong sometimes,” Levi explains, carefully attempting to pass a level and failing.  “Sorry.”

 

“It’s okay.  It’s your first time playing,” Fran says, understanding.  She sighs. “I just...don’t want this to be like home. Where Moms never let us forget their lives would be so much easier if we just weren’t there.”

 

“I don’t want it to be like home either,” Levi agrees.  “You deserve to be treated way better than that.”

 

“I wish I had a mom like Jaimie.  Or maybe like yours, who likes my spelling tests, you know?” Fran asks.

 

Levi smiles a little.  “Yeah, my mom’s pretty great.  Not to brag.”

 

“I could tell when she gave you and Pearl all those really nice presents for your birthday.  It was like she really knew you,” Fran says, still focused on her game. Levi doesn’t miss the slight awe in her voice at the idea that a parent could  _ know  _ a child, and give them gifts accordingly.

 

“She does,” Levi nods.  

 

“Mine gave me my nicest gift ever.  Paying for me to go to Minnesota, you know?  But me and Mari both know it was because they needed a break from us that they let us go.”

 

“How’d you feel about it?” Levi asks.

 

“Like...whew,” Fran breathes a sigh of relief.  “I always feel the best when it’s just us kids, no moms.”

 

“So, it didn’t bother you?” Levi wonders.

 

“Well, yeah, kinda.  But I was more happy I got to go,” Fran shares.  She makes a face. “You know, they always talk about how cute Kimani is.  Or how smart Beyonce is. Or how Imani’s good at every sport.”

 

“And what do they say about you?” Levi asks, even though he’s pretty sure he already knows.

 

“ _ Frankie, hurry up.  Frankie, that’s not right.  Frankie, do that again. Frankie, you have to learn to do this by yourself.  Frankie, your CP isn’t a reason. You won’t get extra time in the real world.  Why would you ruin my pretty carpet? You know where the bathroom is! You know better than that! _ ”

 

Levi winces.  “Sounds like they’re super critical of you.  But they say nice things about your friends at school.”

 

“And they say how proud their parents must be.  Like,  _ “Shane’s parents really lucked out.  He’s a keeper.” _

 

“And what do you hear when they say that?” Levi wonders, quiet.

 

“That they  _ didn’t _ luck out with me.  That I’m one of the puny fish like Nemo that can’t swim well.  And if they could, they’d throw me back and get a better one, like Kimani or Beyonce, or Imani.  Even Shane. They like all my friends more than me.”

 

“That’s brutal,” Levi admits.  “And I can see why hearing Pearl asking what kind of tired and saying yes to you offering that you’re too much felt like maybe we all needed a break from you.”

 

“Dang it.  This level’s too hard.  Plus my battery’s almost gone,” Fran complains.

 

“Only your Moms call you Frankie?” Levi asks.

 

Fran makes a face.  “I told them, like, back in third grade, I didn’t like that name.  But they said it is my name and they made me so they can call me whatever they want.  But all the kids at school made fun of it. Said it in a baby voice. You can’t do that with Francesca.  Or it just sounds weird.”

 

Levi smiles a little.  “I won’t call you that.  I was just curious. P.S.  You remember how you felt when I had to leave suddenly in my car because I felt bad about exhausting you and that you and Dominique got followed at the store?”

 

Fran eyes him.  “Yeah. I felt really scared and sad.”

 

“That’s how I felt, looking for you,” Levi shares.  

 

“It was?” Fran asks, incredulous.  “So Pearl really is wrong about this?”

 

“She really is,” Levi confirms.

 

“So...are Jesus and Mariana and Dominique really worried, too?” Fran bites her lip.  “I didn’t do it on purpose. I thought I was doing a good thing.”

 

“I know.  And they’re feeling better now that they know you’re safe,” Levi reassures.  “I wanna talk to you about maybe talking to Pearl with me. What do you think?”

 

“Why?” Fran asks, feeling like nothing will make a difference.

 

“Because what she said had a big impact on how you’re feeling.  And I know you’ve had a hard time tonight already. It’s important to know you’re feelings matter.  That you’re heard. I could stay with you and help you. It wouldn’t have to be a major thing with everybody.”

 

“Just you and me and Pearl?” Fran asks.

 

“Yeah,” Levi nods.  “Just us.”

 

“Can you text her to come here?  But not anybody else?”

 

“Sure thing,” 

 

(Levi hopes that this will give Jesus, Mariana and Dominique a chance to calm down before they actually see Francesca.)

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Pearl, meet us in the laundry room.  (Second floor, right off the elevator.) _

 

\--

 

Jesus is trying to decompress after hearing that Levi found Francesca.  Trying to respect Fran’s apparent need for space (Levi didn’t share  _ where _ he’d found Fran, only that they’d be back.)

 

Mariana and Dominique are also here, having returned from their drive past Moms’ to see if they decided to pick her up unannounced like they have before.  Luckily, Levi texted everyone, so that Mari and Dom wouldn’t have to worry extra.

 

Jesus is trying just to breathe when Pearl gets her own text.  When she heads for the door.

 

“What’s up?” he asks.

 

“Levi wants me to meet them,” Pearl shares, looking uneasy.

 

“At least she’s not at your moms’...” Dominique mutters.

 

“I can go.  We can all go,” Jesus insists, and Mari and Dominique stand, too.  They’re ready. All of them.

 

“I’m sorry.  Levi just said me.  We’ll bring her back safe and sound.  I promise,” Pearl reassures.

 

When the door closes behind Pearl, Jesus has to resist the urge to slam his fist into something.  He hates feeling so damn powerless here. 

 

“Remember?” Mari asks.

 

“What?” Jesus turns.

 

“When it was you?  At the cabin? Last time?” Mariana clarifies.

 

Jesus winces.  He does remember that.  Getting stuck in his trauma outside in the snow.  Unable to move, and feeling abandoned. Until Pearl had sent Gracie out after him.  To pull him to the safety of her cabin. He’d stayed six hours, getting some much needed sleep and talking to his therapist, before he realized that his family might be missing him.

 

It was all a big misunderstanding.  

 

Moms hadn’t handled it well.

 

Mariana, in fact, was the only one who had kept her shit together enough to actually help him.

 

Jesus wonders what Fran might’ve misunderstood.  

 

And he knows that - as gut-wrenching as this is - the best thing for Fran right now is for all of them to stay put, and try to get themselves calm.

 

Jesus doesn’t want her feeling any part of what he felt, coming back in that cabin when he was sixteen.

 

\---

 

“Knock, knock?” Pearl calls, stepping into the laundry room.  She sees them immediately - or rather - Levi’s blue patent leather sneakers and Fran’s smaller ones in teal and purple.

 

Fran’s sitting so far to one side, she’s wedged in a corner, with Levi beside her.  There’s an open space, and Levi whispers to Fran. Then, he beckons Pearl forward.

 

“You gonna join, or what?” he asks, and Pearl is jarred by his casual tone.

 

Pearl gets down on the floor awkwardly, trying not to think of how many germs from who knows who’s dirty laundry live on this floor.  She grunts, scooting herself under the counter.

 

“Listen, if I’ve done something wrong…  Something to make you feel like you had to run away…” Pearl starts.

 

“I didn’t _ run away _ ,” Fran says, indignant.  “ _ You  _ said you got tired of me ‘cause I’m a lot, so I gave you a break.  Duh…” Fran mutters.

 

“Hey, hey, hey.  I know,” Levi says, sympathetic, reaching out to Fran.  He can obviously see something Pearl can’t. “But Avoiders look out for each other and keep each other safe.  So I can’t let you hurt yourself.”

 

“It’s too late,” Fran pouts.

 

“I see that, but I still can’t let you do that in front of me and not help,” Levi says.  

 

“I have to stop all the baby tears from coming out so you guys don’t still think I’m a baby…” Fran insists.

 

“No, you don’t, Francesca.  Tears don’t mean you’re a baby.  They mean you’re hurting. And it’s okay to hurt around us,” Levi assures Fran.

 

“Not to her,” Fran grumbles, glaring at Pearl through teary eyes.  “She’s probably sorry you even found me.”

 

“Fran, I didn’t say I was tired of you.  And I didn’t say you were a lot. I don’t know where you got that from…” Pearl objects.

 

“See?” Fran asks, her voice broken.  “She’s not even listening.”

 

“Pearl, please?”  Levi asks.  

 

Pearl takes a deep breath, remembering not so long ago, when Jesus or someone had talked her through just how to apologize to Levi for triggering him.  No explaining. No justifying. No excusing. Just apologize.  

 

“I’ll listen.  I promise,” Pearl says, taking another breath for a good measure.

 

“The answer Fran was looking for was no.  No, you’re not tired of her. You asked what kind of tired?  Which had her jumping to the reasonable conclusion that she  _ does _ make you  _ some kind of tired _ .  _  She _ said she was a lot, yes, but she was looking for you to tell her different.”

 

“Oh…  Fran, I’m so sorry.  That was my big, huge mistake, okay?” Pearl asks, glancing around Levi to see Fran glancing at her suspiciously.  “I never, ever want a break from you.”

 

“But you basically said you did...and you were gonna open the door for me like you thought I was a baby...when you guys just said I wasn’t a baby.  That’s confusing. And it hurt my feelings…”

 

“That makes a lot of sense, and I’m sorry I hurt your feelings,” Pearl says again.  

 

“It made me feel like you and all The Avoiders feel the exact same way Moms do about me.  That I feel like a job. And a pain. And you don’t even like me that much. That you’d rather have another person in The Avoiders, not me.”

 

“Having you in The Avoiders is part of what makes us Avoiders, Fran,” Pearl explains.  “I love you. I love you so much that my stomach? Fell down to my butt when I heard you hadn’t come inside.”

 

Fran smiles a little.  “Your stomach can’t fall down to your butt.  That would be a big problem.”

 

“I agree,” Pearl smiles gently, tears in her own eyes.  “Francesca, we thought we’d lost you. And take it from me?  We would never get over losing you. Not ever. Because we care about you so, so much.  And I am so sorry I didn’t know you were looking for reassurance. I handled that badly.”

 

“So, you’re sorry?” Fran checks.

 

“I am.  Very sorry,” Pearl says, somber.

 

“Are Jesus and Mariana and Dom okay?” Fran wonders.

 

“I’m sure they will be when they see you’re okay,” Pearl reassures.

 

“Can we go see them?” Fran asks, sliding out from under the counter.

 

“Of course we can.  If somebody can please help me up off this floor,” Pearl groans comically.  Levi extends a hand and helps her.

 

They get to the doorway of the laundry room and Levi stops abruptly.  “Fran. Wait.”

 

Fran stops.  Pearl, too.

 

“If you ever feel like we’re tired of you or need a break from you, please just let us know somehow.  If you can’t talk, and just feel like hiding out, that’s okay. But hide out in the apartment. At Jesus’s or Dom’s.  Think of a spot, and we’ll know if we find you there, you need to be reassured.”

 

“Okay...like, behind the couches?” Fran asks.

 

“Sure, that works.  You think grown Avoiders can fit behind couches?” Levi asks.

 

“If you suck it in,” Fran jokes, laughing.

 

“So, if you need to be reassured, where are you gonna hide?” Levi checks.

 

“In Jesus’s or Dom’s apartment.  Wherever we all are. Not by myself,” Fran answers, confident.

 

“Great job,” Levi tells her, smiling.  

 

“You’re really not tired of me?  Or think I’m a lot?” Fran asks, like she just can’t believe it.  

 

Pearl winces, seeing the small red mark on her arm.  “I’m really not tired of you. And I don’t think you’re a lot.  I think you’re the perfect amount of you.”

 

“That’s weird,” Fran decides.

 

They ride up the elevator together and walk to Jesus’s door.  Pearl notices Levi hanging back holding Fran’s hand.

 

Pearl steps up and knocks.  

 

\--

 

Dominique is first to the door, even though it’s Jesus’s apartment, where they’ve taken to waiting.  The minute the door opens, and Fran sees her, she runs into Dominique’s arms.

 

“I’m sorry, guys, I just got confused,” she says squeezing Dominique tightly around the neck.  “I thought you needed a break from me but now I know you didn’t. I missed you so much.”

 

“We missed you, too,” Dominique says in a tight voice.  “We’re so glad you’re safe.”

 

Fran goes to Jesus next, and he holds onto her.  Dudley even licks her. Fran asks him, “Are you mad?”  (It’s so much easier asking Dudley, because he’s always happy to see her.)

 

“No.  No way.  I’ve gotten confused, too.  We’re not mad. We don’t want you to do that again, but we’re not mad.” Jesus tells her.

 

Finally, Fran goes to Mariana and they just hold tight to each other.  Dom’s close enough to hear Fran whisper, “I thought it was like at home.  Like you guys didn’t want me.”

 

“We always want you,” Mariana insists, tears in her eyes.

 

“You do?” Fran asks.

 

“Every minute.” Mariana nods.  “Promise. Come on. Let’s fix this.”

 

And Mariana walks Fran to the bathroom to look for bandaids.

 

She’s back again.  She’s safe. But it’s gonna take Dominique a while to calm down and really take it in.


	134. Walls

Going to bed tonight feels like the world’s most monumental task.  It’s strange, because in Minnesota, her sleep-schedule is pretty predictable (a bit less so with Levi living with her now) but “early to bed, early to rise” is still her motto.  Pearl doesn’t find it difficult to drop off to sleep unless she’s been having a series of particularly awful nightmares and doesn’t want to see what happens next.

 

Here, everything is reversed.  It’s two hours earlier so everything automatically feels later.  Not to mention the fact that it’s Saturday night and the majority of The Avoiders are all about maximizing their time together.

 

When she gets back with Fran and Levi, it’s time for some realness in Feelings Time.  First, of course, Mariana takes Francesca to fix her arm, which has a pretty nasty looking pinch-mark.  Then, they give her the option to sit with them and join in Feelings Time with the option of noise-cancelling headphones.

 

“Just because I know that sometimes?  Hearing our honest thoughts about something can feel like a lot, and we want you to have an out,” Jesus tells Fran.

 

“But what if you need an out,” Fran objects.

 

“Well, I have Dudley,” Jesus insists.

 

“So...do you wanna share anything about what just happened, or no?” Jesus asks.

 

Fran shakes her head and puts the headphones on, focusing on her phone, which she’s plugged in.

 

“Anybody else?” Jesus asks.

 

“I’m pissed,” Dominique admits, her voice so low, it’s almost a whisper.  “I cannot calm down. I know she’s just a little girl and it doesn’t make any sense to be mad at her.  But she knows the history here,” by now, Dom’s whispering. “Why would she do this?”

 

“Because, I gave her the impression I was tired of her and inadvertently agreed that she was a lot.  Instead of realizing that she needed me to reassure her of the opposite,” Pearl admits.

 

“She thought since Pearl’s the oldest that...she’s some kind of influencer, I guess?  That we all would feel the same way Pearl did,” Levi points out.

 

“You remember yourself at eleven…” Mariana says gently to Dominique.

 

“Yeah, and that’s the problem,” Dominique hisses.  Roberta, who never joins in Feelings Time, jumps up into Dominique’s lap.  “I remember too much of what it’s like...and...just how easy it is…” she chokes back a sob.

 

Mariana puts an arm around her.  “I know. It sucks.”

 

“She knows not to run and hide anymore,” Levi passes along.  “I talked to her. Kind of...actually I remembered what you said to me, Dominique.  When I left y’all suddenly. You told me I didn’t have to drive away to do what I was doing.  So I told her a similar thing, and she promised if she feels like giving us a break, she’ll hide in whatever apartment we’re in.”

 

“Yeah, but what if we’re at Avoidance?” Jesus asks.

 

“She likes it under the table,” Mariana adds.

 

“I know all this is supposed to help but it just...it doesn’t,” Dominique breathes.  “And I know it’s not fair to Fran to be angry at her for misunderstanding and acting on that...but it’s just...I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to her.”

 

“Us either,” Jesus nods.

 

“I think it’s good you talked to her,” Mariana tells Levi.  “But I think we need to talk to her, too.”

 

“I agree,” Jesus says.  “Maybe not as a whole group...but I agree.  In the meantime, though. How can we help, Dominique?”

 

“I have no idea,” Dominique admits, petting Roberta.  “I’m just done. I can’t take this. I don’t know how my parents could stand it.  She’s not even mine and it’s just…”

 

“But she kind of is,” Pearl allows, gently.  “In the way that we all belong to each other.  Right? So, it makes sense that this is difficult for you.  And, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for the part I played in this.  For not being tuned into what Fran actually needed to hear and making her feel like she had to run off.”

 

“It’s not okay…” Mariana ventures.  “But it is kind of what we do...at home.  If we’re in trouble or whatever? Moms send us away from them.  Tell us they don’t want to see us. So, we just learn to stay out of the way until someone comes.”

 

“That’s true,” Jesus nods.  “Hey, Fran?” he taps her on the shoulder, and she jumps a little.  “Sorry. Mari and I gotta talk to you for a bit,” he says, after Fran takes off the headphones.

 

\--

 

They walk across the hall to Jesus’s and Fran immediately crosses her arms.  “Pearl and Levi already talked to me, you know?”

 

“We know,” Jesus nods.  “But what happened tonight was very serious.  So we need to make sure you get that.”

 

“I do,” Fran nods.  “So...good talk!” she turns to open the door again and Jesus catches her by the hand.

 

“Francesca.  I need you to sit down with us, please,” Jesus explains, channeling all the patience of Dr. H. and Val and every safe adult he knows.

 

“No,” Fran complains.  “I already know I messed up!”

 

“Sit down,” Mariana urges, walking her over to the futon, and putting an arm around her.  “It’s gonna be okay.”

 

“No, it’s not, it’s gonna be terrible!” Fran insists.

 

“Listen, we know you didn’t do it on purpose, okay?” Jesus starts.  “And you’re not in trouble. But I need you to remember all the talks that Mari and I have had with you.  About not going off by yourself. Knowing your personal info, and our cell numbers.”

 

“What do you mean?” Fran asks.

 

“Do you remember those conversations?” Jesus asks.

 

“Yeah, but I don’t get what they have to do with right now,” Fran pouts.

 

“They have to do with right now...because it’s still not cool to go off by yourself,” Mariana puts in.

 

“But that was just for when I was four!  And, like, in elementary!” Fran objects.

 

“No,” Jesus shakes his head.  “You’re still a kid, Francesca and you can’t go off somewhere without telling one of us first.”

 

“We’re not trying to scare you,” Mariana soothes.  “But we know what can happen. You know? And we would never want that to happen to you.”

 

“You mean being kidnapped?” Fran asks bluntly.

 

“Yeah,” Mariana nods.

 

“But that didn’t happen to me.  Levi found me first,” Francesca insists.

 

“That just means you’re very lucky,” Jesus tells her honestly.  “Now, I wanna talk to you about what to say when somebody you don’t expect offers to give you a ride.”

 

“Jesus, this is so embarrassing…” Fran whines.  “I already know…”

 

“It’s okay to talk about this stuff,” he reassures.  So, let’s pretend that...Mama’s supposed to give you a ride...but I come instead.  Safe or not safe?” he quizzes.

 

“Safe,” Fran says.

 

“Why?” Mariana asks.

 

“Because Jesus is on my list of people allowed to pick me up from school,” Fran says.

 

“Right.  Awesome job,” Jesus gives her a high five.  “So, let’s say...a person you don’t know offers to give you a ride.  Says they’re Moms’ friend. Safe or not safe?” Jesus quizzes, even though his insides tighten at the example, taken so obviously from his own life.

 

“Not safe,” Fran says definitely.

 

“Very good.  What do you do?”  Maariana asks.

 

“I go back in school and wait with Connie.  Or back wherever there’s people. Actually! I shouldn’t be walking by myself at all.”

 

“Absolutely,” Jesus praises.  “So, now these are gonna get tougher.  What if it’s...Jenna.”

 

Francesca makes a face.  “Ew.”

 

“Well, what if it is?” Mariana insists.  “She _ is _ Mom’s friend.  We  _ do _ know her.  She offers you a ride home.  What do you do?”

 

“Um…” Fran hedges.  “Well, she  _ does _ know where our house is…” 

 

“Right,” Jesus nods.  “But I want you to think about safe or not safe?  When you hang around her, do you feel safe?”

 

“No,” Fran shakes her head.  “Hey, what if it’s Mr. Nesbit, though!”

 

“Think about the list of people at school,” Mariana urges.  “Who is on that list?”

 

“Moms, Jesus, Mariana, Callie, Brandon, Jude and Dominique, too.” Fran lists.

 

“Right so.  Those seven people are the ones you can get rides with.  Also, it’s probably safe if, say...Pearl is driving but you see Mariana in the car, too,” Jesus explains.

 

“So if I see any safe people in a car coming to get me I can go with them,” Francesca says.

 

“Right...but did we hear Jenna or Mr. Nesbit on that list?” Jesus asks.

 

“No.” Fran says.

 

“No.  So even though we kinda know them?  Even though they know where we live?  They’re not on that list of people. So no getting in cars with them.”

 

“I know,” Fran nods.  “So...are we done?”

 

“Almost.  If someone does get you…”

 

“Nobody’s gonna get me, Jesus.  You even said when I was nine,” Fran protests.

 

“Listen,” Mariana urges.  “This is important.”

 

“If somebody does get you.  It is not your fault. All you have to do is stay alive.  So we can find you. Do whatever the person says. Try to be their friend, even, if you can.  But know that no matter what, we won’t blame you. And we will find you. And we love you,” Jesus says, clearing his throat.

 

“Where did you learn all this?” Fran asks.

 

“Stef taught us when we were really little,” Jesus admits.

 

“Why didn’t she teach me?” Fran wonders.

 

“I think...maybe...me being gone scared her a lot.  So she didn’t want to think about it happening again?” Jesus offers, thinking about their reluctance to have Jesus share about his experience with Fran when she was in preschool.

 

“But if nobody talks to me, then how will I know what to do?” Fran asks.

 

“That’s why you have us,” Mariana insists.  “We are your safe adults. So, like tonight....even when you’re embarrassed and don’t want to talk about something?  Sometimes, it’s really good to do that, anyway. So you’ll be prepared.”

 

“And what if...like...remember back at Michael and Jaimie’s?  Or...I don’t know if you guys were there, but Pearl told me about sometimes people touch us like we don’t wanna be touched?” Fran asks, concerned.

 

“That’s right,” Mariana says.

 

“Like, who would do that?  And like how?” Fran wonders.

 

“You wanna take this, Mari?” Jesus asks.

 

“You know your swimsuit?” Mariana begins.

 

Fran giggles.  “The one with all the flowers on it?”

 

“Yeah,” Mariana nods.  “So, if anyone - a kid or a man or a woman - touches you anywhere that your swimsuit covers?  That’s private.”

 

“What if that happens?”

 

“You can say no.  You can yell. Fight.  Push their hand away,” Jesus shares.

 

“But I’m kinda puny.  What if none of that works?  Or they don’t listen to me?” Fran asks.

 

“It’s like we say, right?  If your body safety is violated by someone else, it’s on them.  Not on you. It’s safe to come and tell me or Mariana. Or send us fireworks.  Or text backup. Anything you can think to do so we know you need us.”

 

“I don’t like these talks…” Fran admits, picking at the hole in her shoe.

 

“I know, buddy.  But we need to have them with you.  It’s really important,” Jesus says. “We love you a ton and we want you to be as safe as you can be.”

 

“So no hiding in the laundry room,” Fran reviews.

 

“Excellent,” Jesus nods.

 

“But what if I just wanted to hang out there with you while you were doing laundry or something?” Fran asks.  “I know you don’t really like it there, but I do.”

 

“I’d love to have your company, buddy.  The difference is, you’d be with a safe adult.  So if a safe adult is with you? You’re good to go?  If not? Check in with one, ASAP.”

 

“Okay, I guess.  But Jesus and Mari?”

 

“Yeah?”  they both answer together and it’s the best.

 

“Moms...and Brandon...they’re on my safe pickup list from school.  But I don’t know if they’d definitely count as safe people, you know?  Like...I don’t really ever feel safe in the car with them.”

 

“I understand,” Jesus nods.

 

“So, that’s confusing,” Fran adds.

 

“It is,” Mariana nods.  

 

“I wish we could figure everything in life out,” Fran says.

 

“Me, too,” Mariana agrees.

 

\--

 

By the time Mariana and Fran are back, and Levi goes next door to Jesus’s, Pearl is ready to collapse into the couch, but not really.

 

As hard as she tries to fall asleep - and as tired as she is - the night around her just seems too alive.  And the adrenaline in her just won’t stop pumping.

 

It’s after 2 AM, when she finally falls asleep.


	135. And Still, The Darkness Comes

Francesca wakes up when it’s still dark.  She’s on Dominique’s air mattress because fire safety.  (She hadn’t really wanted to sleep in the same room as Pearl, but she did like the idea of not having to climb down a ladder in the pitch black with lots of smoke.  Just in case.)

 

It takes a minute to figure out just what woke her up.  

 

Then she hears Cleo whining.

 

No.  Not Cleo.

 

Pearl.  Crying. And sleeping at the same time.  

 

Fran feels a lot of fear rising up inside her.  Why is Pearl crying? (Can people cry in their sleep?)

 

Cleo is actually awake and trying to help Pearl, but nothing is helping.

 

Finally, Francesca hears her make this sound like a whimper, and say, “Levi…”

 

She gets up and starts walking all around.  Fran is scared to move.

 

But she texts.

 

**_Fran:_ **

_ Levi, Pearl keeps saying your name. [sad emoji] _

 

\--

 

_ For the first time in months, Pearl is face to face with her mother.  Her heart’s pounding. There’s mud everywhere. Mom won’t stop swearing and trying to clean it up. _

 

_ “Well, what are you doing?  Help me!” Mom snaps. _

 

_ Wordless, Pearl kneels on the carpet and starts scrubbing.  Gracie’s here, tail wagging. Whining at the closed bathroom door. _

 

_ “Is someone here?” Pearl asks, feeling her insides sink. _

 

_ Mom just keeps cleaning.  It’s weirdly normal. _

 

_ The house is as she remembers it.  Tan carpet. Linoleum in the entryway.  Her eyes follow the mud away from them and toward the stairs. _

 

_ She can see footprints. _

 

_ “Who else is here, Mom?” Pearl asks. _

 

_ Her answer is a stinging slap to the face. _

 

_ “I’m so fucking tired of your questions,” Mom snaps, impatient.  “You’re the one who left me alone to deal with his little shit!” _

 

_ “His…. _ Dad’s _?  You told me Dad was dead…” Pearl says, stunned. _

 

_ “I never said that,” Mom denies. _

 

_ Gracie pushes the bathroom door open, behind Mom, while she’s busy cleaning.  Comes out with a little boy, who looks a little like her, and a lot like Dad. He looks shy.  He can’t be more than eight years old. Mud caked on his jeans. His shirt. His hands. _

 

_ “What’s your name?” Pearl whispers. _

 

_ “Levi,” the boy whispers.  “I know who you are. You’re Pearl.” _

 

_ “I am.  Let’s get out of here,” Pearl decides, taking Levi’s hand.  It’s ice cold in hers. She doesn’t mind the mud. “Gracie,” she calls. _

 

_ Gracie trots over and they start for the front door.  But Mom is there, in front of it, arms crossed. “Where do you think you’re going?” she asks. _

 

_ Pearl tries the basement door, but the knob won’t turn.  In fact, the same is true of every door. It’s all Pearl can do to keep Levi behind her.  To try to keep Mom away from them both. _

 

_ In a bold move, Mom darts around Pearl and grabs Levi roughly by an arm, jerking him to her.  Pulling him back toward the bathroom. _

 

_ He breaks down, sobbing. _

 

_ “No!  Please, I’m sorry!  Pearl, help me!” _

 

_ Mom shoves him inside.  She goes, too. Locking the door behind them. _

 

_ Pearl finds Dad’s number in her cell phone and calls.  An automated voice says this number is no longer in service.  She keeps trying, and screaming, and Levi’s screaming, and Gracie’s whining. _

 

_ She can’t get to him. _

 

\--

 

Levi gets Fran’s text, and explains to Jesus, the lightest sleeper in the world, that he might need to go next door.

 

He’s in the hall, blinking in the harsh lighting, when he realizes he has no key to Dominique’s, and more than that?  No consent to go inside, even. There’s nothing scarier than someone you don’t expect barging into your place in the middle of the night.

 

He bites his lip.  Hears a commotion on the other side of the door.

 

When it’s pulled open all at once, Levi’s stunned when Pearl runs into him.  

 

“Levi…”  she’s saying, just like Fran said.  “I need to get Levi…”

 

“Pearl…  Hey. It’s me.  It’s Levi. I’m okay,” he says, giving her space but also kind of blocking her, too.  He feels bad, but if she’s sleepwalking, then she’s not aware of what she’s doing or if there’s real danger.

 

He has to repeat himself a few times.  Cleo yips a little at Pearl’s heels.

 

It’s this that finally brings her around.  She blinks, looks stunned and falls into his shoulder, sobbing.  “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

 

“Hey...I’m okay.  I promise,” Levi sticks his head inside to talk to Francesca.  “Pearl, Cleo and I are gonna go talk. She’ll be back in a bit,” he reassures.

 

\--

 

Well, that pretty much means Francesca is never going back to sleep.  

 

It’s the scariest thing when adults cry.  And now, she’s all alone, without Cleo, even.

 

She feels around for Slothy but can’t find him.  This is the worst.

 

Now, Francesca really might cry.

 

\--

 

Pearl wakes up fully, sitting in the lobby.  Cleo’s in her lap and Levi’s here. There’s a can of 7Up in her hand.

 

“What?” she asks, confused.

 

“You were having a nightmare,” Levi shrugs.  “Fran said you were saying my name, so I thought I’d come by.”

 

Pearl’s face crumbles.  The dream is back, full force.

 

“I was dreaming I came home that day she hurt you.  She was all upset and wanted my help but wouldn’t let me ask any questions.  Gracie was with me...and she knew you were there, too. She found you. I asked your name and you said you already knew who I was.  I tried to get us out but every door was locked…”

 

Levi shivers a little.

 

“God, I’m sorry, I’m still half-asleep and I’m not thinking.  Clearly. The last thing you want to hear about is this awful nightmare.”

 

“I wanna be here,” Levi offers.  “I wanted you to know I was safe.  I just hoped I wouldn’t scare you. I know some nightmares...I’m not exactly the person you wanna see.  But I figured since you were saying my name, it might be a safe bet.”

 

“Did Fran wake you?  I mean, did I? Did we?” Pearl asks.

 

“No.  It’s okay.  I was up. You know me.  I keep late hours...like a bat,” he grins a little.

 

“You are not like a bat…” Pearl laughs, in spite of herself.  Soon enough, the laughter gives way to more inelegant sobbing.

 

“What is it?” he asks.

 

“Everything,” she sniffs as Cleo licks her face.  “I wish I’d been able to keep you safe. To get you out of there.  I feel awful about freaking Francesca out earlier and then freaking all of us out by extension.”

 

“Wanna talk about it?” Levi asks.

 

“It’s not fair to you,” Pearl objects.

 

“What’s not fair is deciding for me,” Levi points out diplomatically.  “We all have the right to choose what we can handle. Right?”

 

Pearl nods.  “I just...I have to mention her.  In order to talk about this. Is that okay?”

 

“As long as I know going in,” Levi nods.

 

“So, in the dream...she was saying some of the same things I’d said to Fran.  But like, more bluntly, if possible. I was my age now, but it still made me feel so insignificant.  So worthless. And I’d hate it if...that part of her were somehow inside me? That I’m treating you guys the same way she treated me?  Not breaking the cycle but unknowingly continuing it. I don’t want to be like her, but I’m...terrified.”

 

“Why?” Levi asks, concerned.

 

“Because….what if it’s inevitable?  Genetics? Or my birthright or something?” Pearl sobs.

 

“Can I sit next to you?” Levi asks, having pulled a chair incrementally closer, across from Pearl, just as she had done previously for him.

 

She nods.

 

“Biology’s definitely a factor,” Levi says, reseating himself beside her.  “So is environment. But so is  _ choice, _ ” he says.  “You’re choosing to work on yourself.  And you care if you hurt people. That’s a major difference, too.”

 

“Really?  You’re not just saying this to make me feel better?” Pearl asks, blowing her nose.

 

“Really.  Don’t forget you get half your DNA from Dad, too.  And he was pretty great,” Levi reassures.

 

“I genuinely wish he cancelled her out,” Pearl grumbles.

 

“Well, who says he can’t?” Levi asks.  “Who says you can’t lean into your Dad genes and just keep trying to do whatever the next right thing is?”

 

“I suppose,” Pearl lets out a shaky breath, lying her head on Levi’s shoulder.  “You’re so smart…”

 

“Thank you?” Levi smiles a little.  “It’s gonna be okay. That’s what Dad always said,  _ “It’s gonna be all fine again.  You’ll see.” _

 

“Thank you,” Pearl sniffs.

 

“For what?” Levi wonders.

 

“For remembering him for me.”

 

\--

 

**_Fran:_ **

_ Buddy hey are you awake? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Yeah.  What’s up?  You okay? _

 

**_Fran:_ **

_ No, Pearl was asleep and crying and walking around and talking all at one time!  It was scary! _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ I’m sorry.  Good thinking getting Levi, though. _

 

**_Fran:_ **

_ Well, she was talking about him. _

 

**_Fran:_ **

_ I can’t sleep ever again. _

 

**_Fran:_ **

_ Just so you know. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ It can be hard to go back to sleep after something scary wakes you up. _

 

**_Fran:_ **

_ Did something scary ever do it to you? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ You know Mariana used to sleepwalk, right? _

 

**_Fran:_ **

_ I know YOU did. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Well, she did. _

 

**_Fran:_ **

_ Because your twins. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Sure, let’s go with that. _

 

**_Fran:_ **

_ Also, Jude grinds his teeth and that sounds scary.  Like aliens! _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Okay, let’s talk about good things, though. _

 

**_Fran:_ **

_ I can’t find Slothy [sad emoji] _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Did he make it back from the laundry room? _

 

**_Fran:_ **

_ Yes, I would not leave him there! _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Okay, okay.  Check by your pillow?  Under your pillow? On the floor?  In your blankets? _

 

**_Fran:_ **

_ Got him! _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Great.  Good night, buddy. _

 

**_Fran:_ **

_...Hey buddy? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ What’s up, buddy?  (You really gotta try to go to sleep soon.  Promise?) _

 

**_Fran:_ **

_ (Yes, but question first) _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ One.   _

 

**_Fran:_ **

_ I don’t like doing Safe or Not Safe. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ I heard you say that earlier.  Makes you uncomfortable, huh? _

 

**_Fran:_ **

_ Yes bc its like I’m going to fail a test, except this test is life.  And if I fail then… Then it’s just the worst. _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Did you wanna ask me a question? _

 

**_Fran:_ **

_ Tell me about when Moms told you about what to do in Safe or Not Safe?  So that way it can kind of be like they told me, to. How old were you? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Mariana and I were in kindergarten.  Brandon was in first grade. It was a little different than the talk Mari and I had with you.  We weren’t asked anything. Oh, except what we wanted our safe word to be. _

 

**_Fran:_ **

_ Junior Mints, right? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Right. _

 

**_Fran:_ **

_ Can I have a safe word?  So if I say it you and The Avoiders can know I’m in danger and come and get me? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ I think that’s a good idea.  What do you want it to be? _

 

**_Fran:_ **

_ SLOTH!  No, Mountain Dew! _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ You’re on the right track.  Those are all things you talk about a lot in regular life.  We need a word that’s like a code. That sounds really casual, but if you asked us about it specifically, we’d know what it meant. _

 

**_Fran:_ **

_ Like...Zootopia? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Okay, that’s awesome.  So what you do is....you work that into a really casual sentence: “Are you guys watching Zootopia?”  Or, “Remember the first time I saw Zootopia?” _

 

**_Fran:_ **

_ “What’s your favorite sloth in Zootopia?” _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ Yes.  You got it.  Okay. Now, I really need you to go to sleep, buddy. _

 

**_Fran:_ **

_ Wait.  Do you think Moms didn’t talk to me about Safe or Not Safe because they don’t care about me? _

 

**_Jesus:_ **

_ I can really see why it would feel like that.  I hope it’s not true. And Mariana and I love you and care about you very much and that is absolutely why we do Safe or Not Safe with you.  I love you tons. Go to sleep please. Levi’s back. _

 

**_Fran:_ **

_ So is Pearl and Cleo.  Night, buddy, I love you tons to. _

 

\--

 

“Pearl?” Fran whispers in the dark.

 

“Yes?”

 

“You can sleep with Slothy, if you want…” Fran offers.

 

“That’s alright.  I have Grumpy Bear...and Cleo.  I should be okay,” Pearl whispers back.  “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

 

“You did.  But are you mad that I got Levi?” Fran asks, yawning.

 

“Levi was the exact person I needed.  Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Fran snuggles down under the covers with Slothy.  

 

She makes up as many casual-safe sentences with  _ Zootopia _ in them as she can, whispering them to Slothy.  

 

It kind of makes her heart beat fast, but she finally does fall asleep for real.


	136. Fix You Up

It’s 6 AM, Sunday morning, the first time Jesus tries to wake Levi up.

 

It doesn’t go well.

 

Jesus taps on the door.

 

“What?” Levi complains.

 

“I wanted to get a move on.  Still wanna help with railing stuff?” he asks.

 

“I seriously just went to bed two hours ago.  Can’t we wait, please?” Levi begs.

 

“I mean...do you still want to?  I can go myself…” Jesus offers, unsure if Levi wants to bail on all of it and is just too polite to say so.

 

“No.  I mean, yes.  I want to. But I literally cannot function right now.  Just wait.” Levi whines.

 

“For, like, how long?  Because I wanted to get it in and done early.  We’d have less chance running into them…” Jesus points out.

 

“It’s still dark out, man.  Please. We won’t even be able to see what we’re doing…”  Levi stops talking. He’s just an unmoving lump on the air mattress under tons of blankets.

 

“Alright.  Sorry,” Jesus apologizes.  He heads back out to the futon.  Grabs some lavender oil and tries to unwind again.  Dudley’s right here, breathing dog-breath in his face, happy as can be.

 

“We don’t have to get up at 6:00 anymore,” Jesus whispers to Dudley.  “Levi’s a smart dude. Now let’s see if a miracle happens and I can get more sleep…” Jesus yawns hugely - a good sign.

 

\--

 

Levi hears a tap on his door and opens one eye to check his phone.  8:30 AM. What the hell does Jesus want? It’s so early.

 

“Seriously, what?” Levi grumbles.

 

“Can I come in?” Jesus asks.

 

“I guess.  What do you want?” Levi can’t even summon the extra energy it would take to be polite right now.  It’s too early for that.

 

“So…” Jesus comes in, with a plate loaded with eggs, bacon and toast.  He hands it to Levi. “Breakfast. Your tea’s on the table.”

 

Levi just stares at it.  “It’s Sunday,” is all he says.

 

“Yeah, and the sun’s up, now, dude.  I went back to sleep for two more hours,” Jesus is proud of this, obviously.  “And now? Daylight. Just like you wanted.”

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about…” Levi admits.

 

“Oh.  I tried to wake you up at 6:00.  But you were like, ‘Dude, we need to wait til the sun’s up to put the railing in.’  So…” Jesus smiles. “Are you up?”

 

“I guess I’m up,” Levi sighs, crunching on some bacon.  God, it’s good. Salty. Sweet. Not fatty. It almost makes up for the fact that he’s gotten no sleep.

 

The promise of tea entices Levi out of bed.  He drains it and quickly decides that it won’t be enough.

 

“Do you have chocolate syrup?” Levi calls.

 

Jesus sticks his head out of the bathroom.  “Yeah. Ice cream for breakfast?” he jokes.

 

“Not quite,” Levi manages a smile back.  He picks out a K-cup labeled Breakfast Blend and puts it into Jesus’s Keurig, a cup ready underneath.  It brews in seconds.

 

Then, Levi squirts liberal amounts of Hershey’s syrup into the coffee and stirs, until it tastes just it did when Dad used to make it for him.  He sits down and finishes the eggs and toast, the yolk is deliciously runny and he absorbs it with toast, and with the chocolate coffee? Well, it’s an almost perfect start to the day.

 

“Dude, don’t forget to pee before we go,” Jesus says, coming out of the bathroom with his toolbox.  Levi doesn’t ask.

 

“Okay, I’m trying not to be offended here, but I haven’t heard that sentence since I was, like, four.” Levi points out, sipping his coffee again for a good measure.  It still has the same effect on him it did when he was young. Making him feel grown.

 

“Sorry.  I meant here,” Jesus says, clarifying nothing.

 

“What?” Levi’s beyond confused.

 

“You wanted to go here, so you didn’t have to go there, right?  At Stef and Lena’s,” Jesus reminds.

 

“Oh.  Right,” Levi nods, draining the coffee and stopping off to use the bathroom.  He brushes his teeth, but that’s as far as he gets before Jesus is calling for him to get a move on.

 

“I wanna get to the store while we’re young,” he jokes.

 

“I don’t know what your deal is.  I’m always gonna be young,” Levi grins over his shoulder.

 

“Ha ha,” Jesus says dryly.  “Do you hear this, Dudley?” Jesus asks.

 

Dudley makes a noise that’s weirdly conversational.

 

And Levi almost comments on it but he has to focus.  Get done in here, so they can get done there, and get the hell out.

 

Levi wipes his face on the hand towel and then grabs a hat and some shades.  He doesn’t usually go out looking rumpled in a wrinkled tee shirt and sweats.  He grabs a hoodie at the last second, too, and puts it on. Levi doesn’t wanna be looking too put together when he goes over there.  Better he look kinda sloppy and have Stef and Lena keep their distance.

 

\--

 

After a quick trip to Walmart to pick up an InstantRail, Jesus is on his way to Stef and Lena’s.

 

“So, listen, I remember what you said about not wanting to be alone here.  You won’t be. I texted Moms to let them know we’ll be doing repairs out front.  Not to come out til we’re done.”

 

“Do you really think they’ll listen?” Levi asks, skeptical.

 

“If they do come out, I’m gonna toss you my keys.  You go to the car. Get in and lock the doors. I’ll be there ASAP and we’ll get out of there.  Does that work for you?” Jesus asks.

 

“Wow...you really thought about all this…” Levi whispers, impressed.

 

“Dude, of course I did.  We’re Avoiders. And bros.  Brovoiders!” Jesus gets a big grin on his face.  “Dude! Did you hear that! We’re Bro--!”

 

“No.  You’re as bad as Pearl with the corny stuff!” Levi laughs.

 

“Ouch,” Jesus jokes.  “I know...it’s just a thing Isaac and I used to do.  It’s whatever.”

 

Levi winces.  “Oh. I didn’t know.  We can be Brovoiders.”

 

“We were, like, eleven.  Probably time to grow out of it anyway, right?” Jesus says.  “How is Pearl, by the way?”

 

“She’s alright,” Levi allows.  “Fran?”

 

“Okay, too.  Hoping Mari and Dom just slept through the whole thing…” Jesus ventures, pulling up in front 2330 Villa Mariposa.  

 

It’s brown.  Looks super homey.  Levi still scopes it out thoroughly before getting out of the car.

 

“I’m gonna stay right next to you,” Jesus promises.  “I’d never ditch you here. No matter what. If there was any kind of emergency thing, you’d come, too.”

 

“What if...I don’t know...I couldn’t find my shoes?” Levi asks, nervous.

 

Jesus glances at Levi’s feet, in sneakers.  “Uh...if it was really an emergency, we wouldn’t stop to worry about shoes.  You’d come barefoot. So...we good? You ready?”

 

“I guess,” Levi blows out a breath.

 

\--

 

Turns out, Levi’s basically Mr. Fix-It.  Jesus doubts there’s anything this kid tries that he’s  _ not  _ naturally good at.  It would be annoying if he weren’t such a solid friend.

 

Jesus is mostly giving suggestions and handing off tools.  He still doesn’t have a major tolerance for tools in general - he has to put his headphones on while Levi drills - but they make a good team anyway.

 

Levi waves to get Jesus’s attention.  Jesus moves one headphone a bit. “What?”

 

“Just checking one more time if you’re absolutely sure this is where you want the railing.  Most stairs have it one side or the other.”

 

“I know, but Fran’s a lefty and Mari’s right-handed.  I want them both to be able to be safe whether they’re going up or down.” Jesus explains.

 

“Okay.  I’m gonna go for it,” Levi nods.  

 

He waits for Jesus’s nod before he starts drilling.  Jesus holds onto Dudley and tries not to think of hearing Him drilling to bolt chains to the floor in the room Jesus stayed in There.

 

Dudley licks Jesus’s cheek.

 

“Yeah, I know,” Jesus nods.  “We’re helping Mari and Fran.  So this is way different, right?”

 

Levi’s finally done drilling and Jesus couldn’t be more glad.

 

The time goes by fast, and Jesus regularly checks his texts at Levi’s request to make sure Moms haven’t texted back.

 

They haven’t.

 

Before Jesus knows it, two hours have passed, and....

 

“We’re done,” Levi announces, brushing his hands off.  He walks up and down the steps, hanging onto the railing, making sure it’s sturdy.

 

Jesus tries it, for a good measure.  “Dude, this is so solid. You did an awesome job.  Thank you. It would’ve taken me hours to do this.”

 

“No problem,” Levi shrugs, smiling.  “I’m glad to help. I’m gonna go put the toolbox back...and then maybe we can get going?”

 

“Sure.  Just let me give it a once-over.  Make sure we don’t leave anything behind,” Jesus says, Dudley at his side.

 

He’s checked the steps and the yard for rogue screws.  Doesn’t find any.  

 

Out of habit, Jesus checks his phone.  Nothing from Moms. But there is a Polo from Mari and Fran.

 

“Hey.  Mari said you guys were doing a surprise railing for us!” Fran gushes.  “Can you take video so we can see?”

 

“I wanna see, too,” Mari adds.

 

So, Jesus records from a ways away, walking up one side of the railing and down the other, so they can see it from all sides.  He holds on to show them it’s not going to move around if they grab it.

 

“God, I love you guys so much,” Mariana enthuses.

 

“Levi did most of it,” Jesus shrugs.

 

“Still…” Fran butts in on their Polo back.  “You guys had to go to a railing store and buy it and stuff.  How much does it cost? I have $15 I saved up! I’ll pay you back for it!  For putting in the best railing that both of us can use with any hand we need to!”

 

He’s so not about to tell Fran their railing was $240.  That he dipped into his savings for it. It’s like he told Mari.  They shouldn’t have to pay for accommodations the rest of them get for free.

 

“Keep your money, Fran,” he says.  “Levi and I are heading back now.”

 

\--

 

Levi’s just put the toolbox in the car, when he hears the front door of the house open.

 

“Head’s up!” Jesus calls.

 

Levi doesn’t think.  He just unlocks the front passenger seat and gets in, pressing the automatic door lock behind him.

 

Stef is there, hands on hips, surveying the yard like she’s bored.

 

\--

 

Jesus just waits, while Stef stands here, cup of coffee in hand.  She must’ve gotten the texts he sent earlier about coming by to do repairs.

 

“We’re done.  Railing’s in,” Jesus offers finally.  Needing to say something.

 

Stef just sips her coffee.  Doesn’t even glance his way.  She sounds beyond uninterested when she says, “Yup.”

 

There’s the longest, most awkward pause ever.  Jesus feels rooted to the spot, not quite believing that Stef is refusing to comment at all on this thing they did.  He’d almost rather she start yelling at him. Almost.

 

“So you’re still not gonna apologize for last night, huh?” Stef asks, regarding him over her cup.

 

God damn it.  Jesus is so over this.  “Are  _ you _ ?” he demands.  

 

Stef says nothing, of course, and finally, Jesus turns to leave.

 

“You know how upset we get!  Lena can’t even look at you right now.  Jesus!” Stef calls at his retreating back.

 

Jesus gets to the car, and Levi unlocks it.  

 

Just like that, they’re gone.

 

\--

 

“Mariana and Fran love the railing,” Jesus passes along, after driving for a minute or so.

 

“Did  _ she _ ?” Levi asks.

 

“I don’t care if she likes it or not,” Jesus insists.  “It’s not  _ for  _ her.”

 

Dudley sticks his head between them from between the seats.

 

“Yes?” Levi asks.

 

Dudley sniffs him.

 

“He thinks you smell like bacon,” Jesus passes along.

 

“And who’s fault is that?” Levi grins in spite of himself.  In spite of his racing heart. “Jesus made the bacon,” Levi whispers to Dudley, who smiles.

 

It’s beyond relieving.

 

He didn’t get left.

 

They’re going home together.  Just like Jesus promised.


	137. Nothing Left To Lose

Stef stays outside, watching, until Jesus’s car is out of sight.  Until she’s positive that he’s not going to have second thoughts, and turn around, and give his mom a hug.

 

She sighs, finally relenting and going inside.  Lena comes downstairs in her pajamas. “Who’s outside?”

 

“No one, love.  I mean, Jesus was here.  With the kid from last night…” Stef stretches and sighs.

 

Lena’s checking her phone.  “Wait. What kind of repairs?” she asks, apparently just now receiving Jesus’s texts.

 

“Come and see,” Stef invites, opening the front door.  Stef makes herself comfortable on the porch swing with a blanket.  Lena curls up next to her with a cup of coffee. It’s almost the perfect morning.

 

“A railing…” Lena observes.  “Wow.”

 

“Yep.  Right in the middle of the front steps.  Big eyesore. Aren’t you proud of him?” Stef balks, annoyed.  (No one installs a railing in the middle of the stairs. Really.  Jesus should know that.)

 

“Honey, come on…” Lena urges.  “He put in a railing. For Frankie and Mariana.  That means they’re coming back.”

 

“Well, of course they’re coming back, Lena.  They’re our kids. Frankie’s still a minor. They can’t live with him forever.”

 

“Stef.  We’re not on trial here.  Will you relax, please?” Lena asks.

 

“Sorry.  I just… I can’t get over last night.  I mean, we’re still getting hate about the so-called photo-controversy.  I still can’t believe the news picked it up.”

 

“Well, like it or not, Jesus is a big name, now,” Lena remarks.  “He keeps such a low public profile everyone’s curious about anything that involves him.  And...I don’t know...I’ve been thinking...maybe my mom’s right?”

 

“Dana?  What’s she got to do with this?” Stef asks.

 

“Well, we talked a lot about that after it happened.  And I’ve found pictures of me where I didn’t look particularly happy.  Nate tormenting me. That kind of thing. And the last thing I would want is for my mom to share those publicly on my birthday.”

 

“You were celebrating them,” Stef objects.  “There’s nothing wrong with that at all. You were celebrating their journeys.  That’s what parents do.”

 

“With good milestones, though,” Lena points out.  

 

“What?” Stef asks.

 

“Well, my mom shared photo albums with me.  And there are personal ones. Ones that included my recovery from getting my tonsils out.  Unhappy family photos. And all the rest. But at my high school graduation? Those were strictly photos where they were proud of me.  Mom said because my grad party was very public and in front of our family and all my friends, it was important that I felt good about myself that day.  And I did,” Lena shares.

 

“And we did give Callie that lecture on discretion with her photography,” Stef admits.  “Damn. I always thought being a parent meant we got to do whatever we wanted.”

 

“I know,” Lena agrees.  “And it’s been hard...having no time to ourselves.  Between work and bills and home...not to mention Frankie and Mariana…”

 

“Not to mention them,” Stef nods.  “I know it’s not polite to say, but it has been nice around here lately.  Quiet. Kinda reminds me of what we’ll have to look forward to in several years, when Frankie’s out of the house.”

 

“Did you know Jesus was triggered by pizza?” Lena asks.

 

“No idea.  He never said a word about it.  Can you believe that? If something was that big a deal, you’d think he’d say something.  He has no trouble standing up for other people,” Stef remarks, draining her coffee.

 

“Their reactions last night….  They were over the top, right?” Lena asks.

 

Stef nods.  “I mean, we had a key.  What we were doing wasn’t illegal.  I’d know. Besides, I used to walk into my parents’ house all the time.  They’d say ‘Make yourself at home...’ she trails off.

 

“What?” Lena asks.

 

“Nothing.  I was just thinking...that if my parents showed up in my house with no warning...I’d be mad as hell.”

 

“Would you?  Really?” Lena asks.  “I guess I’ve always gotten along well with my dad.  Mom, not so much. But I don’t think it would bother me.”

 

“My mother is such a busybody, and Dad just...he never  _ got _ me.  He’d go to bat for any other kid in the neighborhood.  I know for a fact he unofficially kept an eye on Jared What’s-His-Name after what happened in ‘99.  To make sure what Pearl said happened never happened again.” Stef frowns.

 

“Really?” Lena asks, surprised.

 

“Yup,” Stef says casually.  “And I’m not an asshole. I’m glad Dad was looking out for Pearl…”

 

“But he couldn’t be bothered to really look out for you,” Lena fills in, knowing.

 

“Well, it is what it is, right?  We can’t change the past,” Stef insists, and Lena knows she’s trying to distance herself from the pain.

 

“No, we can’t.  But I think the kids are saying...they don’t feel like we get them.  And history repeats itself, Stef.”

 

“What are you saying?  I’m gonna end up old, cranky and alone like Frank?” Stef asks.

 

“No, I’m saying...let’s really use this time we have.  Let’s utilize that workshop as the tool it is to try to change things,” Lena appeals.

 

“Who says things have to change?” Stef argues, glaring at the railing.

 

“Are you really happy right now, Stef?” Lena asks.

 

“Of course, I’m not happy, Lena.  But what can we do?” Stef asks, at the end of her rope.

 

\--

 

Lena considers this.  She knows Stef probably doesn’t mean for her to, but Lena can’t help but love a challenge.  So, she mulls the question: What can they do to make their family better?

 

“What’s one thing you’d be willing to live with if we changed it?  With regard to how we’re approaching the kids?” Lena asks.

 

“Give them space.  Let them come to us,” Stef says.

 

Lena nods.  “So, let’s work on that for now.  We’ve got the workshop coming up. And then…”

 

“And then, what, love?” Stef asks.

 

“Sorry.  I know we always say if we ever get the chance to be kid-free, we’d check in with each other and not spend every moment discussing parenting but...there’s so much parenting.  What do I do about Frankie?” Lena laments.

 

“What do you mean?” Stef asks.

 

“Her and Timothy!  We haven’t gotten anything resolved because Jesus and Mariana keep blocking me at every turn…  I’m not proud of what I did. I’d very much like to avoid it in the future. But I have no idea what to do if she brings him up again.  God. Why is it like this? All the rest of them have bio parents...but with Frankie it feels so...?”

 

“Personal?” Stef asks.

 

“Yes!” Lena insists.  “I know it’s considered taboo to discuss but...it does.”

 

“It’s different.  People don’t like to admit it.  Out of fear or whatever. But it is different when they’re yours.  When they...come from you. I have a connection with Brandon that...I don’t have with the rest of the kids.  It’s not that I don’t love them. It’s just that it took time.”

 

“But it’s different with you and Brandon.  Mike is in his life, yes. But it’s amicable.  We all agree, Brandon has three parents. But Frankie has us.  Period. What am I supposed to do now that she not only knows who her biological father is, but also knows that he works at Anchor Beach and she goes there and sees him every day?  What if she just keeps asking questions? Or writing her name like that?” Lena blinks back tears.

 

“Then, we explain again that when she’s eighteen, she’s more than welcome to contact him, and vice versa.  But until then, the issue is closed.” Stef says.

 

“But she knows the rest of the kids didn’t have to wait.  I know her, Stef. She’ll latch onto that and never let go.” Lena objects.

 

“So, let her,” Stef says.  “Just don’t back down. We are her parents.  She has to know that. She has to respect that.  And Timothy has to respect that.”

 

Lena exhales long and deep.  “I just...feel so out of my depth with them.  I always wanted kids. Wanted to help. But I...I wasn’t prepared.  People tell you the feel-good stories with the happy ending. You adopt children from foster care and you’re automatically hailed a good parent.  They fit right in. Get along.”

 

“They don’t say these issues might never go away.  This kid might get kidnapped. That one might crash her car,” Stef lists.

 

“And...you know how long I wanted a baby of my own…  But all I knew about babies was from babysitting, and friends’ kids, and Brandon.  And he was five by the time we met. Anytime I asked you about childbirth, you told me you’d blocked it out.  That the pregnancy was normal. I was counting on normal. How many parents do we hear say, ‘As long as it’s healthy?’” Lena asks rhetorically.

 

“Honey, what can we do about it?  We got the kids we got,” Stef points out.  “Just like we didn’t get to cherry-pick the ones from foster care, Frankie came how she came…”

 

“I know...it’s just...I thought they would all be like Brandon,” Lena admits.

 

Stef smiles proudly.  “Brandon is pretty damn perfect.  I love that boy. But we don’t have six Brandons running around in the world, unfortunately…”

 

“I know....” Lena sighs.  “And then… It’s unfair, but...I was kind of counting on her looking like me.  Because I can look at Brandon and see so much of you. Callie and Jude look just like Colleen.  Mariana and Jesus, like it or not, resemble Ana. But Frankie...she doesn’t look like me. Things are hard for her that have come so easy for me.  I wanted to be a biological mother because I wanted to see myself reflected back in someone’s face. I didn’t have that with my sibling. I don’t have that in this family.”

 

“Who do you think she looks like?” Stef asks, curious.

 

“This is gonna sound awful.  And I know that. I’m admitting it up front.  But when I see Frankie? I don’t see her looking like me or Timothy, particularly.  I see symptoms.”

 

“She’s taking after the twins,” Stef points out.  “She’s got their mannerisms.”

 

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” Lena breathes.  “The last thing I need is my eleven-year-old thinking that I’m some kind of Disney villain.”

 

“Disney villains aren’t that bad, Lena…” Stef objects.

 

“Have you seen a Disney movie lately?” Lena asks, incredulous.  “They’re not  _ good _ .”  She pauses.  “Do you think we’re good parents?”

 

“I think...we are doing the best we can…” Stef says, putting an arm around Lena.  “So, we’ll go to the workshop, and what? Try to keep an open mind? So that our kids don’t keep running away from us.”

 

“That’d be a good start,” Lena nods.

 

“I can’t stop imagining myself running smack into that damn railing…” Stef rants.

 

“Would you stop?” Lena argues, laughing.  “It’s there. Think of how handy it’ll be when we’re old…”

 

“Hmm,” Stef considers this.  “I guess you’re right. And by then, we’ll probably be used to veering left or right…”  She kisses Lena on the head. “I miss talking to you.”

 

“I miss talking to  _ you _ .  And not worrying about who’s where or who might overhear and have their feelings hurt.  Sometimes moms just need to vent.” Lena agrees.

 

“So...I guess...Jesus and his friend saved us a little time...a little money...and a little elbow grease.  I can’t be too mad about that,” Stef closes her eyes.

 

“It is nice that they look out for each other,” Lena admits.

 

“It is,” Stef kisses her again.  On the mouth this time. “A little breathing room for us is not a bad thing.”

 

“Agreed,” Lena nods, kissing her back.

 

It reminds Lena of those weekends when they just had Brandon but he was with Mike.  Long, lazy mornings drinking coffee and reading the paper. Sleeping in. Just being.

 

Sometimes, Lena forgets who she is these days.  She’s so focused on being a mom. But Stef is always there to remind her.


	138. Walk Me Home

Sunday mornings are famously, deliciously lowkey around here.  Jaimie and Michael hang out in their PJs. Michael makes breakfast (which, he hasn’t gotten to yet, because they slept in.)

 

Jaimie’s favorite part of the day is when they just lie in bed and talk to each other, like they’ve been doing today.  This is needed. There’s been distance between them the last couple days. And their trust is a little dented.

 

But they’re also worth it.  Like Michael’s always quoting from that famous moment in  _ Lord of the Rings _ \- good is always worth fighting for - or something.  Michael’s the Tolkien expert in the house, not her.

 

Their conversation has wound around all kinds of ways, but eventually it comes back to the matter at hand.

 

“I just...can’t have you putting hands on me ‘cause you want to…” Jaimie says.  “Reminds me too much of…”

 

“When we weren’t in touch?” Michael fills in kindly.

 

“Yeah,” Jaimie nods.

 

There was a gap in them knowing each other.  Met in first grade. Got reacquainted in high school.  And in between? Life happened. Michael knows about it a bit.  Dominique knows more. (Only in recent years has Jaimie started opening up to her a bit more, knowing that Dom is her daughter, not her therapist.  It just helps not feeling so alone.)

 

“Jaim, I’m sorry.  I promise you, I will do my best to never do it again.  You matter to me. Your trust in me is something I take very seriously.” Michael says.  He’s left plenty of space in the bed, between them, though she has it on good authority that he loves to be close.

 

“I appreciate that,” Jaimie nods.  She leans over to kiss him softly. “Oh, babe.  We gotta brush our teeth.”

 

“Not until we eat.  What do you feel like?  Eggs?” he says, sliding out of bed.

 

Her cell phone rings and she picks it up.  “Hey, Dominique. What’s up? Babe, Dom wants to know if we want to join them for brunch?”

 

“Ooh, perfect timing, Dom,” Michael exclaims, “Where are we going?”

 

Jaimie listens.  “She says they wanna show Pearl and Levi the grilled cheese place.”

 

“Ooh, I love the grilled cheese place,” Michael grins.  “Tell her we’ll meet them there in a bit.”

 

“Dom?  We’ll meet y’all.  Yes, Dad knows it’s not actually called the grilled cheese place.  Love you. Bye.”

 

\--

 

“What should I wear to grilled cheese?” Fran asks, looking through all of her shirts from Grams.  Even though it’s Sunday, and she can wear her Franny pack, she still likes her shirt options anyways.

 

“What mood are you in?” Pearl wonders, fixing up the couch.

 

“Hmmm….  Yellow?” she asks, holding out her  _ Shine Bright _ shirt.

 

“Yellow sounds nice.  What about these blue jean leggings with it?” Pearl asks.

 

“Ooh, blue and yellow, yes!” Fran cheers.

 

“Mom and Dad are coming,” Dominique calls from her room.

 

“Yes!” Fran cheers.  She’s trying to find socks, when Pearl pats the couch next to her.

 

“I’ll help you find socks.  I just...wanted to check in with you.  I know I gave you a message yesterday that hurt your feelings.”

 

“Yeah,” Fran nods.  “That was an accidental message?” Fran double-checks.

 

“It was.  A totally accidental message.  I’m very sorry. I don’t think you’re too much at all.  And I’ve never been tired of you.”

 

“Never?” Fran asks, incredulous.

 

“Not once,” Pearl promises.  “So, are you feeling okay?”

 

Fran shrugs.  “I guess. But I am still kind of scared.”

 

“You are?  Why?” Pearl asks, concerned.  Cleo’s snoozing on her lap. She’s the cutest.

 

“You were kinda sleepwalking last night...and crying…  It scares me when grownups do that,” Fran admits.

 

“I understand.  Especially coming from where we’ve come from?  At my house, anyway? Crying was saved for the worst things, only.  So by the time anyone cried? Things were wholly out of control.”

 

“Is that like…  What do you mean?  Holes poked in the control?” Fran squints.

 

“Wholly, with a W.  Like the word  _ whole _ .  As in entirely.  Things were  _ entirely _ out of control when people cried.”  

 

“You’re so good at teaching vocabulary,” Fran gushes.

 

“Oh, thank you,” Pearl says, surprised.  “So, anyway, that felt scary to me. Definitely seeing my mom cry felt scary, as well.”

 

“Because if grownups cry then things must be really wrong…” Fran ventures.

 

“Or that grownup has trauma.  And that trauma means sometimes, she has nightmares of scary things happening.” Pearl explains.

 

“To Levi, right?” Fran asks.  “You were saying his name.”

 

“Yes, you’re right.  But guess who else was in the dream?” Pearl winks like she has a fun surprise.

 

“Me!” Fran says, smiling.

 

“Almost that cool,” Pearl assures.  “No, you weren’t. But Gracie was.”

 

“Aw, I love Gracie,” Fran says.

 

“I know you do.  So, I wanted to tell you about that part,” Pearl smiles, too.

 

“Hey, Francesca?  Let’s get going, okay?  Find your socks,” Dominique urges.

 

“Okay,” Fran nods.

 

Mariana finally comes out of the bathroom.  She smells amazing like flowers.

 

“Are you so excited about our railing?” Fran enthuses, finally finding socks, and fighting with Righty to put them on.  (He thinks he hates socks, but he really doesn’t. He just doesn’t like anything touching him.)

 

“Yes, and our shower chair…” Mariana answers.

 

“Oh yeah, I forgot,” Fran pulls on shoes.

 

“Those look worn out.  You okay in them?” Mari points to Fran’s shoes.

 

“Yeah...Righty drags when he’s tired,” Fran shares, biting her lip.

 

“I know.  It’s okay.  I just want you to be okay walking in them,” Mari nods.

 

“Fran, come here, babe, and let’s get you a new bandaid,” Dominique calls.

 

Sighing, Francesca walks over.  At least, by now, Fran knows she can be in charge of taking the old one off with soap and water.  The bandaid she gets this time is matching Dominique’s skin. She kind of likes it better than the white bandaids they have at home.

 

“You’ll want a thing,” Mariana calls to her.  “You’re always cold.” She holds out Fran’s white and teal hoodie.

 

“But nobody will see me shining bright then,” Fran objects, pulling the sweatshirt on.

 

“Fran, you always shine bright.  We don’t need to see a logo to know that,” Pearl says. 

 

\--

 

When they reach the restaurant, Mariana gets out of Jesus’s car, takes three steps on the uneven, cracky pavement, and she’s down.

 

“Here, can I give you a hand?” Levi asks, extending one.  Then both. She accepts and slowly gets to her feet.

 

“Nobody saw, did they?” Mariana asks, embarrassed.  “Fran, hold somebody’s hand, okay?”

 

“Did you fall?” Fran asks.

 

“I’m fine,” Mariana insists.  “Just hold somebody’s hand.”

 

“Okay,” she hears Fran answer.

 

“No, you’re good,” Levi nods, looking around for any potential witnesses.  He’s holding Mariana’s hand tightly. “But your knee is not good. Let’s sit somewhere and fix that.”

 

“It’s fine,” Mariana brushes off his concern.  “I don’t want to make it a thing.”

 

“Are you sure?  There’s a bench here.  We can sit down,” Levi points out.  “Doesn’t have to be a thing. I can just help out, and we can go in.”

 

“How?” Mariana asks, not able to resist the lure of a bench and sinking down onto it.

 

“I got it!” Fran insists.  “Guys, don’t worry, I have this all handled.”

 

Mariana smiles a little.  

 

“You okay?” Jesus asks Mariana.

 

“Oh, your knee...  And your jeans…” Pearl exclaims, her concern much too loud.  People are going to start looking.

 

Mariana waves them away..  “Just don’t pay attention to me.  I’m fine.”

 

“Okay…” Jesus agrees.  “We’ll just...go in and try to find a table...for eight…”  If you guys wanna hang out here where you know there’s a bench, one of us can come get you when we have a spot.  Dom, you wanna come in?” 

 

“Yeah.  There’s their car,” Dominique breathes a sigh of relief, spotting her parents.  “I’ll steer my dad clear of you,” she tells Mari, who nods.

 

Once they’re relatively alone, Fran unzips her fanny pack and takes out bandaids and gauze.  And antibiotic cream. “I packed extra just in case. Levi, do you have a washcloth?”

 

“I have wet wipes in my car,” Michael insists, as he walks up and takes in Mariana’s bleeding knee.  He doubles back, basically running for the car, like this is a major emergency. Mariana blushes.

 

“Sorry,” Dominique mouths.

 

Once Michael’s handed off a few packets of wet wipes and is inside with Dominique, Jesus, Pearl and Jaimie, Levi tends to Mari’s knee.  Fran stays close, holding Mari’s hand.

 

“I basically scraped all the skin off my knee before, at school.  And it really hurt. And you helped me. Remember that?” Fran asks sweetly,

 

Mariana nods, wincing as Levi dabs her injury gently, always asking before he does anything.  

 

“I know how it feels to fall.  I didn’t want anybody to notice me, either.  It was too embarrassing…”

 

Mariana squeezes her hand.

 

By now, Levi’s almost done applying antibiotic cream and bandaids.

 

Fran takes the wrappers and the antibiotic cream back and crams them in her fanny pack.  

 

Levi eases the leg of her jeans back down.  “There you go,” he says. “You good?” he checks.

 

Mariana nods again.

 

“Let’s chill here,” Levi says, getting comfortable on the other side of Mariana.

 

“How was it?” Mariana asks.  “The railing?”

 

“Easy,” Levi tells her.  “Stef was there, though.”

 

Mariana makes a face.

 

“She hates it, I bet…” Fran offers knowingly.

 

“Oh well…” Levi shrugs.  “It’s not for her, is it?  She doesn’t have to like it.”

 

“Thank you,” Mariana tells Levi.

 

“Yeah, thank you, Levi,” Fran echoes.  “For making sure we’re safe.”

 

“Of course,” he says.  “It’s what we do, right?  As family?”

 

“That chose each other because we care and love each other, right?” Fran checks.

 

“Right,” Mariana confirms.

 

\--

 

Jesus runs back out a few times to give Mari a heads up on what look like vegan options, so she’ll know what she wants to order.  She chooses avocado toast and he asks, “Want me to order for you?”

 

“Please,” she nods.

 

“Want a pickle, too?” he asks, knowing her.

 

“When don’t I want a pickle?” Mariana chides.

 

“True.”

 

They get inside, and Jesus wastes no time passing off his headphones to Mariana.  She’s got her sunglasses on, too. It’s loud as hell in here. He feels bad they didn’t really think this through for her.

 

“Sorry, I look like this…” she apologizes, looking at Jaimie and Michael.

 

“Don’t apologize,” Jaimie says.  “You deserve to be comfortable.”

 

Dudley and Cleo are under the table, hanging out.  Jesus has a hat on and is trying to keep a low profile.  Fran’s resorted to what she’s always done, and calls him “buddy” in public.

 

It actually reminds him.

 

“Hey…  If you guys wouldn’t mind?  Could you not name-drop me while we’re here?  It helps...for reasons…” he looks sidelong at Dominique.  “I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I must sound so full of myself.”

 

“Don’t even…” Dominique waves off his concern easily.  “If people knew how to mind themselves...you probably wouldn’t have to go to all this trouble to keep a low profile in public, right?”

 

“Pretty much,” Jesus nods.  “I’m still sorry.”

 

They order, and eventually their food comes.  Jesus has a suspicion that their waitress recognizes at least him, if not Mari and Fran, too, but wisely keeps her mouth shut about it.  Fran doesn’t have to deal with anybody asking what she’d like. He and Mari already worked out what she wanted, so mostly, it goes off without a hitch.

 

Fran is super happy, noticing everyone has tomato soup and almost everyone (except Mariana) has grilled cheese sandwiches.  

 

Jesus crunches his pickle, and it’s seriously epic.

 

“So, how have you guys been?” Michael asks.  “Levi?”

 

“Oh,” he answers, looking surprised and uncomfortable.  “Yeah, good.”

 

“Actually last night was not really good,” Fran offers, taking a big bite of her grilled cheese, and then her pickle.  All three of them dig pickles.

 

“Oh?” Jaimie asks.  “Something happen?”

 

“Our parents kinda stopped by unannounced,” Jesus shares, keeping his voice down.  “With pizza.”

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.  Are y’all okay?” Jaimie asks.

 

“Mostly,” Fran answers.

 

“Yeah, mostly,” Jesus nods.

 

Mariana nods, too.

 

“But they made us a railing!” Fran pipes up, gesturing to Levi and Jesus.  “Can I show them the video?”

 

“Sure,” Jesus confirms.  

 

Levi nods.

 

Michael and Jaimie take their time watching the video.  Then, they can’t stop saying good stuff about it.

 

“That is a solid railing,” Michael praises.

 

“I noticed it’s in the middle,” Jaimie observes.  “That’s a little different.”

 

“Well, we use different hands,” Fran points out.  “So if it’s in between we can just go on whatever side we need.”

 

“Ah.  That makes sense,” Jaimie nods at Fran and Mariana.  “And I know the two of you have been needing this for a while.”

 

Levi scrapes his chair back and excuses himself.  Jesus gets up, too.

 

\--

 

Out in front of the restaurant, Levi just tries to breathe.  

 

It doesn’t get any easier.  Even though Carla’s not anywhere near here, he’s on edge like she is.  Like she could be.

 

“You okay?” Jesus asks, leaning on the outside wall, beside Levi, Dudley at his side.

 

“Not really…” he admits.  “But I didn’t really wanna say anything.  Dom should be able to invite her mom out with us if she wants…”

 

“Sorry Stef was there,” Jesus apologizes.  “Hope it wasn’t too much for you today.”

 

“Hey, I’d always rather be with y’all than be on my own,” Levi nods to himself.  “Glad I changed. And showered.”

 

“Yeah, so is Dudley,” Jesus jokes.

 

“Oh, my God,” Levi laughs.  “I just meant this place is kinda fancy!  Dudley can mind his own business,” Levi croons, tucking his hands in his pockets so he doesn’t accidentally pet him.  “Thanks for not letting me go alone,” Levi swallows.

 

“Are you kidding?  Never,” Jesus says serious.

 

It makes Levi feel a million times safer.


	139. Shelter You

It helps to be able to take a break with Jesus.  

 

Levi hasn’t really been able to articulate how hanging out for hours on Stef and Lena’s front steps was kinda eerie for him.  (Carla’s front steps was where he’d found the hose. And the mud. Where everything started.) It sort of feels like that again.  Like the start of something.  

 

Jesus doesn’t push and doesn’t rush him back inside either.  They just hang out on the same bench where Levi fixed Mari’s knee.  

 

Levi’s quiet so long, though, that eventually Jesus does check in:

 

“Hey.  You okay?” he asks.

 

“Does it ever freak you out?” Levi wonders, intentionally vague.

 

“What?” Jesus clears his throat.  “Anything specific?”

 

“I mean, like…  When things are too similar, I guess,” Levi shrugs.

 

“Yeah.  That’s why I avoid Target like the plague,” Jesus says.

 

Levi’s about to comment about how much he loves the store when a memory nudges him.  Jesus talking about walking into a Target store and breaking a bunch of stuff to get arrested.  To get away. No wonder he doesn’t like it.

 

“I had to wait on the front steps for my dad,” Levi confides.  “I’d lost my shoe and he couldn’t wait for me to find it, so he told me...just wait for him there.  He’d be right back.”

 

Jesus cocks his head listening.  “This sounds kinda familiar.”

 

“Well, it was  _ her  _ front step.  That day. The day the thing…” Levi ventures.

 

Jesus swallows.  Nods. “So...you’re remembering that ‘cause of Jaimie?” Jesus wonders.

 

“And because we were on y’all’s parents front steps for a  _ minute _ ,” Levi admits.

 

“Right.  I’m sorry, man.  I didn’t even realize,” Jesus apologizes.

 

“Hey.  I wanted to come.  And at least I didn’t have to go inside.  Thanks for the heads-up by the way. That worked out.  I was glad to have a plan,” Levi nods.

 

“I’m a pretty epic planner,” Jesus agrees.

 

There’s silence again.  Levi glances down at Dudley, sprawled on the pavement.  “Do people recognize you a lot?”

 

“Almost every time I’m out,” Jesus admits.  “They wanna talk to me. Hug me. Tell me about their shit, and it’s like...I’m just trying to buy groceries, dude.”

 

“And you don’t know them,” Levi adds.

 

“Right,” Jesus nods.  “They feel a connection to me, but I feel zero back.  So, it’s weird.”

 

“Well, thanks for coming out with us,” Levi says.

 

“Yeah, thank you for coming, too.  Like, out here. If I haven’t said.  Means a lot. To have you here. For Mari and Fran.  You’ve really helped a lot.”

 

“Thank you. I hope so.” Levi nods.  “I guess we should go back in…” he admits.  

 

“If you need to hang out here, that’s cool.  I’ll stay,” Jesus volunteers.

 

“But this is brunch.  That means breakfast is late--” 

 

“--or lunch is early,” Jesus jokes.

 

“Come on.  I know it’s a big deal for you to be able to eat.  Like, at the scheduled times or whatever,” Levi points out.

 

“That’s true.  But I also know you’re triggered.  And Avoider’s don’t leave each other behind, so...  I can send someone else out to sit with you. Mari might need a break…” he offers.

 

“Yeah, that’d be cool,” Levi admits.

 

\--

 

Mariana can’t get out of the restaurant fast enough.  Outside it’s overcast but still bright enough to nudge her headache to life, even with the sunglasses.  She takes a seat by Levi, cautiously lowering the headphones.  

 

The noise-level is not so bad out here.

 

“Hey.” she says.

 

“Hey,” he echoes.

 

She doesn’t have the energy to make small talk right now.  

 

Honestly, everything has just been stacking up on her.  From finding out that the accident was her fault, to Fran being hurt twice because of Mari, to the website, to Moms just inviting themselves over to Jesus’s.  There’s not enough time in the world to process all of that.

 

And now she fell, so there’s that.  Maybe it’s because she’s used to Lena’s super hyper reaction that Mariana’s own heart just won’t slow down.  She’s always fine. She was fine then. And she’s fine now. But Mariana has to admit that a big part of her being okay is that she’s kind of forced to be.  In order for Lena to calm down, Mariana has to prove she’s not about to die or disappear, or something else equally intense.

 

Even though Mariana gets that with The Avoiders she doesn’t have to manage her reactions, it’s more or less ingrained now.  Because long before she was managing herself for Lena and Stef she was managing herself for Ana. For the people with her.

 

She can’t just turn that off.

 

And there’s the other part of her that’s like, yeah, her knee hurts.  But so does life.

 

“It’s a lot,” Levi says, and it’s that thing she’s only previously known with Jesus.  Like Levi, too, can read her thoughts.

 

Mariana doesn’t nod because of the headache.  Can’t say anything because what even would she say and would any words be there anyway?

 

She reaches out, raising her eyebrows, and he slides his hand into hers.  Squeezes.

 

Then, they just sit.  Mariana closes her eyes.

 

\--

 

“This is a fantastic grilled cheese,” Michael enthuses.  “I have to find out their secret.”

 

“They don’t tell you,” Jesus says back.  “Not even on the cooking shows, you know?  They just say  _ special blend _ .  Or _ secret combo of spices _ .  That kind of thing.”

 

“That just means I need to start making my own special blend,” Michael says.

 

“Get out of here with your special blend,” Jaimie laughs.

 

“How do you _ make _ a special blend?” Fran asks.

 

“You just experiment.  Keep adding flavors and tasting,” Michael says.

 

“What flavors, though?” Fran insists.

 

“Sounds like she wants in on all your secrets,” Dominique chides.

 

Michael smiles.  He loves that he can joke a little with Dominique now.  That her guard lowers once in a while.

 

“We don’t keep secrets, though,” Fran warns.

 

“Well, recipes are safe secrets to keep,” Michael reassures.  “They’re kept kinda private, because they’re special. A special way someone shows their love to other people.  So that when y’all taste spaghetti and meatballs it’s not just any old spaghetti and meatballs. It’s the kind you get at our house.  And it’s got our love in it.”

 

“Ew,” Fran giggles.  

 

“Get your brain out of the gutter,” Jesus teases.

 

“But he’s talking about kissing!” Fran insists.

 

“Kissing’s not the only kind of love, babe,” Jaimie explains.  “There’s kindness. And caring. And taking somebody’s preferences and needs into account.  Those are all ways Michael shows love when he cooks.”

 

“I don’t like mushrooms and onions,” Fran offers.

 

“And I know that,” Michael nods.  “That’s why my sauce doesn’t have any of that in it when you come over.”

 

“Wait.  For real?” Fran asks.  “I just thought that’s how you make it.”

 

“It’s how I make it for you,” Michael explains.  “Because I care about you. All of you.”

 

“Pearl’s good with secret ingredients, too,” Jesus shares.

 

“Oh, I’m not, really,” Pearl denies.

 

“Do you cook?” Michael asks, interested.

 

“I dabble,” Pearl allows.

 

“She makes really good hot chocolate,” Fran insists.  “Like the best ever.”

 

“Does that have a secret ingredient?” Michael asks.

 

“We can’t tell, right?” Fran checks with Pearl.  “Or else it would just be regular hot chocolate without any love.”

 

“Well, there would still be love,” Pearl qualifies, stroking Cleo.

 

“She’s a beautiful dog,” Jaimie compliments.  “Every time I see her, she just makes me happy.”

 

“Yeah, she has that effect on people,” Pearl smiles.  “It’s probably your goofy face, isn’t it?” she asks and Cleo licks her.

 

“Is Levi alright?” Jaimie asks.

 

“I think so,” Pearl allows.

 

“Yeah, he just needed some air,” Jesus adds.

 

“So did Mariana.  So they’re getting air together,” Fran explains.  “Because they’re best friends.”

 

“Levi’s Mariana’s best friend?” Pearl asks.

 

“I think,” Fran nods.

 

“Well, she knows how to pick ‘em.  Seems like a good kid,” Michael nods.

 

“He is,” Dominique nods.  “They both are.”

 

“Except they’re not kids, really.  They’re adults,” Fran fills in helpfully.

 

“Right, you are,” Michael nods.

 

\--

 

After grilled cheeses, it’s the worst because it’s homework time.  If she were at home, Moms would make her do it right away on Friday, but they were having dinner with Jaimie and Michael on Friday.

 

Fran picks Dominique to help her with homework, because Dominique’s the smartest.  There’s something weird, though. Dominique helps her, same as usual. But there’s like...something that makes Fran nervous.

 

“Are you mad at me?” Fran asks, after she puts away her math book.

 

“Why do you ask that?” Dominique wonders, and Fran sinks in her seat.  (The same exact answer Pearl gave last night. A question to her question.  Fran’s heartbeat speeds up.)

 

“Because...just something in your voice…” Fran ventures.  She can’t run away this time and give Dominique a break. She has to figure this out.

 

Dominique sighs.  “I guess I am a little,” she admits.

 

“What did I do?” Fran asks, her eyes wide.

 

“Fran.  Listen. Just because I’m a little upset?  That doesn’t mean I don’t love you. It doesn’t mean I’d ever hurt you.”

 

“But you’re mad.  A little,” Fran qualifies.  “And you won’t tell me why.”

 

“Because...last night when we couldn’t find you?  That really scared me. I get why you did it. I do.  But we trust each other, don’t we?”

 

“Usually…” Fran ventures.

 

“What do you mean, usually?” Dominique asks.

 

“I mean, like, unless you guys get tired of me or mad or something.  Or I mess up.”

 

“But how many times have we lied to you, Fran?” Dominique asks, her voice heavy.

 

“None?” Fran answers.

 

“None.  So we’re your family.  That means you can trust us,” Dominique explains.

 

“That’s what it means to you…” Fran allows.  “You have a nice mom and dad who love you a lot.  Who don’t make you feel bad about yourself.”

 

“So, you can’t trust family…  Who can you trust?” Dominique asks.

 

Fran shrugs.

 

“Hard to trust anybody, maybe,” Dominique offers.

 

“I guess.  Grownups, for sure,” Fran nods.

 

“Can I ask you something?” Dominique asks.

 

Fran nods.

 

“What does family mean to you?” Dominique wonders.

 

“Can this be between just us?  Don’t tell anybody?” Fran asks.

 

“I think so,” Dominique nods.

 

“They get to do whatever they want to you…” Fran answers softly.

 

“Family means people who get to do whatever they want to you…” Dominique repeats.  “Well, that does sound very scary. And I understand why it would be really hard to trust people who call themselves your family.”

 

“But it still hurts your feelings that you couldn’t find me,” Fran says knowingly.  “Because of when you were eleven…”

 

“That’s right,” Dominique nods, clearing her throat.  “I know things can happen to eleven year olds. Things that aren’t their fault.  I’m just saying, please don’t go off by yourself without telling one of us again.  It really scares me. I want you to be safe.”

 

“I know,” Fran nods.  “I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I said I don’t trust you guys.”

 

“No, you’re being honest.  I’m glad, and you can be honest,” Dominique nods.

 

“Are you done being mad?” Fran asks.

 

“I don’t know if I’m mad so much as...it’s my trauma,” Dominique confesses.

 

“Because sometimes when people’s trauma comes out it can look like they’re mad.  Like Levi at the cabin when Pearl accidentally made him trauma cookies, but she didn’t know and he, like, broke the plate and everything.”

 

“That’s right,” Dominique nods.

 

“I keep messing up and hurting myself,” Fran admits, biting her lip.

 

“You’re working on it, though.  And that’s a good thing. You know, I saw how you went to support Mariana.  And how you had all that backup stuff in your fanny pack. I think that’s a good idea.  It’s really good self care to practice. Whether you get hurt by your own hand, or by accident, to get in the habit of putting a bandaid on it is a good thing.”

 

“We only have white bandaids at my house,” Fran confesses.  

 

“Well, I bet we can find you some you’d feel comfortable wearing,” Dominique reassures.  “You want a hug, babe? I feel like it’s been a while.”

 

“It has,” Fran nods.  

 

She gets up and walks around the table to Dominique.  “I had to basically talk to every Avoider about safety and not going places by myself.”

 

Dominique wraps her arms around Fran gently.  Squeezes. “Babe, that’s what happens. Instead of us yelling at you, or humiliating you or hurting you?  We all just wanna talk to you. To make sure you know how very important you are to us. We never wanna lose you, okay?”

 

“Good,” Fran says.  “‘Cause I never wanna be lost.”


	140. I'll Be The Light

It turns out that Dominique has helped Fran finish her homework in the nick of time, because Mom comes by pretty much as soon as Fran’s math is away and asks if they want to come to the beach.

 

“I can’t swim,” Fran warns.  “And I don’t have my life jacket with me, so I can’t go in the water.”

 

“I won’t swim either.  I don’t think many of us will,” Dominique reassures.  “Mom just likes to sit on the beach and talk. Wanna do that?”

 

“And maybe build a sandcastle or something?” Fran bargains.

 

“Sure, we can maybe build a sandcastle or something,” Jaimie agrees.  “That sounds great.”

 

\--

 

It’s true what Jaimie says: they all go to the beach, but none of them go in the water, so Fran doesn’t even feel jealous about not going in.  Pearl and Levi didn’t bring swimsuits and Michael and Jaimie didn’t come prepared. That’s what Michael says. Dominique doesn’t like swimming.  The rest of them don’t either very much. So, it’s just a girls time right now, plus Jesus, because he wants to join and because Levi and Michael want to talk just them.

 

“I got my homework done, thank goodness,” Francesca sighs, sprawled out on her green towel, touching the sand.  It feels soft. “Actually, thanks, Dominique,” Fran decides, glancing over to where Dominique is. “You’re the one who helped me.”

 

“Well, you’re welcome,” Dominique says.

 

“Jaimie.  So, guess what?  Practically everybody in the whole Avoiders is talking to me about safety.”

 

“Wow.  What prompted that?” Jaimie wonders.

 

“Well, I kinda did something…” Fran admits.  “From misunderstanding someone.”

 

“Something?” Jaimie asks.  

 

“Like...giving them a break without telling them first?” Fran admits.  She’s sitting up by now. Squinting her eyes because of the bright sun, and because she’s probably gonna get another safety talk right this minute from Jaimie.  Fran can see it on Jaimie’s face.

 

“Oh, babe.  That’s not wise,” she cautions and Fran wishes they’d just bury her in the sand or something.  Or put a bucket on her head so she didn’t have to see Dominique’s face. At least Jesus and Mariana are a little ways away by themselves.  But Pearl’s here, though. Quiet.

 

“I’m sorry…” Fran objects.  “I know I shouldn’t have gone off without telling them.  I won’t anymore. I just thought they all wanted me to.”

 

“Did you think we wanted you to?  Michael and I?” Jaimie asks.

 

“Well, no.  You weren’t there,” Fran points out.

 

“Okay, so next time.  If there’s a next time,” Jaimie starts.  “And you don’t feel like you can talk to any of the grown up Avoiders, I want you to call Avoider Mom or Avoider Dad…”

 

“That’s not a thing,” Fran giggles.

 

“It most definitely is a thing,” Jaimie counters.  “And I want you to call us. So that we can tell you that none of us want a break from you.  Make sense?”

 

“Yeah, except now I have a million things in my head I’m supposed to do.  I’m never going to remember them all…” Fran worries.

 

“Most important,” Dominique says, “is tell an adult how you’re feeling.  Tell an adult you feel like giving us a break. Just tell. That’s number one.”  She and Jaimie share this look and it’s like they’re saying something with their eyes - or remembering something maybe.  Fran doesn’t know what.

 

“So...that’s the only step?” Fran checks.

 

“Yes,” Jaimie nods.

 

“Okay, fine, I will.  Better than having Dominique mad at me…”

 

“Dom?  You’re mad, babe?” Jaimie asks.

 

Dominique shrugs.  “Yeah. She took off, and I about had a heart attack.  I don’t know how you and Dad made it…”

 

Then it’s like, bam.  Fran remembers again. Dominique when she was eleven.  Bad guys getting her. It sounds like Jaimie and Michael had to wait a really long time before Dominique got back.

 

“I feel really bad…” Fran announces, her voice soft.  (They said tell how she feels.)

 

“Pearl, does Cleo want a walk?” Dominique asks, all of a sudden.

 

“She always wants a walk,” Pearl agrees.

 

“We don’t want you to feel bad,” Jaimie reassures.  “But we do want you to stop and think before you do something that could be dangerous.”

 

“I know, and I tried to ask questions but it just made the information I had seem more true.”

 

Jaimie scoots closer and puts an arm around Fran.  “That sounds confusing. Come build a sandcastle with me,” she extends a hand.

 

\--

 

Pearl and Cleo walk a ways before Dominique lets out a noisy breath and admits.  “Sorry, I had to walk away before I said something I’d regret…”

 

“Such as?” Pearl checks.  

 

“That Fran  _ should _ feel bad,” Dominique admits.

 

“Ooh,” Pearl winces.  “Yeah, admirable restraint.  I wish I could say the same. Then maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess…”

 

“Pearl, interpersonal business is messy.  But if the friendship - or whatever it is - matters to you?  Then it’s worth working on. We’re all working on relationship stuff all the time.”

 

“It just seems like I’m the farthest behind the curve, and I’m making the most major errors…” Pearl remarks.

 

“You’re not alone in the struggle, though,” Dominique passes along.  “By the way… Are you okay? Mariana and I heard you last night.”

 

Pearl winces.  “Sorry. Seems I woke the whole house up with my wandering.”

 

“Hey, do you remember this past spring?  Who apparently came pounding on your cabin door in the thick of a nightmare?” Dominique points out.  “Still sorry about that.”

 

“No, it’s fine.  I’m just glad you came to us and didn’t get lost in the woods or something…” Pearl nods.  “Anyway, I’m okay. Just...coming face to face with Stef and Lena now...is very different than it used to be.  Conjures all kinds of past memories and nightmares.”

 

“Sounds creepy,” Dominique surmises.  

 

“Very,” Pearl nods.  “The only redeeming thing about it was Gracie.  And seeing a very adorable younger Levi.”

 

“Aw,” Dominique smiles.  “That does sound redeeming.  And you got to touch base with him?  So you knew he was okay?”

 

“I did,” Pearl nods.  “Are you?”

 

“I’m...not.  I’m raw. I’m angry.  I’m...everything right now.  I just… I’m still not over that Fran even did that.  She knows better! Out of any kid. After what happened to Jesus…”

 

“And you,” Pearl reminds.

 

Dominique nods.  “And me.” She blows out a breath.  “And at the same time...I knew better, too.  My parents taught me, specifically, to know better.  But it still happened.”

 

“We’re just lucky it didn’t happen again,” Pearl nods.

 

“Yes, we are,” Dominique manages.

 

\--

 

“So...how’s your knee?” Jesus asks, in the process of erecting a giant sand lizard.

 

“Will you stop with my knee?” Mariana asks.  “And can’t you point that thing so it’s head is somewhere else, not facing me?”

 

“It’s so I’m facing you,” Jesus adds.  “But if you’d rather see the tail…” 

 

“Please,” Mariana decides.

 

“Dudley, you wanna play in the water?” Mari croons.

 

The dog, who’s been using all of his self control, practically vibrates, panting and happy.

 

“Who’s gonna get him out if he goes to play out there?” Jesus insists.

 

“You call him,” Mariana says.

 

“Sorry, Dudley.  Not this time,” Jesus apologizes.  

 

Dudley’s ears, which had perked up at Mariana’s voice, fall.  He’s clearly disappointed.

 

“Aw, he’s sad now,” Mariana says, sympathetic.  It’s bright out here, but the beach isn’t hugely busy.  Which is nice.

 

“Well, he’ll live,” Jesus tells her and Dudley.

 

“I can’t believe I have to go back to freaking therapy tomorrow…” Mariana complains.

 

“I still say you should take a break,” Jesus says.  “Doesn’t a lot of healing happen when you rest?”

 

“According to Moms, I rested enough when I was in the hospital…” Mariana remarks, bitter.

 

“That wasn’t resting,” Jesus mutters.  “And they don’t know the first thing about it.”

 

“Hey, don’t forget the spikes on its back,” Mariana directs.  “Scales. Whatever. And it needs to be way bigger.”

 

“You do know this is a lizard, not a dinosaur, right?” Jesus asks.  

 

“Whatever!  Same category!” Mariana laughs.

 

“What if I made this thing long enough to eat Fran and Jaimie’s city over there?” Jesus jokes.

 

“Pretty sure Fran would kill you,” Mariana passes along.

 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Jesus nods.  “Guess we’ll have to keep him contained over here.  By you.”

 

“No way.  Stop making him all around me.  It’s creepy,” Mariana protests, laughing.

 

“Fine, sorry,” Jesus apologizes, changing direction again.

 

\--

 

“So glad I get to finally talk to you in person,” Levi admits walking down the beach with Michael.

 

“Yeah?   It’s been a while since you called me last,” Michael jokes.  

 

“I called you, like, one time ever.  And I’m still sorry. I can’t believe I did that.  It’s not like we even knew each other,” Levi laughs, nervous.

 

“Hey, I’m glad you did that.  It takes guts to reach out like you did.  You doing okay? Noticed you were keeping a low profile at brunch.”

 

“Yeah.  I spent longer than I wanted to at their parents house,” Levi says, taking the no-name-dropping Jesus thing seriously, even now.

 

“Yeah?” Michael asks.  

 

“It’s not that I didn’t wanna help them out.  I did. I do. Always, you know? Or I wouldn’t be here.” Levi insists.

 

“I believe you.  Your honor is not in question here, trust me,” Michael reassures.

 

“It’s just...you’ve probably guessed by my keeping myself scarce around Jaimie that I don’t feel particularly safe around mothers…”

 

“I remember you saying that, yeah.  That you were hurt by someone’s mom…  Then you got Stef and Lena...” Michael ventures.  “And I mean no disrespect to their kids, but...damn…  Anyway, I’m not surprised they put you on edge.”

 

“Plus, we had already seen them the night before.  They asked Mari about me, like they had no idea who I was.  When I know Pearl’s told them my name. That I live with her.  I know Mari and Fran talk about me, you know? Not in an egotistical way, just…”

 

“Just, you’d think they’d pay attention.  Learn the names of their kids’ friends,” Michael fills in.

 

“Right, yeah,” Levi nods.  “And I just...I didn’t like being noticed by them.  At all. Made me feel really...exposed I guess?”

 

“Just so you know?  My offer still stands?  For Dadness. Should you need it.  I remember what you said about losing your dad.  That’s not something you ever get over. Reaching out to me, if you ever needed to?  That’s not a betrayal of your own father…”

 

“No, God knows I’ve done enough of that…” Levi manages, voice thick.

 

“How do you mean that?” Michael asks, gentle.

 

“I mean....  So you...know what it’s like?” Levi asks.  “To lose…?”

 

“Yes,” Michael nods.

 

“Were you there?” Levi presses.

 

“No,” Michael says.

 

“Do you hate yourself?” Levi asks, almost begging.

 

“Some days,” Michael nods.  “Some days, especially in the beginning?  I thought I’d never forgive myself.”

 

“And how long did that take?  The beginning?” Levi wonders.

 

Michael blows out a breath.  “A couple of years, at least…”

 

“It’ll be two years next month,” Levi admits.  “And just...last year? I didn’t think I’d make it.  You know? We had to move.”

 

“First anniversaries are the worst,” Michael commiserates.  “Because you’ve never done anything like it before. Never lost that person.  Never felt what it was like for them not to be there.”

 

“Are you saying this one is gonna be better.  Because I don’t know if I want that, either…” Levi admits.

 

“I’m saying I don’t know,” Michael admits.  “I know how it was for me. And I can share that, and hope it helps.  But only you know how it is for you.” He pauses. “You wanna punish yourself?” Michael asks.

 

“I’m sorry?” Levi asks.

 

“You said you don’t know if you want the anniversaries to get easier?  Is that because you want to punish yourself, for not being there?” Michael asks again.

 

“I guess, in a way…” Levi nods.  “And also, if it’s easier? Isn’t that like saying...I don’t know...he was never here?  Or it doesn’t matter that he’s gone?”

 

“You can love people.  And suffering can coexist with that, by chance.  But if you’re being hurt by a person who’s supposed to love you, or if you’re telling yourself you have to be sad, or your dad’s life didn’t matter?  Those are some dangerous waters, my friend.”

 

“I just...don’t really know how to do this.  No one I know has lost their dad. Except my sister, and it’s even newer to her than it was to me.  So…” Levi tucks his hands in his pockets.

 

“So, call me,” Michael says.  “Or I’ll call you. I’m right here.  Now we’ve officially met. It’s not weird anymore.”

 

Levi smiles a little.  “You sure? I can just...call you...and it’s no big deal?”

 

“Positive.  I’m here, Levi.  For all of you - and that includes you.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” Levi nods.

 

“You really don’t have to call me sir,” Michael insists, smiling.

 

“I’m sorry, sir.  I mean…” Levi breathes.  “I mean, thanks. I’ll call.”

 

“You’d better,” Michael warns, good-naturedly.  “Or I’m calling you - if that’s cool - is it?”

 

“Yeah,” Levi nods, smiling, too.  “Yeah, that’d be cool.”


	141. Paper Heart

Once they’re all back from the beach and free of sand, Francesca’s sitting in Jesus’s living room with all of The Avoiders - except Jaimie and Michael who had to go home.  Fran feels good-exhausted from all the time outside.  

 

“The city we made was fortified,” she passes along to Jesus, trying out the new vocabulary word she learned from Jaimie - that’s probably where Dominique learned all of hers.  “That means it’s lizard-proof.”

 

“It wasn’t a lizard,” Jesus says, laughing.  “It was a...giant ocean-dinosaur.”

 

“So...the Loch Ness monster,” Pearl says.

 

“The what?” Fran asks, afraid.

 

“It’s just a story,” Levi reassures.  “About a monster like Jesus is talking about.  But don’t worry. It only lives in lakes.”

 

“A  _ dinosaur _ ,” Jesus reminds.

 

“You said it wasn’t a dinosaur,” Mariana exclaims, swatting Jesus with her sweatshirt.

 

“So, I changed my mind when she got to be super massive,” Jesus shrugs like,  _ whaddaya gonna do _ ?

 

“What was the city fortified with?” Dominique wonders.

 

“Magic,” Fran decides.

 

“Nice,” Dominique nods.  

 

“Hey, are you still mad at me?” Fran asks.

 

“My feelings are still a little hurt,” Dominique admits.  “But they’re getting better.”

 

“Because I hid in the laundry room,” Fran clarifies, seeing all the other Avoiders staring at them.  “Hey, can the Lake-Nest Monster travel? Like, maybe, to the ocean?”

 

“No,” Levi reassures.  “It’s not real, besides.  It’s made-up.”

 

“Then how come Jesus knew about it all the way here?” Fran wonders.

 

“Because sometimes a made-up story can catch on like that.  If one person says they saw something scary, it can make other people sure they did, as well.” Pearl says.

 

“Sometimes, I bet they did,” Fran points out.

 

“I’m sure you’re right,” Pearl nods.  “But sometimes...scared feelings can travel.  Kind of jump from one person to another. That’s how a story like the Loch Ness monster spreads.”

 

“Oh,” Fran nods.

 

“So, listen, I hate to be Debbie Downer,” Pearl says, in a voice like she’s about to change the subject.

 

Fran laughs and a snort escapes.  “Oops,” she giggles. “Sorry. That’s just a really funny name…”

 

Mariana’s smiling, too.

 

“What’s up, Pearl?” Jesus asks.

 

“I’ve just been thinking...that Levi and I are heading back on Wednesday.  So, I wanted to make sure we all had a heads-up. Enough time to prepare.”

 

Francesca’s not smiling anymore.  No one is. That’s because there’s never enough time to lose your friends.

 

“And so that if y’all needed us for anything else, we can make sure and squeeze it in sometime over the next two days,” Levi adds.

 

“But Wednesday is...that’s more than two days away,” Fran objects.  She’s not good at math, but she knows that much.

 

“Right, but we’ll have to leave pretty early on Wednesday.  In the morning. So we won’t have a lot of time to do things at that point.  So we’d need to make sure and get them done tomorrow or the next day. That’s all we’re saying,” Pearl explains.

 

“Will you be able to say goodbye to me?” Fran worries.

 

“Of course, we will,” Pearl reassures.  “We’ll leave for the airport at about 9 AM.  So we’ll be sure to say goodbye to you before you leave for school in the morning.”

 

“And we’ll say a really good goodbye the night before,” Levi promises.

 

“We’ve just gotten so used to have you here,” Dominique says.

 

“Definitely,” Jesus nods.  “It’s like you’ve always been here.”

 

“Well, now we’ve got the information to fill out to potentially move out here once I get the cabin squared away in Minnesota.”

 

“Just give it back to your mom,” Jesus says, wrinkling his nose.

 

Levi sits a little stiffer.

 

“I mean, that’s way in the future at this point.  I mean how long is the waiting list?”

 

“They say nine months, but I waited more like ten,” Dominique passes along.  That’d give y’all the better part of a year to do whatever you need to do to the cabin.”

 

“OMG guys.  What if the lake monster thing lives in  _ your _ lake?” Fran asks, scared.

 

“It’s not our lake,” Levi counters.  “We don’t own it.”

 

“Okay, but you live, like, next to it.  And what if that one day, I really did fall in, and the monster thing ate me?” Fran worries.

 

“That would be pretty terrible,” Pearl agrees.  “But, fortunately, I unknowingly tested your theory.”

 

“What do you mean?” Fran asks.

 

“Are you gonna tell the story about how you fell in the lake now?” Jesus wonders.

 

“Maybe,” Pearl nods.  “Anyway, yes. I did fall in the lake when I was very little.  And even though I was probably wet and scared afterward? No Loch Ness monster.”

 

“Well, maybe it wasn’t born yet,” Fran points out.

 

Pearl bursts out laughing.  

 

“Francesca!” Mariana exclaims.

 

“What?” she asks, confused.  “What did I say?”

 

“That Pearl’s older a legend that’s at least a thousand years old…” Levi cackles.

 

“Oops,” Fran says.  “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

 

“No problem,” Pearl reassures.  “But I’m glad you know I’m not  _ that _ old…”

 

“I just really don’t want you guys to go,” Fran tells them.  “I wish you could just stay here and didn’t have to go back to Minnesota at all.”

 

“I know,” Levi nods.  “It’s been nice being with you guys.  But we can enjoy the time we still have, right?”

 

“I guess,” Fran pouts.  “I have to go to school tomorrow and the next day.  And I think I’m ready to go by myself. But I’m not ready for everybody to leave.”

 

“Hey, everybody is not leaving,” Jesus reminds her.  “Me and Dominique and Mariana are all gonna still be here.  You can’t get rid of us.”

 

“And we’re staying here ‘til after Moms’ thing,” Mariana adds.

 

“So we still have safety for a while,” Fran says, breathing a sigh of relief.  “What do you think they’ll say about the shower chair?” she asks.

 

Mariana shrugs.  “Why should they care?”

 

“They’ll be offended,” Fran points out.  “That you’re not using the crappy bench.”

 

“Good.  They  _ should _ be offended.  Their bench sucks,” Mariana insists.  Fran kind of loves it when she doesn’t care what Moms think.  As long as Moms aren’t around to hear it.

 

“How are we gonna move it in there?” Fran wonders.

 

“Hi.  Remember me?” Jesus asks in a funny voice.

 

“Yes, of course,” Fran smiles.

 

“Good.  ‘Cause I can still haul your awesome new shower chair into the bathroom.  No problem.”

 

“But what if they hate it like they hate the railing?” Fran worries.  (There are seriously so many things to worry about. It’s impossible to stop thinking of them.)

 

“Listen.  They left the railing on the stairs alone, didn’t they?  The one inside?” Jesus asks.

 

“Yeah.  I mean, I don’t remember, but it’s still there,” Fran says.

 

“Right.  So even if they hate the chair, or the railing on the front steps, they’re not gonna do anything drastic,” Jesus says, like he’s so sure.

 

It’s hard because it’s like the thing where she and Mariana have different Moms than Jesus had.  Even though they’re the same people they treat them all very differently. So, Jesus says Moms won’t do anything major, because they never have to him, probably.  But Fran remembers plenty of times when they’ve done stuff like that.

 

Like seeing a name that’s not theirs on a school paper, for example.

 

Fran slides a look toward Mariana, and Mariana reaches out to hold her hand.  She gets it. At least, somebody does. At least they don’t have to go back there by themselves.  

 

\--

 

Jesus is quiet for a while.  It’s hard to hear all of Fran’s worries sometimes.  Not that she’s too much, it’s just hard to know she’s got so much on her mind and there’s not really much he can do about it.

 

The only ones who can fix it might not even care to.  He hopes they do, though.

 

“Mariana?  Got anything on your mind?” Jesus checks, making sure to give her an opportunity to share.

 

“I hate falling…” she admits.

 

“I know, so do I…” Fran agrees.

 

“Is your knee okay?” Levi wonders.

 

“It’s not my knee…  It’s everything else,” Mariana admits.  “Getting hurt, even just a little, kinda shakes it all loose.”

 

“Anything you need to talk about?” Dominique asks.

 

Mariana casts a meaningful look at Fran.  

 

“What?” Francesca asks.  “I know about a lot of stuff, Mari.  You don’t have to protect me.”

 

“But I have to try,” Mariana says, and it’s like Jesus can feel his own heart breaking.

 

“Fine, Jesus, can I borrow your headphones?” Fran asks.  “I’ll watch YouTube videos and then you guys can talk and I’ll be protected.”

 

“Thank you,” Mariana nods, squeezing her hand.

 

Once Fran is thoroughly distracted watching videos, Mariana starts to share.  “I don’t know what they’re gonna do when I get back…”

 

“What do you mean?” Levi asks, his eyes concerned.

 

“Like...we haven’t really been in touch much at all...since...they found out about...you know...Fran’s bio dad,” Mariana admits.

 

“So, you think they’re holding a grudge,” Pearl surmises easily.

 

“I mean, why wouldn’t they?  They reacted like that to Fran just writing his last name.  Can you imagine how they might...whatever...when I’m back?” Mariana worries.  “I’m the one who told her. I’m the one who gave her the information. I got her hurt.”

 

“No.  They hurt her,” Jesus insists.  

 

“You gave her vital information she has always needed,” Dominique jumps in.  “The fact that Fran was writing it down on all her papers is a testament to the fact that she’s been needing it for a long time.  If it had just been part of her history from the start, I doubt she would have felt the need to explore her identity that way.”

 

Mariana stares at Dominique for an extra second.

 

“What?  I’m not saying it’s Fran’s fault,” Dominique amends.  “It’s not at all. I’m saying, if the blame rests anywhere, it’s on them.”

 

“Another thing to consider...is that by the time you see them again?  It’s going to be after the workshop,” Pearl puts in. “Which will hopefully mean they’ll be at least a little bit more enlightened.  Not perfect, but at least have a passing sense of how to treat their kids with dignity and decency.”

 

“But we have to go there,” Mariana objects.  “I mean, that’s why they were here with the pizza.”

 

“You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t feel safe going,” Dominique reminds.

 

“Yeah, but they’ll say Fran doesn’t get that choice, because she’s a minor.  They’ll choose for her. So I  _ do _ have to be there,” Mariana insists.

 

“There’s more, though,” Levi says, knowingly.

 

“Support group stuff,” Mariana shares, looking down at her lap.  “Yeah. When isn’t there? It’s just...more or whatever...once I fell…”

 

“Yeah, our bodies remember that trauma,” Pearl sympathizes.

 

“I hate blocking Fran out of everything, but…” Mariana ventures.

 

“She’s not, though,” Jesus points out.  “She volunteered to take the headphones and watch YouTube right now.  She might just need the break.”

 

“Maybe,” Mariana nods.

 

“It can be hard.  Feeling like a sibling’s protection is all on your shoulders,” Pearl shares carefully.

 

“I’m eighteen.  You don’t have to protect me anymore,” Levi objects softly.

 

“But you’d better believe I’m going to.  You’ve got my protection for life,” Pearl insists.  “We’re lucky in that we have your mom, too, who’s great.”

 

“Yeah,” Levi agrees.

 

“I know I have you guys.  And that’s something. And Jaimie and Michael.  But we’re...alone in that house, you know?”

 

Jesus’s attention catches on the words his sis uses.  She said,  _ that house _ .  Just like he used to call the house in LA That House.  He shivers a little.

 

“I mean...no one really knows what it is...to have to live in that.  And maybe they’ll come back different? From the thing? But maybe they won’t.  I have to be ready for that. So that means, I’m not holding my breath. For anything.”

 

“Makes sense,” Jesus nods.  “I don’t know exactly how it is for you, but I do know...it’s hard to articulate.  Just, that feeling, I guess. Being alone with them.”

 

Levi shivers, too.

 

He doesn’t have a great track record, being left alone with moms.

 

“Sorry,” Mariana apologizes.  “We don’t have to talk about it.”

 

“No, you can,” Levi reassures.  “I’m okay.”

 

“Can I take these off?” Fran asks.  “The ads are really annoying. And loud.”

 

Mariana nods a little and Francesca takes them off, holding them out to Jesus like they’re personally responsible for the loud ads - which, he guesses, they are.

 

“Thanks, buddy,” he says.


	142. The Story

Mariana can’t concentrate on anything for the rest of the night.  She’s got her phone out. Before long, she excuses herself entirely, to Dominique’s apartment.  (Her room, with the door closed. Her bed, with Roberta, who will not be shut out if she knows there’s a human nearby.)

 

“Fine, but you have to be quiet,” Mariana warns Roberta.

 

Roberta gives the littlest conversational mew in response, and Mariana almost melts.  If she didn’t have so much to do, she’d melt for sure.

 

\--

 

_ Google Search: _

_ NAUWU Parent Workshop San Diego _

 

_ Google Search: _

_ Bridging The Gap  _

 

_ Google Search: _

_ Who’s speaking at Bridging The Gap Workshop? _

 

_ Contact Us: _

_ Rosa Martinez _

 

_ Google Search: _

_ Rosa Martinez Bridging The Gap Workshop _

 

_ Rosa Martinez (@RosaMartinez) - Twitter _

_ NAUWU Board Member.  Speaker at Bridging the Gap San Diego.  Come see us Oct 25th-29th! _

 

_ \-- _

 

_ Direct Message: _

 

_ @NoSecretAnymor Hi, I found your name searching for info on the parent conference.  I had some questions. _

 

_ @RosaMartinez We have an FAQ.  I’d be happy to refer you. _

 

_ @NoSecretAnymor No.  I have questions for you.  Specifically.   _

 

_ @RosaMartinez About the workshop or me? _

 

_ @NoSecretAnymor Both. _

 

_ @RosaMartinez Are you a parent? _

 

_ @NoSecretAnymor No.  Are you? _

 

_ @RosaMartinez No. _

 

_ @NoSecretAnymor My parents are coming to the thing next week.  Wondering what they’ll hear. Who from. That kind of thing. If it’s just other parents, that won’t help. _

 

_ @RosaMartinez No, it won’t.  We have four sessions a day for five days.  All are led by people with disabilities. I lead one about TBIs. _

 

_ @NoSecretAnymor Really?  I just got one. Car accident less than 2 yrs ago. _

 

_ @RosaMartinez I’m more than 20 years out.  First couple years are beyond tough. In an ableist household besides, it’s a wonder any of us survive… _

 

_ @NoSecretAnymor Right? So none of the things are by parents? _

 

_ @RosaMartinez They drive our narrative most of the time.  This workshop is a chance for them to listen. Learn.   _

 

_ @NoSecretAnymor There is some family day, right?  My parents said me and my sis (also has a disability) have to come… _

 

_ @RosaMartinez That’s Wednesday, the 27h.  And it’s totally optional. _

 

_ @NoSecretAnymor As optional as anything can be living under their roof…  My sis is 11. They’ll say she has no choice. If she goes, I go. Not sending her alone. _

 

_ @RosaMartinez No, I wouldn’t either.  Listen, who are your parents? I can look them up.  Be sure they’re coming. Keep an eye on them while they’re here. _

 

_ @NoSecretAnymor Confidentially? _

 

_ @RosaMartinez Yes, none of the parents want it out that they’re here.  Most don’t come on their own. They’re compelled. _

 

_ @NoSecretAnymor Stef and Lena Adams Foster, and they’re totally being compelled. _

 

_ @RosaMartinez You’re Mariana. _

 

_ @NoSecretAnymor Busted. I figured I might be.  Once I said their names.. _

 

_ @RosaMartinez Well, listen, I have no problem making sure that your parents show up and are absorbing everything they can. _

 

_ @NoSecretAnymor Is it weird now that...I don’t know...I’m not anonymous? _

 

_ @RosaMartinez All I need to know about you is that you’re part of us.  Part of our community. I have to go but tell your sis that we have a couple speakers w/ CP, too.  We also have another brain injury survivor who runs a session, too, so it’s not just one voice they hear from any group.  There are several. It’s not perfect, but it’s something. And it’s run by us. None of this “It has to be half parents” crap. _

 

_ @NoSecretAnymor Thanks.   _

 

_ @RosaMartinez If you need anything, DM me.  Are you and Sis safe currently? _

 

_ @NoSecretAnymor We are.  Thanks. _

 

_ @RosaMartinez You’re welcome. _

 

\--

 

“So, are you mad at me, too, or what?” Francesca asks the second Mariana comes back into Jesus’s apartment.

 

“What?  No,” Mariana answers, brought up short by the question.  “Why would you think that?”

 

“Maybe because you wanted to talk about something I couldn’t hear about and then I took off my headphones and then you just left…” Fran ventures.

 

“Oh.  Yeah. I get how that felt personal, but it wasn’t.  I promise. I was just doing something.”

 

“Something?” Levi asks.

 

“I was doing…” Mariana begins, getting settled between him and Dominique and bringing up her recent Google search page.  “This.”

 

“Who is Rosa Martinez?” Levi asks.

 

“Were you doing something Moms wouldn’t approve of?” Fran asks, curious.  “Is that why you went off by yourself to do it?”

 

“No.  I mean, okay.  They probably wouldn’t approve.  But I went off by myself because I needed quiet to do this.”

 

“So…” Levi ventures.  

 

“So, I was looking up info about the thing Moms are going to next week.  To find out about it. See if it’s legit.”

 

“I searched it out pretty thoroughly before handing off any information to your moms,” Pearl offers.

 

“I figured, just…” Mariana shrugs.

 

“Sometimes we need to see for ourselves,” Dominique finishes.

 

“So...I found this name.  And I found her Twitter. And I talked to her.  Wanted to make sure she wasn’t just some…”

 

“Mean person?” Francesca volunteers.

 

“Right,” Mari nods.  “So, it turns out, she’s a speaker at Moms’ thing  _ and _ she’s disabled.  All of them are.”

 

“Rosa Martinez...why does that name sound familiar?” Jesus asks.

 

“It’s pretty common.  There were three or four other ones I found just on Twitter,” Mariana tells him.

 

“Twitter!  Yes! Thank you!  Look at this…” Jesus pulls up an image on his own phone.  

 

It’s a screenshot of the Rosa Martinez retweeting their statement requesting privacy after Lena posted all the awful photos of them on their birthday, with the comment:

 

_ @RosaMartinez Never okay.  This is such a pervasive issue. _

 

“Is she somebody famous?” Fran asks, craning her neck.

 

“Kind of, I guess?” Mariana admits.  “She’s famous enough to be in a group of people who get to talk to parents about what it’s like to be like us.”

 

“And all the parents have to listen?” Fran wonders.  “Because, no offense, but I don’t think they will listen if all the people are like us…”

 

“Well, they’re gonna have to start,” Jesus insists.  “Because they can’t keep treating you guys like they have been.”

 

“Did you get your questions answered?” Dominique asks.

 

“Basically, yeah.  And she said she’d watch for Moms and make sure they were, like, paying attention and whatever.  But once she knew them, she also knew me,” Mariana admits.

 

Jesus blows out a breath.  “What’d your gut say about her?  Could you trust her?”

 

“I mean...she said all the parents pretty much wanna keep low profiles.  None of them want anybody to know they’re even there.”

 

“Because it means they’re being mean to their kids with disabilities,” Fran fills in.  “Moms would hate people knowing that.”

 

“So, yeah, I don’t think it’s gonna be a thing.  She asked if we were safe, and I told her we are.  She said if I need anything, I can let her know. And she wanted me to tell you, Fran...that I guess, a few of the speakers have CP, too.”

 

“How does she know about my CP?  Oh, because of  _ Brandon _ .  Of course,” Fran sighs.

 

“Well,” Mariana admits flushing.  “I did tell her you had a disability, too, but not what it was.”

 

“Probably once she heard Moms’ names she put two and two together,” Jesus says.

 

“So are you guys friends now?” Fran asks.  “Are you friends with the famous person?”

 

“Her name is Rosa, and no.  I wouldn’t say we’re friends.  Acquaintances, maybe,” Mariana admits.  “We don’t know each other well enough to be friends.”

 

“Because you don’t text,” Fran fills in knowingly.

 

“What?” Pearl asks, laughing a little.

 

“With real friends you can trust, they have your cell phone number and they text you like every day,” Fran fills in.  

 

“Well, you’re right.  We aren’t texting. Anyway, did I miss anything?”

 

“No.  We’re just talking about how much we’re going to miss Levi and Pearl,” Fran fills in.  “And school,” she makes a face.

 

“You think you’ll be alright there?” Jesus asks.  “We can totally figure something out. One of us can come with you if you need.”

 

“No, I think I wanna go myself. Kimani and Shane and Bella all said they’d be my bodyguards in the hall and walk me to all my classes and stuff.”

 

“Did you tell them it was Mama you’re afraid of?” Mariana wonders.

 

“I said it was bullies…” Fran blushes.  “Which is kind of true. Because if Lena finds out I’m talking about her to other kids at school, that’s going to be bad news.”

 

“Right,” Jesus nods.  “That was good thinking.  And if you and Kimani and Shane and Isabella ever need grown up backup, you know where I am.”

 

“Yeah, right here,” Fran gestures.

 

“Can’t believe I missed that Rosa freakin Martinez retweeted y’all.  I’m losing my touch,” Dominique mutters.

 

“What do you mean?” Levi asks.

 

“Before we met, I really paid attention to what Jesus tweeted…” she admits.  Mariana sees the glint in Fran’s eyes and hopes she won’t start singing about sitting in a tree.  That taunt has been known to trigger Jesus.

 

Mariana shakes her head at Fran for a good measure.

 

“Because you  _ like _ -liked him?” Fran asks, restating.

 

“Francesca.  I didn’t know him.  I just...I also didn’t know many people who had gone through anything like what I had.  I wanted connection. Community. Like when you met Nico. You don’t  _ like _ -like him, right?”

 

“No,” Fran shakes her head.  “I just like that he’s like me.”

 

“Right, so I was just saying that I got pretty good at following along with y’all’s tweets and who was retweeting what.  But Rosa Martinez slipped by.”

 

“We forgive you,” Mariana reassures.  “It was cool to get to talk to her. For those same reasons.”

 

“Fran, I hate to be that guy, but you’ve got school tomorrow, buddy.  So you should start getting ready for bed,” Jesus tells her.

 

“But Mariana just got back!” Fran objects.

 

“We literally live together.  You’ll be fine. It’s not like we’re sending you by yourself,” Mariana reassures.

 

“Good night, buddy,” Fran says, giving Jesus a hug.

 

“Night, buddy,” Jesus replies.

 

“Good night, Levi,” Fran says, walking over with her arms open.  Levi accepts her gladly. Then, he hugs Mariana, too.

 

“See you two later,” he says.  

 

\--

 

“Mariana?” Fran asks, as they’re brushing their teeth.

 

“Wait until you spit,” Mariana cautions.  

 

The two minutes last forever, but finally, Fran does.  “It’s still so hard seeing Timothy every day.”

 

“Yeah?” Mari asks.

 

Fran nods.  “I think Moms expected me to just forget about him when last week happened, but…” she shrugs.  Shudders. “Ew. It’s almost Monday again. I hate Mondays.”

 

“I know the feeling,” Mariana reassures.  “But we’re still staying here. You’re not going home and they’re not gonna hit you even though it’s the same day.”

 

“But I still have to see Timothy,” Fran says.  “Whenever the sixth grade classes join up. And he just....pretends not to even see me.  I know it’s like, what Lena told him he had to do, but still. It’s rude.”

 

“Do you want a relationship with him when you turn eighteen?  Like, do you want to know him?” Mariana clarifies.

 

“I want to know him now,” Fran nods.  “If I have to wait then I have to wait, but I’m never going to not want to know him.  He’s a part of me.”

 

“Okay,” Mariana nods.

 

“Why?” Fran asks.

 

“Because...I know you can’t talk to him.  And he can’t talk to you. But I’m your big sister.  And I can put in a good word for you.”

 

“Really?” Fran asks, like she can’t believe her luck.

 

“Really,” Mariana nods.  “You deserve to know him if you want to.  There’s not a reason to keep him from you, especially since all the rest of us know ours.  It’s not fair. Moms don’t get that feeling.”

 

“Because they got to know their dads,” Fran sighs.

 

Mariana wraps her arm around Fran and squeezes.

 

Francesca hugs her back.  It’s long and as hard as she can, so Mari will know how much this means.  What she promised.

 

It’s such a good thing they have each other.  Francesca doesn’t know what she’d do without her sister.


	143. Birds of St. Marks

Jesus has just managed to sit down with Levi to do nothing but watch The Cooking Channel when Jesus’s phone rings.

 

His face splits into a wide grin as he shows Levi the screen.

 

“Mrs. Smith?” Levi reads, not fully connecting before Jesus picks up.  (Would’ve been cooler if Mari or Fran were here. They would get how epic this is.)

 

After they met up in July, she’d passed along her number, just in case he should need to call her for any reason.  It was still pretty soon after those pics got out, so she was probably thinking about that. And Jesus had passed along his own number, because, who is he kidding?  Hadn’t he dreamed about her calling him? Coming for him? Bringing him to her house, back when he was just a little pipsqueak making trouble in her class?

 

“Hello?” Jesus asks.

 

“Hi, Jesus?” she asks, and God, she sounds just the same.  

 

“Yeah.  Yeah, this is Jesus,” he says, at the same time as Levi interrupts in a hilarious stage-whisper: 

 

“ _Why is your teacher calling you_?”

 

“ _I don’t know, dude.  Give me a minute to figure it out_ ,” Jesus whispers back.

 

“I’m so sorry to call so late, but I keep meaning to, and then it’s mid-week and I have no time…” Mrs. Smith says.  She sounds the same way she used to when lots of them failed a test. Kinda frazzled.

 

“It’s fine.  I’m up late. What’s up?” Jesus asks.

 

“Well, I just had a thought...and you totally don’t have to say yes...but…  Do you remember how I mentioned speaking to my classes about consent and boundaries now?  Things like that?”

 

“I do, yeah,” Jesus says.  

 

(He wants to say _I remember everything you say_ , but he has the feeling that would sound way creepier than he means it.  It’s not that he had a crush on her - or has one now - it’s just...she was his first safe adult, at a time when he desperately needed one.)

 

“I was wondering if you’d be open to the idea of, maybe, coming in?  Speaking to the kids?”

 

“I do have a pretty solid grasp of consent.  And boundaries.” ( _After years of therapy, I should_ , Jesus thinks.)

 

“Anyway, you can take your time deciding.  Let me know how you feel about it.”

 

“Could we talk more?” Jesus asks.

 

“Absolutely,” Mrs. Smith agrees.

 

“How are things going?” Jesus asks, wanting to check in with her.  “Are you and your fam, like, all settled in?”

 

“Yeah, we are.  The kids are in school - at least the two older ones - and they like it,” Mrs. Smith passes along.

 

“They’re not at Anchor Beach, are they?” Jesus asks, wondering if there’s a possibility for Fran to maybe have a playmate in one of them.

 

“They’re not.  My daughter needs somewhere accessible, so they’re in public school.  I teach there, as well,” Mrs. Smith shares.

 

“I didn’t know that.  How old’s your daughter?” Jesus asks.

 

“Nine,” Mrs. Smith says, and he can hear the smile in her voice.  

 

“How many kids do you have?” Jesus asks.

 

“Three.  Giselle’s the oldest.  Gil’s seven and Lea’s two,” Mrs. Smith passes along.

 

“My sis is always kinda on the lookout for other kids like her.  She’s kinda the only one at Anchor Beach.”

 

“Yeah, Giselle’s in a similar boat at Birch Creek.  It’s pretty lonely being the only kid,” Mrs. Smith laments softly.

 

“Would you mind if...whenever we did this?  If maybe I didn’t come solo? Maybe I brought Mariana?  Or another friend who’s pretty well-versed in consent issues, too?” Jesus asks.

 

“Jesus, I want you to be comfortable.  That’s the bottom line. If you’re not comfortable doing this, or even thinking about it, I want you to say no.” Mrs. Smith tells him gently.

 

“Okay.  Well, I do wanna help.  I like talking to kids. Are you still teaching fifth grade?” he wonders.

 

“Third,” Mrs. Smith says.  “So they’ll be a little younger, but still plenty old enough to learn about the basics.”

 

“I just...one of my friends talked to my sister’s class earlier in the year?” Jesus hesitates.

 

“Mm-hmm,” Mrs. Smith answers, listening.

 

“And some of the kids were hella rude to her.  You know? Asking questions about her. I know these kids would probably be too young to know about me or any of what happened to me...but I mean I’ve had plenty of kids - even teachers - make a big deal about Dudley.  They ask about him. Wanna pet him. Or they just do it, without even asking,” Jesus shares.

 

“It makes sense that you’d be nervous about those things.  But listen, I have a pretty solid culture of respect in my class.  My kids at school? They know to listen if someone comes to share. They know what kinds of questions are welcome and which are invasive,” Mrs. Smith passes along.

 

“But, let’s say one did cross the line?  What would you do?” Jesus asks.

 

“I’d address it myself.  I would let the child know that those are not the types of questions you’re there to answer.  And I can be sure they understand not to touch or distract Dudley, too, without violating your privacy.”

 

“That would help.  Listen, I don’t really have a date in mind right now?  And I’m honestly kinda in the middle of a lot with my parents and trying to look out for my sisters.  I do wanna do this...but it might have to wait a bit. Like...maybe ‘til next month. Is that cool?”

 

“Sure.  Then I’ll have plenty of opportunity to prepare them.  I want you to have the safest experience you can here, Jesus.  And if you bring Mariana, or a friend? I want them to feel equally safe here.  So if they need anything, please let me know.”

 

“Will do.  Thanks, Mrs. Smith,” Jesus says.

 

“You’re welcome.  I hope everything works out for you and your sisters,” she says, and Jesus genuinely believes her.

 

“Thanks, me, too.” Jesus says and finally hangs up.  He feels a little bit like he used to when the sun would disappear behind a cloud as a kid.

 

Sad.  Like his world was just a bit less bright now.

 

\--

 

“Seriously, what did she want at 11 PM?” Levi insists.  “Also, isn’t it disconcerting to have your teacher call?”

 

“No,” Jesus shakes his head.  “It’s like...how do you feel when we call you?” 

 

“Oh.  Well, I feel good.  Seen. You know?” Levi asks.

 

“Well, Mrs. Smith is like that.  It’s probably pretty opposite actually.  You think about a teacher calling you and you probably think of homework you didn’t turn in or them talking to your parents.  I feel...maybe like how I should feel if Stef or Lena called me. Safe and whatever.”

 

“Oh,” Levi answers.  “So, she wants you to talk to her class or something?” he asks.

 

“Apparently,” Jesus shrugs.  “She said there’s no rush on it, which is good, because I’m not about to schedule things until I know Mari and Fran are safe.  And then I kinda wanna figure out of someone can go with me.”

 

“Pearl and I will be gone in November,” Levi remarks, let down.

 

“Yeah.  That’s why I was thinking Mari or Dom or someone,” Jesus admits.  “But I’m so not ready for you to go, dude. I’ve gotten used to having you here.”

 

“I know,” Levi nods.  “It’s been cool to not have to be so on edge most of the time.  I mean, things still come up. But I think overall? I like it so much more here.  It’s just the idea of leaving my mom that I can’t quite get my head around.”

 

“Yeah?  This is gonna sound bad...and it’s not how I mean it…” Jesus ventures.

 

“Okay…” Levi waits.

 

“Didn’t you kinda already do that?  With moving in with Pearl? And you were going, like, back to Colorado or something last year, right?  Like, you were super ready?” Jesus asks.

 

“Well, yeah, but that was before I could really talk to anybody about what happened to me.  Now that I can, it’s easier to spend time around my mom. I like to, even. And, I don’t know.  The idea of leaving her up there by herself is…”

 

“Hard,” Jesus finishes.

 

“I guess, yeah,” Levi nods.  “I mean, I totally want to move here eventually,  I just don’t know if I’m ready yet.”

 

“Yeah.  Well, it sounds like Pearl’s not quite there yet, either.  So you have time,” Jesus reassures. “We’re just gonna miss the hell out of you,” he says, putting an arm around Levi.

 

Levi laughs and leans into him.  “I know. Me, too.”

 

\--

 

Francesca feels so amazing having Dominique and Pearl drop her off at school.  They can even see Kimani, Shane and Isabella all waiting for her by the drop-off.

 

“Thanks for the ride!” Fran waves, adjusting her fanny pack.  She knows Lena doesn’t like her wearing it, but so what? She needs all her secret weapons.  Like Slothy and bandaids and antibiotic cream and her cell phone.

 

“You know where we are if you need us,” Pearl calls back.

 

“Hi, Dominique!  Hi, Pearl!” Isabella waves.  “Hi, Cleo!”

 

Even Shane and Kimani wave.

 

Fran gets out of the car and her friends surround her.  “Come on…” Shane says, “I know the best way to avoid the bullies…”

 

And Fran never exactly told him the real story, but somehow he just knows.  They walk extra to the doors that aren’t directly by the front offices and Lena.

 

“Yuck, it’s a gym day,” Fran wrinkles her nose.

 

“It’s okay, just do your best,” Kimani urges.

 

“I’ll run with you, when we have to run,” Shane offers.

 

“You mean you’ll say hi to us whenever you pass us…” Isabella jokes.

 

“That _is_ what you usually do, Shane,” Kimani says.

 

Fran laughs.  

 

They make it safely to gym and then Shane has to go to the boys’ locker room.  Lucky for her, Kimani and Isabella still can be with her in the girls’.

 

\--

 

Mariana wakes up to a Twitter notification:

 

_Rosa Martinez is following you_

 

There’s also a DM:

 

_RosaMartinez: Hi, Mariana.  After we spoke, I double-checked our registration.  Stefanie and Lena Adams Foster are both listed._

 

Mariana yawns.  Types a message back:

 

_NoSecretAnymor: Thanks.  P.S. Therapy today :/ They’re worried abt me plateauing.  I am worried. If I don’t reach everything by March, am I going to be screwed?  A failure?_

 

_RosaMartinez: Not a failure at all.  Two years is a myth. People recover at all different rates.  Less about recovery and more about learning to adapt. Finding what works for you._

 

_NoSecretAnymor: WTH - I’ve been busting my ass for 19m for a myth?_

 

_RosaMartinez: It was pretty popular stuff back when I was injured, too.  When I crossed the two-year mark and did not magically return to my former state, I fell into some major depression._

 

_NoSecretAnymor: So, that’s it?  There’s no hope? (Yes, Depression and I are well-acquainted…)_

 

_RosaMartinez: That’s just it.  The 24 month recovery thing being a myth IS hope.  It means there is time for improvement far beyond what was thought.  I’m not saying don’t try. I’m saying try differently. Give yourself permission to get to know yourself again.  Figure out what works for you._

 

_NoSecretAnymor: Any chance you’ll be talking about the myth to my moms?_

 

_RosaMartinez: A huge chance, yes._

 

_NoSecretAnymor: But therapy.  What do I do?_

 

_RosaMartinez: Well, would you say it’s helping you?  Or harming?_

 

_NoSecretAnymor: Harming.  Friends are doing adaptive things to the house so things are safer.  I don’t see why I have to go and be treated like trash._

 

_RosaMartinez: You’re an adult.  You don’t have to go. But if it would feel safer to wait til you come next Wed, we can talk to them together???_

 

_NoSecretAnymor: That would be amazing thank you._

 

_RosaMartinez: Anytime._


	144. For You

Pearl’s just about to bring a late breakfast over to the couch when the sudden, sharp sound of the brass door knocker against wood scares the crap out of her.

 

“What the hell was that?” Mariana insists, clutching her own chest.

 

“I mean…” Dominique’s equally shaken.

 

Pearl gets herself together first, her granola bar now on the floor being consumed by a proud Roberta, who pounced on the dropped treat the minute it hit the ground.

 

“Like you need anymore food,” Pearl remarks at the cat.  She gathers up Cleo, who licks her cheek in sympathy. “Let’s see if my heart can slow down so we can see who’s at the door.  Okay if I check?” Pearl asks.

 

“Go for it,” Dominique nods.

 

Pearl checks the peephole and sees a delivery man, with a large box.  “I think the shower chair is here,” she says over her shoulder.

 

“Oh, right.  Let them in before they decide no one’s home,” Dominique passes along.

 

“Thank you.  Just leave it out there.  We’ve got friends across the hall who offered to help with assembly…” she passes along.

 

Finally, he’s gone.

 

Pearl’s just closing the door, when Levi comes out of Jesus’s.  “Hey. Morning. Ooh, is that the shower chair?” he asks. Coming closer, he squints at her.  “Are you okay? I can, like, see your pulse right now.”

 

“Well, the person who delivered this believes in knocking obnoxiously loudly.  You missed the excitement. I threw my granola bar up in the air. Now Roberta’s eating it…”

 

“That...sounds like an awful start to the day.  Can we help?” Levi offers.

 

“With what?” Jesus asks, coming to the doorway, too.

 

“They got the chair,” Levi passes along.

 

“Y’all can put it together if you want.  Just, for the love of God, don’t knock with that door-knocker…” Dominique begs.

 

“Sure,” Jesus agrees and steps out into the hall, prepared to lug the box into his own apartment.  “We’ll bring this back when it’s all put together.”

 

“You guys okay?” Pearl asks.  

 

“His teacher called him,” Levi passes along, in a whisper.  

 

“Aw, no way!  Mrs. Smith called you?” Mariana says, overhearing.

 

“Yeah,” Jesus answers, coming back across the hall.  “She just...had an idea she wanted to run by me. Hey, did you know she has a daughter who’s like Fran a little bit?”

 

“Eleven?” Mariana asks.

 

“She uses a chair or something.  I asked if she went to Anchor Beach, you know, on the off chance that she and Fran missed each other there.  Giselle’s a couple grades below Fran...and…”

 

“She couldn’t go,” Mariana points out.  “They didn’t even give you an IEP or anything when you went back there in eighth grade.  Or before that…”

 

“For what?” Jesus asks.

 

Mariana drops her voice.  “Jesus. You had stuff going on before fourth grade.”

 

“Oh.  ADHD, you mean,” he nods. “Wait.  Did I need a thing for that? An IEP or whatever?”

 

“Probably would have helped you more than all the parent-teacher meetings and the groundings and whatever…” Maraina muses.

 

“I don’t even remember that,” Jesus admits.  “Anyway, I’m gonna go put this together.”

 

“But that’s cool she called you,” Mariana insists.  “And about her daughter.”

 

“I know.  Thanks,” Jesus flashes a smile.  “Wait. Are you all…? What happened?  Are you okay?”

 

“Someone knocked,” Pearl fills in.  “Loudly. So all our nerves are a bit frayed at the moment.”

 

“I hate that,” he makes a face.  “Well, take it easy. We won’t knock.  We promise,” Jesus insists.

 

\--

 

Once Jesus and Levi are back in Jesus’s apartment, with Dudley supervising.  They get to work on the chair. It’s super simple. And super stable. It’s nothing like the flimsy bench they picked up for Mariana last year.

 

Levi easily fits the back into its groove.  

 

Jesus starts on the legs.  “Dude, this is gonna be so, like, perfect for them,” he insists.

 

“I just...literally don’t understand.  And this isn’t me trying to badmouth your parents but, like...none of this stuff is hard to do.  I seriously don’t get why they didn’t ever make it a priority.”

 

“Well, maybe it’s easier without six kids…” Jesus muses.

 

“I’m sure it is,” Levi nods.  “But when a kid needs something?  Families prioritize. At least, they should.  There we go. Do we, like, wash this?” he asks.

 

“Uh...it’s going in the shower.  So probably not,” Jesus says.

 

“Good point,” Levi nods.  “I’m going to text them and see if Dom or someone wants to come out in the hall and bring it in, or if she wants us to…”  He waits a second for his phone to ping. “Sounds like we’re being requested,” Levi passes along.”

 

Jesus hangs onto Dudley’s leash.  The dog’s super-skittish around sudden moves or anything too above or near him.  So Jesus lets Levi carry the chair.

 

“Hey, it’s Levi and Jesus with the chair.  Can we come in?” Levi calls.

 

In seconds, Pearl’s opening the door, a fresh granola bar in hand.

 

“Oh, my God.  That looks amazing,” Pearl insists.  “Mariana, do you see this?”

 

Levi brings it into the living room and sets it down.

 

“Can you put it in there?  I want to test it out…” Mariana nods at the bathroom door.

 

“Sure, yeah,” Levi says.  

 

It takes a minute for him to move the patio chair out of the shower and replace it with the actual shower chair.  He tries to replicate the position it was in as closely as possible, so that Mariana won’t have to work to drag it anywhere.

 

“Hey, Mari?  Does this work?” Levi asks, stepping back into the living room and out of her path so she can investigate the chair.  Dominique comes, too.

 

“It looks so much better than the picture, even,” Dominique says, impressed.  “Oh, you’re gonna sit on it?”

 

“I have to see if it works,” Mariana insists, laughing.  “Oh wow. I might actually like showering a little bit now…” she says.

 

\--

 

Mariana doesn’t actually take a shower.  She’s not that dirty, and it’s been a while since it’s just been the adult Avoiders all in one place and able to talk.  So, they just kind of all sprawl out around Dominique’s living room.

 

“Thank you, guys.  That’s so much better than the crappy one,” Mariana says.  “And for the railing, too.”

 

“You don’t have to thank us,” Jesus says.  “That’s stuff you guys should have already had.  Everybody else can get in and out of the house and take showers.  We don’t feel major gratefulness about it.”

 

“No, you’ve never had to.  It’s always been a thing for you,” Mariana answers.

 

“Well, yeah, for the most part, except…” Jesus ventures, stopping abruptly.

 

“Except?” Mariana echoes.  

 

“Sorry, I was about to drop some kidnapping trauma right in the middle of this conversation,  But I know it can be touchy, so…” Jesus gives Dominique a meaningful look.

 

“It’s fine,” Dominique reassures.

 

“It’s not,” Mariana insists.  “You don’t have to just let us talk about whatever.  We can consider you.”

 

“You can always find a way to talk around it,” Pearl encourages Jesus.  “I’ve become pretty adept at finding ways to spare Levi any mention of his trauma.”

 

“Let’s just say I know what a big deal it is…” Jesus starts again.  “The showering. Not in the same way, but… When you don’t have access to something?  It’s kind of a big deal when you do…”

 

“Stef used to yell at me.  If I didn’t use her crappy bench,” Mariana passes along.  “She hated having to come and help me.”

 

“I came and helped you sometimes, like, with other stuff,” Jesus remembers.  “It so wasn’t as big a deal as she and Lena made it.”

 

“Then why am I sitting here feeling like…?” Mariana ventures.

 

“What are you feeling like?” Levi asks.

 

Mariana leans over and whispers to Dominique.  “It’s about money.” She raises her eyebrows in a question.  She’s not about to just go for it, knowing how triggering money talk can be for Dom.

 

And she’s close enough to see the fear in her eyes when Dominique’s eyes dart to Mari’s face.

 

“I gotta go do something anyway.  I’ll be back,” Dominique excuses herself and Mariana waits until she’s in the bathroom with the fan on until she continues.

 

“I feel...like..I’m in a financial hole.” Mariana admits.  “Dominique bought the chair. Jesus, you bought the railing.  Levi helped put both things in. Not to mention plane tickets and whatever else Pearl spent money on to get you guys here in the first place.  We can’t pay that back…”

 

“And you shouldn’t,” Levi insists gently.  “That’s what we’re trying to say.” He pauses and takes a breath.  Then slows down a little. “This stuff you have? Us being here? The chair?  The railing? That’s emotional support and accommodations.”

 

“Yeah, I know that,” Mariana snaps.

 

“Yeah, but do you know it’s not extra?” Jesus asks, soft.  “That it’s all basic, human stuff that no one else has to worry about having?”

 

Mariana shrugs.

 

“I get feeling indebted, trust me,” Jesus says.  “I do. And I know even us talking to you about this isn’t necessarily going to take the feeling away but we wanna do this stuff.  We want you to have it. Because we want you to be safe.”

 

“But it’s hard to  _ feel _ that...when all I’ve got is...them in my head being like: ‘ _ Do you know how much an ambulance ride costs?   _ Just  _ an ambulance ride? _ ’”

 

“That’s a comment on how messed up American healthcare is,” Levi remarks.  “It shouldn’t be put on you like that..”

 

“And yet…” Mariana sighs.  “I’m saying thank you. Can’t I just say thank you?” 

 

“Of course, you can,” Pearl nods.  “But just know that we’re not about to hold any of this over yours or Fran’s heads.”

 

Mariana nods and then goes over to call into the bathroom:

 

“Hey.  It’s safe to come back out if you want.”

 

In seconds, Dominique emerges, phone in hand.

 

“What’s up?” Pearl asks her.  “Anything?”

 

“No, just checking texts and Polos to see if Fran sent anything...and I might’ve been on Twitter checking out Rosa Martinez’s page…” she admits.

 

“I talked to her again this morning,” Mariana passes along.

 

“What?” Dominique asks.  “No way. Did you reach out or did she?”

 

“She did.  Wanted to make sure I knew that she saw with her own eyes that Moms were registered.”

 

“So jealous…” Dominique admits with a big smile.  “But happy for you, too.”

 

“Yeah, she said she’d be willing to talk to Moms with me about therapy and whatever.  So I might not have to go - or maybe not as often? I don’t know. But I really need a break.”

 

“I know,” Jesus answers, sympathetic.  “I hope she’s able to help and that Moms come around and listen to you.  Hey, do you think I’d be welcome at the thing?” he asks.

 

“What do you mean?” Mariana asks.

 

“I mean, they kinda specifically said you and Fran were supposed to come.  But I’d like to. I guess, first...would you be okay with that?”

 

“I mean, I was kinda hoping you would…” Mari says.  “I don’t wanna speak for Fran, but I feel like she’d say the same.”

 

“Also, do you think it’s gonna...I don’t know...turn into a whole thing if I show up there?  I mean, maybe there’s a reason Moms didn’t ask me to go…” Jesus ventures.

 

“I’m sure they’d rather you didn’t.  But...they’ve done stuff to you, too.  You deserve to be there if you want to be,” Mariana reasons.

 

“What do you guys think?” Jesus asks, looking to Pearl, Levi and Dominique, in turn.  “I’d love to hear from everybody.”

 

“Because you value our opinions, or because you don’t trust your own?” Pearl asks, knowingly.

 

“Both?” Jesus admits.

 

“Well, I support you in whatever you wanna do, and it sounds like you wanna go,” Levi points out.  “Mari and Fran obviously want you there. Who cares what strangers think? I mean...that came out wrong.  I know they’re a big deal for you.”

 

“It’s okay, I get what you mean,” Jesus nods.  He turns to Dominique, raising his eyebrows.

 

“I’d go.  Piss everybody off,” Dominique insists.  

 

Jesus smiles a little.  Finally, he turns to Pearl:

 

“It’s a family day, isn’t it?” she asks rhetorically.  “By that logic, you and any of the rest of your brothers and sisters who wanted to go should be able to go.  It’s especially relevant for anyone they’ve mistreated, I think, to get to say something about that if they want.”

 

“But what if people talk about me?” Jesus worries.

 

“I think it’s anonymous,” Mariana shares.  “Remember? None of the parents want anybody else knowing they’re there.  So...I don’t know...maybe...by whatever...anybody else that comes will be protected as well.  Rosa knows who I am, and who Fran is. She recognized Moms’ names, but she’s not harassing you, is she?”

 

“I’m not worried about her,” Jesus objects.

 

“He’s worried about the other parents,” Levi puts in.

 

“Well, they can’t talk about you being there without outing that they were there themselves…” Dominique points out.  “So, maybe that works in your favor.”

 

“You guys really think it’d be cool if I went?  I just...don’t want it to turn into The Jesus Show, you know?”

 

“What if you drive us separately?  Then if it gets to be too much or whatever - for you, or Fran or me - then we can just leave?”

 

“That’s an awesome idea,” Jesus says.  “And way better than letting them drive you to wherever the thing is.”

 

“Trapped in a car with them for however much time?  No, thank you,” Mariana bristles. “But we’ve got you.  You know that, right?”

 

“I do,” Jesus nods.  “Do you know _ we’ve _ got  _ you _ ?”

 

“Yeah...just...I’m scared about how all of it will go…” Mariana admits.

 

“When we’re there, we stick together.  The three of us. None of them getting us alone or anything like that,” Jesus decides.

 

“I’d like to think they’ll be too busy to bother you,” Pearl adds.

 

“Let’s hope…” Mariana says softly.


	145. Alone

Dominique keeps pretty quiet about what it all means.  

 

Even though she’s opening up more around her friends, there are just some things she can’t discuss.  She’s heard a lot about significant trauma days for the rest of them. What they mean. What each of her friends remembers.

 

But all the words Dominique needs to say dam up at the base of her throat, until she can’t say anything.  She takes the out when Mariana offers it. The chance to go sit in the bathroom. She turns on the fan. Focuses on the new shower chair sitting in her shower - unique touches she never would have seen in any of the rooms.  With any of the men.

 

But in the end, just being there is too much. Reminds her of being back there, at eleven.  Being made up so she looked much older. Dressing, for the first time, in clothes that weren’t hers.

 

_ “Put these on,” a voice commands. _

 

_ Dominique stands, frozen, staring at the pile of them.  She’ll be cold. The shorts will barely cover her butt. The tights have holes.  The shirt will show her belly. _

 

_ A slap stings her face, knocking her head to the side.  She puts her hand up to stop the pain, but it doesn’t help much. _

 

_ “When I tell you to do something, do it!”  The voice has a face now. Brittany.   _

 

_ Dominique swallows.  “I thought we were friends…” _

 

_ “Oh, please,” Brittany scoffs. _

 

_ “Take me back to the community center, please…  Just drop me off there. I bet my parents are looking for me.  I won’t tell them anything.” _

 

_ “Amber.  Shut. Up.”  Brittany says, in a low, scary voice.  “If I tell you to talk? Then you can talk.” _

 

_ “Who’s Amber…?” Dominique asks, feeling her stomach clench.  (The man said Amber, too, shoving her into his van…) _

 

_ This time knuckles crunch against Dominique’s face.  “Don’t get smart with me. You talk when I say you can talk.  We are not friends. Act like we are, and you’ll get yourself killed.” _

 

_ Dominique gulps back the tears.  She has to do whatever Brittany says.  So, she listens, like she’s gonna be tested on all this information.  She puts on the clothes with shaking hands. _

 

_ A man walks in right in the middle of her changing. _

 

_ Smacks Brittany so her mouth bleeds, too, and she falls back on the floor. _

 

_ “You messed up her face?  You fix it. She’s not gonna bring in any money looking like that…” he snaps.  Then, he turns to Dominique, touches her on the face, gently. Looks at her in a way that creeps her out.  She really has to pee, but she stands still, still, still like a statue. She has to pee, but doesn’t. _

 

_ “Don’t you worry, baby.  Daddy’s gonna take good care of you…” he says. _

 

_ Dominique’s skin is crawling as he leaves.  Brittany sits up and glares at her. Her face is all red.  Tears are in her eyes. She puts makeup on Dominique real rough.  But she thinks about what the man said.   _

 

_ Is Daddy coming here?  Does he know where this place is? _

 

_ She really hopes so.  Because she just wants to get out of here and go back home.  She wants to play with her new birthday stuff and practice her cheer routine. _

 

_ But instead the door opens to the bathroom.  And there’s a man on the bed. And Brittany says she has to watch and learn how to do everything exactly. _

 

_ Or else. _

 

_ So, Dominique tries to watch, but it’s gross and private and she has to look away. _

 

_ But the second she does, the man gets up.  Goes to her. Pulls her toward the giant bed…  The pain is worse than anything Dominique has ever felt.  And it goes on and on and on, until Dominique’s brain just shuts down. _

 

_ And she knew that learn actually meant obey. _

 

_ Don’t speak.   _

 

_ Don’t cry. _

 

_ Do what you’re told.  Whenever you’re told. _

 

_ After that first time?  It feels like Dominique dies.  The soul part of her. The part that makes her really Dominique.  Amber is just the name for her body. The rest of her. Left behind.  To do whatever they want her to do. _

 

Dominique blinks and focuses on her phone screen.  Pulls up her Marco Polo app to check for messages from Francesca.  There aren’t any. No texts either. She must be okay.

 

(Or she’s not.  She did just vanish two nights ago…)

 

Checks Twitter.  Finds herself in her Screenshots album staring at old tweets Mom had sent out.  Tweets with her fifth grade school picture. Urging anyone who had seen her to call the San Diego Police.

 

She catches herself humming.  The lyrics they all said she was too young to know burned into her mind from memorable performances on American Idol back when she’d been six...and ten.

 

Mom and Dad never told her she was too young to sing it.

 

“ _...Til now...I...always got by on my own.  I never really cared until I met you… And now it chills me to the bone.  How do I get you alone?” _

 

There’s a tap on the door. Dominique blinks.  

 

“Hey.  It’s safe to come back out if you want,” Mariana says, from the other side of the door.

 

Dominique shuts the fan and comes out, holding her phone.

 

“What’s up?  Anything?” Pearl checks.

 

“No, just checking texts and Polos to see if Fran sent anything...and I might’ve been on Twitter checking out Rosa Martinez’s page…”

 

(She can’t tell them she’s actually been staring at her own fifth grade school photo.  At Mom’s tweets from back then. She knows Jesus would probably get it but she just...doesn’t want to share it.)

 

So instead, she joins the conversation, telling Mariana how jealous (and happy) she is that she’s in touch with Rosa Martinez.  Urging Jesus to go to the family day at the damn workshop and piss everybody off.  

 

(That part of her is thirteen.  Jaded. Bitter as hell. And done trying to please people, but scared shitless not to.)

 

She’s staring off when Roberta nudges her.  Walks into her lap and gets comfortable.

 

“You okay?” Levi asks.

 

Now’s her chance.  Dominique swallows.  She has no idea what’s about to come out of her mouth.  “Just...lying my ass off…”

 

“Oh?” Pearl asks.  “How do you mean?”

 

“I mean, if my ass were made of lies, it’d be gone right about now…” Dominique quips, sharp.  But her damn voice gives her away with its shaking.

 

“Here.  Levi...let’s uh...back up?  Give Dominique some space,” Jesus urges.

 

“What?  You’re leaving now?” Dominique asks, her voice rising.

 

“They’re giving you space,” Mariana clarifies.

 

“I don’t need space!  I need y’all to look at me!” Dominique insists her voice trembling.  “Give a shit when I’m lying!” Her eyes are blurry. Her throat choked.

 

“We do,” Pearl answers.  

 

“I recognize that,” Jesus adds.  “It’s why I moved back with Levi.  Because when I lie, it’s like… It’s because I feel like I have to.  To stay safe. So, maybe it means you don’t feel safe right now…”

 

Roberta’s stopped purring in Dom’s lap, but she stays, using her ample girth to anchor Dominique in there here and now, and not somewhere in time.

 

Jesus’s answer draws Dominique up short.  “I’m...having a flashback. This… I mean these are the...early days?  Like, right after I got...after I was…”

 

“Okay,” Jesus nods.  “We’re with you.”

 

“If you need to process it, we’re here.  We can listen,” Pearl offers. “Or we can find Lena for you.  Or turn on some show tunes and get you some water. Your choice.”

 

“First one,” Dominique manages.

 

“Okay.  We can listen,” Pearl nods.

 

“I remembered….in the bathroom.  How I was in another one. How she was telling me stuff.  Hitting me. She said she wasn’t my friend, but she was. I thought she was.”

 

“That sounds confusing,” Pearl offers.

 

“And scary,” Mariana adds.

 

“It was,” Dominique nods.  “She kept trying to call me some other person’s name.  And I was like, “ _ Who do you mean?  Who is that?” _ and she hit me.  She thought I was being smart, but I wasn’t.”

 

“Right, if this person was your friend, then she’d be around you enough to know your name,” Pearl fills in.

 

“Exactly.  So anyway...didn’t take long for me to understand the need for the other name.”

 

Dominique can see Jesus cocking his head.

 

“She’s who they called me after they killed who I was,” Dominique offers in a soft, matter-of-fact voice.

 

“That makes so much sense,” Jesus nods.  “I always hated the other name, too.”

 

Dominique meets his eyes, forgetting for a minute that she had conjured him to cope.  That pretty soon, waiting around in those stuffy hotel rooms with nothing to do got boring as hell.  And she’d needed somebody to talk to.

 

“Are you alright that we’re here?” Levi asks.  “Or would you rather we leave? I know you said you wanted us here.  I just...I know things can change. Get more scary.”

 

“I don’t want y’all to go.  I know you’re not them. I just...need to talk about it.  I never have. Not to any of y’all,” Dominique sniffs.

 

“We get that this is a big deal,” Mariana reassures.  “And we’re here. And we’re proud of you.”

 

“Okay,” Dominique manages.

 

“What else do you need to share?” Pearl wonders.

 

“I hummed.  In there?” Dominique nods behind her to the bathroom.  “And it was this song all of them liked hearing, because I just happened to sing it once when one of ‘em asked if I had any special talents.  I thought of, like, a talent show? In fifth grade I’d performed this song I’d been pretty in love with for, like years.”  

 

“So he said a thing about talents and you thought of your elementary school talent show…” Levi shakes his head.  “Damn…”

 

“What?” Dominique glances up, worried.

 

“Nothing,” Levi shakes his head.  “You were just a baby is all.”

 

“So, you were singing this?  Humming it? In there?” Mariana asks.  

 

Dominique nods.

 

“Did you know you were?” Mari presses.

 

“Not at first, no.  Then, yes.” Dominique admits.  “Also, do y’all wanna know how I lied?”  She strokes Roberta’s long grey fur. The cat’s pleasingly heavy and soft.

 

“If you wanna share,” Jesus nods.  “We wanna listen to whatever you need to tell us.   If it’s important to you, it’s important to us.”

 

“I wasn’t really looking at Rosa’s Twitter,” Dominique admits.  “I was looking at this…” She hands her phone across to Levi first.  She doesn’t know why. She just...doesn’t want to jar Mariana or hurt Jesus.  And Pearl and Dominique have kinda connected over this, but Levi’s shown a real concern around it.

 

“That’s you…” Levi breathes.  “Oh, wow. Dominique, I’m so sorry.”  He hands the phone back to her.

 

“It’s a post Mom made on Twitter.  When I got home, I found it. I’ve kept a screenshot of it.  I just...didn’t wanna catch y’all off guard with it,” Dominique tells Jesus and Mariana.  “If you wanna see, I can show you.”

 

Mariana nods, and Dominique holds out her phone.  She looks and blinks back tears.

 

Next, Dominique shows Jesus, who gets exactly what this is.  He doesn’t say anything. Just asks, “Did you see it? You know, when you were gone?”

 

“Dad hung posters,” Dominique confides.  “I saw those.”

 

“You were so young,” Pearl breathes.  “I’m so glad you made it. That you’re here with us,” she says, wiping her eyes.

 

“Is it…  Are y’all okay with this?  Me sharing? It’s just… I feel like I’m starting to need to share.  And with Fran at school it seemed like a good time, but I don’t wanna be messing with anybody else’s healing, or trauma or whatever…”

 

“You’re not,” Jesus says.  “It helps. Knowing you kinda know what it’s like.”

 

“I’m glad you’re sharing if you want to,” Mariana nods.  “I know...it’s been kind of a tough day with the knock on the door and whatever…”

 

“String of days, actually,” Levi clarifies.  “We’ve had a lot going on. Makes sense that you’d need to process.  I’m glad you felt like you could talk to us.”

 

“Sorry for taking your heads off, though…” Dominique apologizes.  “When I’m triggered...I don’t know...either I’m really dissociated or I just get mad.  My inner...I don’t know what the hell she is...thirteen-year-old? She’s just done with everything,”  

 

“Hard to be out right in front of people’s faces and have nobody give a damn,” Jesus offers.  “You guys all know that now when that happens? When people recognize me? I just wanna punch them.”

 

“Well, I didn’t wanna punch you.  I was just mad,” Dominique amends.  “Levi, I didn’t scare you, did I?”

 

“No.  You didn’t,” he says, and he looks calm enough.

 

“Okay,” she answers.  “It’s really okay that I shared all this?” she asks.  “And none of it will leave here?”

 

“No, none of it will leave,” Mariana swears.

 

“And it’s definitely okay,” Levi reassures.

 

“Thank you for trusting us.  I know it’s not easy to do. We’re here.  And we’re really glad you shared,” Pearl insists, snuggling Cleo and wiping her eyes.

 

“Thanks for being here,” Dominique sniffs.


	146. Boys Like You

It feels strange - being able to be open about this - it’s definitely the first time Dominique has been able to allow herself to trust the group of them with any part of her experience.  It’s not much, in the grand scheme of things. Just moments out of ten months gone.

 

But she needs to go slowly.  Take her time with this.

 

“Why didn’t one of y’all go with me?” she asks quietly, petting Roberta.

 

“I’m sorry?” Levi asks.

 

Dominique nods at the bathroom behind her.  “I mean...I was glad for the heads up, Mariana.  But, like…” she shrugs. “Figured we were past the thing where…” she swallows a lump in her throat.

 

“I’m so sorry,’ Pearl apologizes.  “That’s on me. Clearly. I missed that you were needing someone.  I should have seen it.”

 

“It hurts...being constantly forgotten,” Dominique shares.  “I mean...I know. Y’all can’t read my mind. And maybe I’m just too good at hiding it.  I picked the bathroom on purpose. Knowing it’s private. Knowing none of y’all could follow me...and what?  Now I’m mad you didn’t?”

 

“If I were you…” Levi ventures.  “I’d’ve picked the bathroom because it has a fan.  To mute the stuff being said out here.”

 

“It’s not y’all’s fault.  It’s mine,” Dominique insists.

 

“No.  Don’t do that,” Pearl speaks up.  “I’m an adult. I can take this. In this situation, I should’ve been your safe person, and I dropped the ball.  I’m sure that younger you is used to taking all the blame...but please know that it’s not on you.”

 

“Sometimes...I just don’t even know I’m doing it.  Covering anything, you know?” Dominique admits, breathing a sigh of relief at Pearl’s words.

 

“It can be easy to slip back,” Jesus offers, soft.  “But it is up to the people around you to pick up on your cues.  And even if we don’t see them, to remember that we don’t send one of us off by ourselves.”

 

“Which, that wasn’t what I was trying to do…” Mariana speaks up.  “I hope you know that. I wasn’t trying to send you away.”

 

“I got that,” Dominique nods.  “It just...I mean, you know, Jesus.  It’s the time of year. Doesn’t take much for flashbacks.”

 

“Right,” he nods.  “I do know. Which, speaking of…  Did you need to share anything else?”

 

“Are you okay if I talk about her?” Dominique asks Jesus.

 

“Who is she?  In context?” Jesus asks.

 

“Oh.  Brittany.  She’s...the one who tricked me into getting into her car first,” Dominique shares.

 

“I’m okay so far,” Jesus nods.  “Thanks for checking in.”

 

“Yeah, so...she…  It was… I don’t know where I wanna start…” Dominique manages.

 

“Take your time,” Pearl urges.  

 

“It’s weird that I knew her, I guess?  I mean, I thought I knew her. She spent all this time talking to me.  Getting to know me. Told me she used to take dance at the same community center where I did cheering.”

 

“Wait.  You did cheering?” Mariana asks.  “That’s amazing.”

 

“Oh.  Yeah, I did.  I was on a team and everything.  The day it happened, Dad had just dropped me off there.  Anyway, I’d met Brittany...probably right after I started there?  I would’ve been ten. She was eighteen. And she used to show me all her dance moves  in the parking lot while I waited to get in or afterward, you know?”

 

“So, you really felt like you knew her well,” Levi surmises.

 

“Yeah.  Or I would’ve never gotten in a car with her.  She was so upset that day. Crying and stuff. Said she needed someone to watch her kid.  She had a car seat in the back and everything. I’d met Milo. He was sweet. And I hated seeing Brittany cry...so…”

 

“So, you went,” Jesus says, matter of fact.

 

“And anyway, it was just weird to have her...I don’t know...have these two faces?” Dominique offers.  “Like, she acted like this whole other person whenever she drove by around cheer practices. And then when she had me in that bathroom?  She was cold. Hard. She hit me. Punched me. I was so stunned. I didn’t even know what to do.”

 

“My...um...my situation’s a bit different?” Pearl ventures, hesitant.  “I just wanted to offer that I completely relate to her being two-faced.  My...I don’t even know what to call him...but he was also nineteen. I saw him almost daily for years.  And yet, when he had me where he wanted me? He transformed. It’s something very few people get. Because they often only see the one side of the person.  The good side.”

 

“Even after the fact...she was about the only one they could charge?  Brittany…” Dominique confides. “And still...she didn’t get much time…  Like, she’s out now. They act like she ain’t dangerous...but she’s the reason I was there in the first place.”

 

“Do your parents know she’s out?” Mariana asks.

 

“Yeah.  She’s in another state.  Not Minnesota,” Dominique reassures Levi and Pearl.  “Like...Montana or Wyoming or something…”

 

“Dude.  That’s just…” Jesus begins.

 

“Yeah, be glad yours is dead,” Dominique remarks, bitter.

 

“I get what you mean...but he wasn’t  _ my _ anything,” Jesus remarks, quiet.

 

“Sorry.  I know. Just...you’re lucky.  Having them out walking around is the worst…”

 

For a minute, Dominique’s stunned as she sees Mariana, Pearl and Levi all nodding in agreement.  Though their situations aren’t carbon copies of each other in the least, they can relate to having their abusers walking free in the world.  Pearl and Levi even run into theirs regularly.

 

That would be hell.

 

It’s bad enough not knowing whether she’s gonna see any of the men who paid for her.  Luckily, they wouldn’t know about her injuries, so seeing those might convince them that they never crossed paths.

 

“Anyway...Brittany’s kinda the reason I don’t really trust.  Why it takes me years to open up,” Dominique says.

 

“Makes sense,” Jesus nods.  “She spent a year earning your trust.  And then she used that against you in the worst way.  Just in case you need to hear it, though? None of us are gonna exploit you.”

 

Dominique nods.  She  _ has _ needed to hear it.

 

“And we’ll do better about making sure you have somebody with you…” Pearl offers.

 

“Fran, too,” Dominique says.  “We can’t have her just giving us a break whenever she thinks we need it.  We need to be better about checking in with her.”

 

“That really shook you up,” Levi observes.

 

“Tell me it didn’t shake y’all, too,” Dominique insists.  By now, they’re up, gathering whatever they want for lunch.  Mariana’s taken over the couch. Dominique keeps talking as she’s in the kitchen.  “You wanna know how long it takes girls like us to disappear? It took me about two seconds of consideration before I decided, in all my wisdom, that Brittany needed me.  Once I was in her car and that car was moving? I had no chance. She’d even taken my phone before I realized what she was doing,” Dominique recalls.

 

“Hey.  You okay?  Pearl asks, coming up beside Dom.  “You need to breathe?”

 

Taking the hint, Dominique drags in some air.

 

“I’m not saying we don’t want to listen.  We do,” Pearl reassures Dominique. “You just...I don’t know...seem panicky…”

 

“At the idea that Francesca could have gone missing.  Yeah, I’m panicked about that,” Dominique blurts. “And yes, it was two days ago, but it takes me some time to...whatever the hell is happening.”

 

“You’re feeling,” Pearl offers gently.  “And that’s good. It’s healthy. It makes sense that you’re panicking.”

 

“Thank you,” Dominique breathes out slowly.

 

“You’re welcome.  I just wanted to add, casually, that you’re safe here with us.  Fran’s safe at school right now. No one’s disappearing,” Pearl tells her.

 

“No, I know, it just…”

 

“Hits close to home,” Mariana finishes from her place on the couch, eyes closed.  “I know.”

 

“I always feel like the biggest liar in the world whenever she comes to me, worried about something like this happening to her,” Jesus shares.

 

“Why?” Dominique asks.

 

“Because I used to tell her it wasn’t gonna happen to her.  Like, I gave her a hard no. Just because the probability of that happening twice in one family is, like, ridiculously low…” Jesus confesses.  “But if anyone knows the reality that it can happen? And how fast it can happen? It’s us. Right?” Jesus looks in turn at Dominique. Then Pearl.

 

“Definitely,” Pearl says.

 

“We’re gonna do our best to protect her,” Jesus promises.  “And each other. And I know that even that’s not enough sometimes.  But we have to try.”

 

Dominique nods.  “I know. And I know y’all protect her.  I’m sorry for yelling.”

 

“You can yell,” Levi nods.  “You probably have a lot saved up.  Maybe you finally feel like you can let some of that out.”

 

“And not get sent to the damn office over it…” Dominique remarks.

 

“No wonder you stopped yelling,” Pearl observes, no doubt remembering Dominique’s call from Fran’s school months ago, having run across a well-dressed white dude.  Principal, maybe.  

 

“So, yeah.  For real, I’m not scaring you, Levi?  Am I?” Dominique wonders.

 

He smiles a little.  “Why is it always me you’re afraid of scaring?”

 

“Because you’re triggered by women who lose their tempers,” Dominique tells him easily, remembering an early conversation.

 

Levi looks surprised.

 

“What?  I remember what you say,” Dominique insists.

 

“Apparently,” Levi answers, blowing out a breath, impressed.  “And, just for the record, it’s certain women…” He cuts his eyes to Pearl.

 

“And certain women related to me,” Pearl nods, knowing.  “I’m not offended, Levi. You’re fine.”

 

Dominique still finds herself hesitating.  “I just...I hope y’all don’t hate me...for taking my time to open up about this…”

 

“We don’t,” Jesus says, meaning it.  “No two people react the same. And our situations obviously weren’t the same.  I get that it’s taken you some time. It makes sense, especially as we weren’t necessarily proving ourselves to be trustworthy.  Leaning on you and then not being there or even asking if you needed us back.”

 

“Just...it means a lot,” Dominique manages.  “To be able to share when I’m ready and not feel pressured.  And I do hope I’m not messing with anybody’s trauma by being so open about mine.  I know how that can be. And how it can be hard to share in the wake of someone else..sharing  _ their _ stuff.”

 

“I’m okay,” Jesus tells Dominique.

 

“And I’m okay,” Levi echoes.  “You don’t have to watch out for us like this.  It’s not a thing you have to do with us.”

 

Dominique hears what he’s not saying.  What he might not even know he’s referring to, but what Dominique hears nonetheless.  He’s hitting really close to her tendency to cushion and cater to men around her. To make sure they’re safe.  They feel heard. They’re not mad.

 

She lets out a breath.  “Thank you. I...really needed to hear that…” Dominique manages.

 

“For the record, I’m okay, too,” Pearl adds.  “I mean, I definitely have things on my mind, but none of them are a reaction to what you shared.  Even if they were, I’d welcome it. The chance to share eventually, when so much of my life has been stifled emotionally.”

 

“Mariana, are you okay?” Dominique asks.

 

“I’m wishing I could have every conversation like this,” she calls, still resting on the couch.

 

“But are you triggered by me?” Dominique checks.

 

“Hell no.  I’m glad you can share.  Proud of you for it. I know it can be brutal.  Not knowing if you can open up. If you’ll be heard.  Or believed. But we believe you.”

 

“I know it’s support group stuff, and it’s so not support group,” Dominique breathes.

 

“Trauma doesn’t always keep to a timetable,” Jesus points out.

 

“And you haven’t necessarily shared this stuff there either,” Pearl points out.  “I’m not judging. Just saying, maybe the smaller number of us has something to do with it.”

 

“It could,” Dominique acknowledges.  “Seriously, though. I appreciate all of this.  But I think I’m done for now. Pearl, if you wanna share something, go for it.”

 

“Thanks.  I think I will,” Pearl answers, clearing her throat.

 


	147. Unstoppable

“Is it strange to say I find this relaxing?” Pearl asks.  “Just being able to talk and share and not censor ourselves?”

 

“It’s like a relief,” Mariana echoes.  

 

“Yes, exactly,” Pearl nods.  “And...I also wanted to know if, Levi, you’re okay if I share about my family…”

 

“Her?” he asks.

 

“Tangentially,” Pearl allows.

 

“As long as I know it’s coming,” he nods.  “I’m okay.”

 

“So…” Pearl leans back on her arms.  “I have also been getting annoying calls from family.”

 

“Who’s calling you?” Jesus asks.  “Didn’t you change your number?”

 

“Like, twice?” Dominique adds.  “Because Grandma Not-West found it?”

 

“Yes, well, she keeps finding it…” Pearl shrugs.  “I’m trying to keep my circle small - with regard to people who I give my contact information to - but it doesn’t seem to be helping.  She keeps finding ways to circumvent my block on her calls. Most recently, she’s gotten a brand new number. So that call slipped through.”

 

“What’s she want?” Levi asks.

 

“I think she thinks if she can get a huge lead on things that she can convince me to show up for Thanksgiving.  But that’s not happening,” she reassures him.

 

“Good,” Mariana says.  “You guys need to stay together.”

 

“Why do you say that?” Pearl asks, catching the wince on Levi’s face.

 

Mariana opens her eyes, and stares at Pearl, incredulous.  “Do you seriously not know? Levi, does she seriously not know?”

 

“It’s fine,” Levi reassures.  “It’s not her fault. She just found out.  And it’s not like I’ve been super open about it.”

 

“Can someone please tell me what we’re discussing?” Pearl asks.

 

“Thanksgiving…  It’s just… Dad died on Thanksgiving two years ago...so it’s not really my favorite holiday…”

 

Pearl’s mouth falls open.  “So, last year when I went to Mom’s and it was awful and you said you had other plans?”

 

Levi shrugs, blinking back tears.  “Mom and I don’t really celebrate it anymore.  It’s too sad. He loved Thanksgiving.”

 

“Oh my God.  So you were home alone?” Pearl asks, upset.

 

“It wasn’t the exact day, Pearl.  It fell a couple days earlier, so it was fine,” Levi reassures.

 

“No, it’s not fine.  I don’t even know what day this is.  I’ve never known. When you came to find me, you just said he’d died in November, not when in November…”

 

“You never asked,” Levi shrugs, sad.

 

“Maybe because I grew up believing he was dead for  _ years _ , and knowing I never had any…”  She swallows. “Asking questions wasn’t an option.”

 

“How was I supposed to know that?  I just...figured if you cared, you’d ask…” Levi insists.

 

Pearl’s mouth drops open.  “Is that seriously what you think of me?”

 

“What else am I supposed to think, Pearl?” Levi asks, raw grief shining in his eyes.

 

“Okay.  Can I call time, please?” Jesus asks.  “There’s a lot of major emotions happening right now, and I get that.  “Both of you obviously have hurt feelings and a ton of grief. But respectful conversation is still a thing.  So when one of you talks, the other one listens. Asks questions if they have them. Because that’s one hundred percent safe to do.”

 

Pearl sighs.  She feels uselessly inept.  Detests the feeling.

 

“Pearl, do you wanna know the date for your dad?” Jesus asks softly.

 

Drawing in a slow, deep breath gives Pearl the time she needs to consider saying she’ll just look it up on her phone with the information she has, and then let go of that idea.  Levi obviously has wanted to share with her. She’s wanted to know. They’ve just been missing each other.

 

“I do,” Pearl admits.  “I just...can’t?”

 

“I don’t understand,” Levi objects, hurt.  “You ask all kinds of questions all the time.”

 

“Yes, but for this?  I feel a little like Francesca.  Stuff around Dad is really loaded.  He literally just disappeared from my life one day.  My only safe parent. I expected to see him when I woke up in the morning, and he was just gone.  When I tried to ask about it, she snapped at me. He wasn’t around to be a buffer for me anymore, so I just learned to keep quiet, out of self-preservation.”

 

“Oh.  I wouldn’t snap at you for asking about Dad,” Levi allows.

 

“So, what day was it?” Pearl asks, timid.

 

“November 28th,” Levi shares.

 

“Thank you for telling me,” Pearl breathes, plugging the date into the calendar on her phone.

 

“Thanks for wanting to know…” Levi replies.

 

“I’m just…  I don’t know, I guess I’m thinking more about it now…” Pearl ventures.

 

“What?” Dominique asks.

 

“How he just...left…  It must’ve been the fall, because the first letter I got from him is postmarked late October, 1987.  That must’ve been right after he left. I know he was still around when I started school, because I have that picture.”

 

“Are you comfortable just...not knowing?” Mariana asks.  “Like why?”

 

“No, I’m not comfortable with it,” Pearl admits.  “But there’s not a lot I can do about it. I guess I’m just used to not knowing.”

 

“I’d never get used to that,” Jesus says.  “Mari and me. We always had to know. Fran, too, I guess.”

 

“Well, you were raised differently,” Pearl points out.  “There was a time in your family life when it was okay and encouraged for you to seek out information about your biological parents.  It was never okay for me to ask about mine. From day one, I was shut down and lied to about it.”

 

“True,” Jesus says.  “I’m sorry you were never told the truth.  That you missed out on really getting to know him.  That sucks.”

 

“It does,” Pearl nods.  “I feel cheated. Especially knowing how much he apparently wanted a relationship with me.  There were all those letters. So clear that he was waiting until I turned eighteen so I could find him on my own, but I didn’t even know that was an option.”

 

“With her calling the shots and convincing him that you didn’t want to see him and you that he wasn’t even around at all...like….what chance did you really have?” Levi asks softly.

 

“That’s so super manipulative,” Mariana offers.

 

“And creepy,” Dominique adds.

 

“You deserved to get to know your dad.  To have a relationship with him. Or keep the one you had,” Jesus points out.

 

“The sad part is...I adjusted so quickly to his absence.  It just...became reality that he wasn’t there anymore and it was just me and Mom.  I had to help out because it was just the two of us. And I did that. It makes me wonder...did I even miss him?” Pearl questions.

 

“Were you allowed to?” Jesus asks.  “Because all signs point to no. And if you weren’t allowed to grieve him, then you probably just coped the best you could by doing your best to adapt to the situation.”

 

“That’s a good point,” Pearl breathes.  “I am sorry that I never asked more questions about him, Levi.”

 

“I understand better now why you didn’t,” he says.

 

“It’s just...even though we shared Dad...you and I grew up in very different homes...with very different lives,” Pearl comments.

 

“Trust me, I know,” Levi nods.

 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you guys came.  I would have loved to be,” Pearl says, because she feels like she can’t apologize enough for the lost time.  For the pain inflicted on Levi.

 

“You didn’t know to be,” Levi answers.  “You’ve said...you were already moved out on your own by then.  But she acted like you still lived there and just ducked us when she told you we were coming.  Because you were mad at Dad.”

 

Pearl shakes her head.  “How could I be mad at someone I was sure had been dead for twenty-five years at that point?  It doesn’t make sense.”

 

“She wanted to control you.  All of you,” Jesus points out.  “That makes perfect sense. She wanted to block your access to him and his to you.  And part of that meant convincing you he was gone. She probably knew the two of you were close and that was the most convenient excuse she had to stop you from asking about him.  By stringing your dad along, she had continued power over him, too, long-conning him into making the trip to see you, only to tell him at the last minute you weren’t there after all.”

 

“It’s so messed up,” Dominique breathes.

 

“It is,” Pearl nods.  “And I’ve thought it through.  I do get it. If anybody knows her thought process, I do.  It’s just...not logical. I’m just missing him, I guess. Which is strange, because I really didn’t have him for long.  Compared to you, Levi, I almost feel like I don’t have the right to grieve him.”

 

“You do, though,” he reassures.  

 

“I loved riding in the car with him,” Pearl confesses.

 

“Me, too,” Levi nods.

 

“It was so different than being in the car with her,” Pearl keeps going.  “It was...I don’t know...relaxing?”

 

“Yes,” Levi nods.  

 

“He’d just drive around for the longest time.  No destination. No rush. Point out all the animals or birds or buildings we saw out the window,” Pearl admitted.  “And he’d answer all my questions. None of them were silly.”

 

“Wow, so that’s a huge difference then,” Dominique notes.  “Going from your dad who answered every question to your mom who didn’t allow you to ask any.”

 

“I guess you’re right,” Pearl shakes her head.  “I hadn’t thought about that.”

 

“He used to drive me around in the car so I’d sleep.  So he said, anyway,” Levi volunteers. “Apparently, I wouldn’t settle at home so he’d put me in the car and we’d just drive, so I’d nod off.  When we’d get back inside, he’d leave me in the car seat, just in the middle of everything so I’d keep sleeping.”

 

“Aw,” Pearl says.  “It’s so awesome that you have all these stories.”

 

“They used to annoy me.  Because he told them all the time.  But now, it’s like...I’d give anything…” he clears his throat.

 

“I’d give anything for any of them…” Pearl nods.  “I have the letters. And he did make sure to share with me any and all of his memories of me over the years.  But four years, it isn’t long,” she clears her throat, too.

 

“Neither is sixteen, though,” Levi wipes his eyes.  “I wasn’t ready. Even when I knew it was coming. I’d leave the room every time I felt he might bring it up.  I just...didn’t wanna face it. I should have.”

 

“You were a kid,” Mariana points out.  “No kid wants to face their parent’s mortality.  Especially if their parent’s good.”

 

“I just...should’ve listened.  Now...that’s all I want. To just hear him talk.  Like, spontaneously. And that’s never gonna happen again.  And I miss it.”

 

“His voice was the best,” Pearl nods.  “I think I have an audio tape somewhere of the two of us talking.  But I don’t have a tape player. I don’t even know if those are available anywhere.  Plus, I’m terrified to try and play it. What if it unspools, you know?”

 

They all look at her, confused.

 

“Oh, God, am I the only one who knows about audio tapes unraveling?” she asks.

 

“What’s on the tape?” Dominique asks.

 

“I don’t know…  It came with one of the letters, and it’s dated September, 1987.  So, maybe he knew he was going to leave? Maybe not? Maybe he was just sentimental.”

 

“Sentimental,” Levi agrees.  “I mean, he might’ve known he was going to go.  I hope he didn’t. But I know for a fact he was deeply sentimental.  I’d like to hear that tape. I mean, if you ever find a tape player…”

 

“We might have one at the cabin…” Pearl ventures.

 

“Is it just him and you talking?” Jesus asks.

 

“I don’t know.  It just says  _ P & P - September, 1987 _ ,” Pearl recalls.

 

“Oh, my God.  So cute,” Mariana gushes.

 

“Yeah, it is pretty cute, I guess.  I just miss him. And I like the idea of there being this piece of him that I can hear when I’m ready to.  And maybe it’ll help your need to hear him speak spontaneously,” Pearl suggests to Levi, “What with it being something you haven’t heard before either.”

 

“Yeah...maybe…” Levi considers, going quiet again.


	148. If That's What It Takes

It takes Levi a while to open up. Even to The Avoiders.

 

They may not think so, given just how quickly they wound up finding out about his deepest stuff, but if Levi had his way, no one would have ever known about what Carla did to him.  He always promised himself he’d tell Dad first.

 

And...that just never worked out.

 

It’s been good being here and all, and Levi would much rather hang out right where he is than go back to Minnesota and risk seeing Carla everydamnwhere.  But it’s also been a lot. Coming here because Fran and Mari’s moms have been absolutely awful to them. Feeling roped into going to dinner with Dominique’s parents and then putting in the railing for Mari and Fran.

 

That makes it sound like Levi’s totally selfish.  And he’d like to think that isn’t true. He’d like to think that he loves the people he’s chosen as family and would do anything to protect them.  He’d just...like to have a choice in it, is all.

 

“What are you thinking about over there?” Pearl asks Levi easily.

 

“You don’t wanna know that…” Levi comments quietly.

 

“What do you mean?  Of course we do,” Jesus insists.

 

“Just...I love it here.  And I love being with y’all, but it’s like...I wish we had more time…” Levi tries.

 

“There’ll be more time.  When we move out here there’ll be endless time,” Pearl assures him.

 

“No, you’re not hearing me,” Levi snaps.  “I wish...there had been more time… Like...Jesus, you said that you had like six months to plan coming to see us.  And we had...what...minutes?”

 

“Do you regret it?” Mariana wonders.

 

“No, I’m not saying that,” Levi objects.  “I just...wish there’d been a choice. When someone’s being hurt, you show up.  That’s what you _ do _ .  And I don’t regret that.  I just….wish…” he shrugs.

 

“I get that,” Dominique says.  

 

“I know you’re not saying that our life is a giant ball of suck...but it kinda feels like that…” Mariana admits.

 

“I know…” Levi sighs, regretful.  “It’s why I didn’t wanna say anything in the first place, okay?  But this is the one place in my life where I can be honest about everything.  I don’t wanna hurt you. I don’t think your life is a giant ball of suck. I just wish I’d had a little more time.  And I wish I’d gotten to come because I wanted to, not because your moms were being terrible to you.”

 

“I mean, it makes sense…” Mariana ventures.  “I wish you’d gotten a relaxing vacation, too.  But we don’t always get to plan how these things turn out.”

 

“But you did, though,” Levi persists.  “That’s all I’m trying to say. You got that time.  All of you got it. Even you, Pearl.”

 

“I know,” Pearl nods.  “I’m sorry if all my Dad references are making you feel really raw right now…”

 

He nods.  “How’d you guess?”

 

“I mean, we’ve lived together for over a year now.  I would hope I’d know your...I don’t wanna say moods, but…”

 

“Triggers,” Mariana offers.

 

“Right,” Pearl nods.

 

“I get that what you’re saying is not a comment on us, but it...kinda feels like it is…” Mariana admits.

 

“Probably because you’re used to everything actually being a comment on you,” Jesus offers.  “With Moms, it is, isn’t it?”

 

Mariana nods.

 

“But it’s not with this,” Levi tries again.  “I’m sorry I’m grouchy. I have had a lot of feelings about Dad.  Even this...at its core...it’s about Dad.”

 

“Because when someone needs you, you show up,” Mariana recalls.  “And for whatever reason, he didn’t or couldn’t.”

 

“Exactly,” Levi nods.  He wipes his eyes. “And I hate that I’m mad at him?  But I’m mad at him…”

 

“You have a right to be mad.  You deserved to be protected,” Pearl insists.  “Dad of all people had to know what she was like.”

 

“Right, and I get that he wanted me to just wait for him outside...so I technically wouldn’t have been around her?  But then it was taking longer and longer and I got bored…”

 

“You were a kid,” Jesus reminds Levi.  “Kids get bored. It’s okay.”

 

“Except when it isn’t,” Levi mumbles.  “And I don’t know what I expected him to do about it.  But I was like...so positive he’d figure it out! Driving back afterwards.  Something. But he never did.”

 

“I think, as kids, we’re used to adults noticing when something’s up,” Dominique offers.  “It’s what safe parents do.”

 

“Mom never told me what went on then.  I just know...like really soon after that?  My grandma died. Her mom. And like...I had just told her I was sad.  Texted her? That day. From school. And then I heard she died. So, it was like...I didn’t wanna kill anybody else by telling them.  So I got quiet.”

 

“Makes sense,” Jesus nods.

 

“You were just trying to cope,” Pearl adds.

 

“But you were hoping he’d put the pieces together,” Mariana says, knowing.  

 

“I mean, yeah.  Of course I was.  He was my dad. He knew everything.  He knew when I was about to sneak a snack before dinner.  He knew when I hadn’t done my homework…”

 

“When did you ever not do your homework?” Dominique asks, shocked.  “Didn’t you graduate at, like, sixteen?”

 

“Yeah, but that was before.  Before this happened, I let homework slide once in a while.  But like I said, Dad always knew about that. Homework was small.  I figured...with something this big...he’ll be sure to know.”

 

“That’s devastating,” Dominique nods.  “I’m so sorry.”

 

“I know I’ve talked about it a bunch before...I mean...maybe not to all of you.  But I hope you don’t mind…” Levi hesitates.

 

“So you wanted a choice because of times when you had no choice,” Mariana deduces.

 

“I guess, yeah,” Levi nods.

 

“I wish you’d been protected,” Pearl says.  “I wish I’d known. She and I didn’t live super far away at that point…  I wish I could’ve come and gotten you. Like in my dream.”

 

“I wish, too,” Levi nods.  “I wish it wasn’t all so screwed up.  That parents didn’t feel like it was okay to just hurt their kids whenever they felt like it.  Or just...I don’t know...drop the ball in such a major way…and don’t say we’re all human and we all make mistakes.  Please. I can’t hear that right now.”

 

“So...what can we do to help?” Jesus asks.  “What do you need?”

 

“Just hear me,” Levi tells them.  “Because what I’m talking about? This isn’t some minor mistake.  This is big. And it’s all blurry. I have no idea of the actual day, I just know there was one thing that happened to me and one other thing that happened to my mom on the same day, and...he chose her.”

 

“That’s the worst feeling,” Jesus nods.  “I’m sorry, bro.”

 

“Don’t start with the Brovoiders, please…” Levi smiles, in spite of himself.

 

“What’s a Brovoider?” Pearl asks.  “I need to get hip to all the lingo, you guys.  Fran keeps calling me old.”

 

“Don’t encourage him,” Levi shakes his head.

 

“But I can explain!  See, bro plus Avoider equals Brovoider,” Jesus grins.

 

“So, it’s sexist,” Mariana raises her eyebrows.

 

“Oh, it is not!  Nobody’s saying you can’t be the Sisvoiders if you wanna be!” Jesus insists.

 

“But do we need to specify us by gender?” Mariana asks.

 

“Do you need to take everything on as a personal cause?” Jesus asks back.

 

“Uh, yeah,” Mariana nods.  “Have you met me?”

 

“Fine, I won’t talk about Brovoiders anymore, jeez…” Jesus sulks.  “I just thought it was a cool nickname for us.”

 

“Hey, it was.  I was just being irritable.  I’m sorry,” Levi apologizes.

 

“You don’t have to go back on your word to get back into my good graces or whatever.  You can keep your opinion that the name’s embarrassing.”

 

“Sorry, I just feel like my mood is ruining everything right now,” Levi sighs.

 

“You’re not in a mood, though.  You’re triggered, right? Like Mariana said?” Pearl asks.

 

“I mean, I guess, but that’s not really an excuse for being a jerk to my friends.” Levi points out.

 

“And you’re not,” Dominique interjects.  “If you were, we would tell you. So what else do you need to say about this?”

 

Levi shrugs.  “I don’t know.  I just… I hate speaking ill of my--our--dad,” he amends with a quick apologetic look at Pearl, “when he’s not even here to have a say about it.”

 

“But just because people are dead doesn’t mean they’re suddenly perfect,” Mariana points out.  “Trust me. Our grandpa died and he screwed up  _ a lot _ .”

 

“Mari!” Jesus exclaims, laughing.

 

“What?  He did!” Mariana retorts.

 

“I am staying well out of this conversation,” Pearl decides.  “Frank was a neighbor, not a grandparent. He wasn’t the warmest individual…”

 

“This is you staying out of it?” Dominique chides.

 

“Yes, this is me exercising restraint,” Pearl nods.

 

“This should be interesting…” Levi muses.

 

“Hey!” Pearl laughs, “Are you saying I don’t know how to leave well enough alone?”

 

“Well...I mean...do the thing Dom always says and strengthen that muscle,” Levi points out.  “You could get really good at it, I bet. Not commenting on people.”

 

“Wait.  Do I?” Pearl asks, worried.  “Is that a thing? Do I comment on people when I should just stay out of it?  Apparently, I do. I did it right now…”

 

Cleo puts her front paws on Pearl’s chest to get enough height so she can reach, and licks Pearl on the nose.

 

“I think Cleo’s telling you it’s okay,” Jesus points out.  “To take a breath.”

 

“I’m sorry if I just keep antagonizing you guys,” Levi says, regretful.  “I shouldn’t have said what I said, Pearl. I’m sorry.”

 

“Thanks,” Pearl nods, appearing to calm some.

 

“I just...don’t know what to do with all these damn feelings.  So they just pop out. As meanness and pettiness and all kinds of things I just do not wanna be,” Levi laments.  “I wanna be a better person than that, y’all. I don’t want my trauma to be an excuse for treating people awful.”

 

“Who does that?” Mariana asks.

 

“I’d rather not say...because her daughter’s here,” Levi manages, with a quick glimpse at Pearl.

 

“Why do you assume my mother’s been traumatized?” Pearl wonders.

 

“I don’t know.  Aren’t you always saying how Grandma Not-West says all the time how you should make up with your mom, because she’s had a hard life?” Levi wonders.

 

“Oh yeah.  I suppose you’re right then.  And I do not want that either.  Is there a way we can ensure we don’t turn out terribly like her?” Pearl asks, looking to Jesus, Mariana and Dominique.

 

“Don’t look at us…” Jesus shrugs.  “We got Ana first. And then we got Stef and Lena.  And in between all that, I got Him. So...I mean, I’m just as hopeful as you that it won’t rub off.  I think counseling probably helped.”

 

“I miss Dr. H,” Mariana says.

 

“She was awesome,” Jesus nods, a fond smile lighting up his face.  “She was a big help with the photo thing back last Spring. But I still miss talking to her every day.  And...her just...helping me work through things and talk about them. It’s a bummer she could only work with kids until they’re eighteen.  God knows I could still stand to have her on my side.”

 

“I mean, you have Val, right?” Dominique asks.

 

“I do.  And she’s awesome.  But people aren’t interchangeable.  As awesome as Val is? There’s never gonna be another Dr. H…”

 

“She was very good at her job.  From what little I observed,” Pearl nods.

 

“Wait.  You met his counselor?” Levi wonders.

 

“I did.  When I was very thoroughly anti-counselor, myself,” Pearl continues.

 

“I hear that,” Dominique nods.  “And to get us back to the point, I think the best thing we can do is just keep each other accountable.  Don’t let something slide that we wouldn’t let slide otherwise, you know? Boundaries are in place for a reason.  And our friendship all works because we respect each other.”

 

“Hear, hear,” Levi says.  “Thanks for that.”


	149. Get Back Up Again

Francesca feels ten thousand percent better than last Monday.  Mama hasn’t bothered her one little bit today. And so the minute Fran sees Jesus’s car, she smiles and rushes to get in.

 

“You got it?” Kimani asks.

 

“Yeah, I got it!  Thanks!” Fran tells her.

 

“See you tomorrow!” Shane calls.

 

“Same time, same place,” Isabella adds.

 

“Okay,” Fran waves.

 

“Sounds like school was solid,” Jesus says offering his fist over the seat for her to bump.

 

“It was,” Fran grins.

 

“Seatbelt?” he checks.

 

“Oops,” Fran reaches for it.  Clicks it into place. “Seatbelt.”

 

They don’t really talk on the short drive home.  That’s fine with Fran. She would rather talk to all The Avoiders together anyway.  

 

They get back to Jesus’s and everyone is still there.  Fran goes around giving hugs to Mari and Dominique and Pearl and Levi.  “I missed all you guys,” she says. Jesus gets her settled at the table with a snack - apples and peanut butter.  (The only way Fran will even eat apples.)

 

“We missed you,” Pearl says.  “How was school?”

 

Fran crunches on an apple.  “It was good. Mama bothered me exactly zero times.  And my friends walked with me everywhere all day long.  Kimani or Bella even went with me when I went to the bathroom, just in case.  So I felt really safe.”

 

“Good!” Pearl says.

 

“That’s awesome, buddy.  I’m glad,” Jesus says.

 

“I am, too,” Fran says.  “No offense to you guys...because I really did need you there…  But it’s just that my friends are all basically my age. So I blended in better with them.”

 

“It’s always good to blend,” Mariana comments.

 

“So...what was your favorite part of school?” Levi asks, sitting down across from Fran.

 

“Lunch,” Fran says, not even needing to think about it.  “Or Language. We don’t really do weekly spelling tests in it anymore, but it’s still fun.”

 

“What was for lunch?” Levi wonders.

 

“Cheeseburger on a bun,” Fran enthuses.  “It was the best.”

 

“Sounds like it,” Jesus approves.  He always has good reactions to food.  Except if it’s pizza, of course. Or Ramen noodles from a package.

 

“So, what are we doing tonight?” Fran asks.

 

“I was actually wondering…” Mariana starts off.  “If you...one of you...or however many...would mind coming with me to therapy?  It’s getting harder and harder to keep going. I think I need more backup.”

 

“I’ll go with you,” Fran volunteers.

 

“What about homework?” Mari asks.

 

“So?  I mean...sorry.  Not ‘so…’” Fran apologizes.  “I mean, I can do it there, can’t I?”

 

“We can find you somewhere quiet, and one of us can chill with you and help you with your homework.  Is that cool?” Jesus asks, looking from Dominique to Levi to Pearl. That’s because they’re all the best at homework help.

 

“Yeah, that works,” Pearl answers.  Levi and Dominique are nodding, too.

 

“But you can work on some here.  We have a while before I have to go,” Mariana says, trying to be helpful, but it’s really the most unhelpful ever because Fran hates homework.

 

Levi suggests doing her math here because it’s probably best to have the most quiet for it.  Jesus goes out with Dudley. Mariana lays on the couch, and Pearl and Dominique are on their phones.  Eventually, Dom goes to her apartment to check on Roberta. Pearl goes, too.

 

Math is still boring and awful.  But Levi at least explains it so Fran can understand it.  He helps her with Science, too. Social Studies she does on her own, but her eyes keep jumping when she has to read.  Down extra lines and stuff. Mrs. Lawrence taught her to use a bookmark to keep her place, but that’s just one extra thing to hold onto and try to move a certain way.

 

“Can you read this out loud to me?” Fran asks, pointing to a story.

 

“Sure.  You have to answer questions about it, right.  So make sure you’re listening for details and stuff,” Levi advises.

 

“Okay,” Fran nods.

 

It’s super easy to answer the questions. Levi checks them after and says she gets them all right.

 

She shrugs, brushing off her shoulder.  “Thanks, it’s my awesome auditory learning.”

 

A giant laugh explodes out of Levi.  It reminds Fran a lot of Pearl’s laugh.  It’s the first time she’s noticed.

 

“You laugh the same,” Fran observes, writing in her Language journal.

 

“I’m sorry?” Levi asks.

 

“You and Pearl?  You have the same laugh.  It, like, bursts out of you,” Fran explains.

 

“It’s our dad’s.  He used to laugh like that,” Levi says, a little sad.

 

“Oh.  Do you wanna watch your dad tell that joke about the milk to the store person to feel better?” Fran asks.

 

“Finish your thing, and then we can.  Absolutely,” Levi nods.

 

Fran writes:

 

_ 10-18-21 _

 

_ Today, I found something out.  I found out that a week makes a big difference in life.  A week with love all around does not take away scary times but it does help.  Kimani, Isabella and Shane were great. They made sure I was okay and that nobody was mean to me.  It worked and I had a great day. Now I get to go with my friends to support my sister tonight. _

 

_ Fran _

 

“You know?  It’s way easier to just write  _ Fran _ than it is to worry about which last name I should use and all that erasing and stuff,” she tells Levi, closing her notebook and shoving it in her bag.  

 

“Still thinking about that, huh?” Levi asks.

 

Fran sighs.  “Yup. In our journals, it’s okay to sign them using first names, because our full names are on the cover, but in all the other school work, we need our first and last names on our papers.”

 

“Sounds about right,” Levi agrees.  He leans in closer and plays the video he took of his dad saying he didn’t want his milk in a bag, he wanted it left in the carton.

 

“Your dad’s so corny,” Fran giggles.  “Like Michael, Dominique’s dad.”

 

“Well, then maybe corny is the hallmark of a good dad,” Levi shrugs.  “Thanks for watching with me. That video always does make me feel better.”

 

“No problem,” Fran says.  She reaches out for him, and then pulls back.  

 

“What’s up?  You okay?” Levi wonders.

 

“No.  I mean, yes, but I almost accidentally hugged you without asking,” Fran admits.  “Do you...I don’t know...like… Do you  _ want _ a hug?” she mumbles, feeling embarrassed.

 

“Yeah,” Levi nods.  “Yeah, I could take a hug.”

 

Fran wraps her arm around him from the side.  She whispers, “I wish my dad was corny…”

 

“How do you know Timothy’s not corny?” Levi asks, when they’re done hugging.

 

“I mean, just a guess.  He seems pretty serious about life,” Fran explains.  “Hey, I got all my homework done!”

 

“What about Harry Potter?” Levi asks.

 

“Ugh!  Seriously?” Fran whines.  “I just did all of that homework, and you remember the half an hour I have to read every day?”

 

“Hey...can I help it if I love Harry Potter?” Levi asks.  “I would say we could read on the way, but I get a headache if I read in cars.”

 

“Wait.  You’re gonna read aloud to me again?” Fran asks.

 

“Well, I thought your awesome auditory learning would appreciate it,” Levi smiles.

 

\--

 

Pearl takes charge of dinner.  

 

Mariana makes it easy, showing Pearl a recipe on her phone for a ground turkey skillet with green beans that looks suspiciously like a hotdish.  She remembers what Fran has said about textures and spices and decides to puree the bigger ingredients and the sauce before adding them to the ground turkey.  She also adds bowtie pasta because who doesn’t like noodles?

 

The whole meal is done in less than half an hour, and they all sit down to eat.  

 

Fran picks, at first, suspicious of it, too, but eventually, she’s eating it, and exclaiming about it in the process:

 

“Pearl, you know exactly what this tastes like?  Spaghetti but with green beans in it.”

 

“Wow.  I gather that’s a good thing?” Pearl asks.

 

“Mmm-hmm.  I mean, I’d rather not have beans ever, but Mama says we have to have different colored things in our meals in order for us to get nutrition, so I guess it’s good.”

 

“She still says that, huh?” Jesus asks, sounding a little faraway.

 

“Yep,” Fran stabs another bite.

 

“So, we’re all going tonight,” Levi tells Mariana.  “That still cool?’

 

She nods.  “I mean… It’d be cool if I didn’t have to go at all...but once we go to the thing and talk to Moms maybe I won’t have to.”

 

“You shouldn’t have to,” Fran objects.  “You’re already an adult. That means Moms can’t have a say over you.”

 

“A lot of times...that works different if you’re like us.  Parents can...kinda think...we never grow up. So they kinda keep trying to control us or whatever.”

 

Fran wrinkles her nose.  “I’m moving in with you guys the exact second I turn eighteen.  So just get ready.”

 

“Who are you moving in with?” Dominique asks, amused.

 

“Whoever has an extra room,” Fran insists.  

 

“You know, I talked to Mrs. Smith the other night on the phone,” Jesus says.

 

“You did?” Fran asks.  (She’s still wildly impressed at any mention of Jesus’s fifth grade teacher.)

 

“I did.  And she mentioned one of her daughters has a disability, too,” Jesus confides.

 

“How old is she?” Fran asks.

 

“I think she’s a little younger than you.  Maybe nine?” Jesus squints, trying to remember.

 

“I wish she went to my school.  Wait.  _ Does _ she go to Anchor Beach?  You said they live here now.”

 

“I asked,” Jesus says, regretful.  “She doesn’t. She goes to public school because she needs to be able to get in.”

 

“Oh, like accessible,” Fran nods.  “She probably couldn’t get around outside very good like in gym class sometimes we play volleyball in the sand?  I hate that, by the way. The sand is not my friend.”

 

“Mine either,” Mariana agrees. “We should go soon, though.” 

 

“Do we have time to clean up?” Jesus wonders.

 

Mariana shakes her head.  “It’s at 6:00 tonight. We have to leave, like, now.”

 

“Here,” Pearl says, getting up and finding some plastic wrap to secure over the serving dish.  “We can make sure this keeps, at least, and then clean up the rest after. You okay with that, Jesus?  Or would you rather clean and follow us in a bit?”

 

“Would you mind?” he asks Mariana.  “If I just took care of this quick?”

 

“Somebody should stay behind with you,” Mariana decides.

 

“I can, buddy.  I like to clean,” Fran volunteers.

 

“I’ll stay, too,” Pearl offers.  

 

“Alright, then Mari, Levi and I are gonna head out.  We’ll see you there,” Dominique says, and hurries out the door.

 

\--

 

They only just make it there in the nick of time.  No way Tomas would be understanding if they were more than a half hour late waiting for Jesus.  Mari’s glad they figured that out fast.

 

Levi makes sure to tell Tomas that they now have a railing on their front steps, so Mariana should not have to practice without one.

 

Tomas looks pissed at being told how to do his job.  He’s used to running the show.  

 

Tonight, he’s got other ideas though.  He pulls out a chair on wheels. It’s in front of a desktop computer.  Old. Boxy.

 

“Hold on,” Dominique says, and in seconds, Levi is gone and back with a chair that doesn’t have wheels.  He puts that down instead, for Mariana to sit on.

 

“Mariana, your friends cannot keep interfering or I’m going to have to ask them to leave.  That chair was part of what she’s working on,” he mutters at Levi, resentful.

 

“If she’s thinking about keeping her balance, she’s not gonna have energy left to do whatever it is you have for her to do on the computer,” Dominique points out.

 

Mariana could kiss her.

 

“She needs to learn to multitask,” Tomas pushes back.

 

“She knows how to multitask,” Dominique explains, sounding like Tomas is on her last nerve.  “It overtaxes her. If you want her at her best? Take one thing at a time.”

 

Only Mariana can hear Tomas mutter under his breath, asking how much school Dom and Levi completed to make them such experts.

 

“None.  They talk to me,” Mariana tells him.

 

“Just focus on the screen here.  This is a game. There’s pictures of things.  Like this right here. See?” he points with the mouse to the picture of a chair.  “You need to type in what the word is. Got it?”

 

She nods, feeling her face flush.

 

When Fran, Jesus and Pearl get there, Mariana can hear them.  Or, more accurately, she can hear Fran and her distinct gait as she comes closer and closer to them.

 

Now, the “game” has gotten harder.  A small column of words on the right.  Pictures on the left, just out of her natural line of sight.

 

A message blinks up on the screen.  Some kind of error. The screen goes blue.

 

“It’s okay.  I have a backup,” Tomas says.

 

“Not okay,” Fran whispers from beside her and Mariana cracks a smile.

 

Tomas hands over a tablet with the same screen open.  Levi’s brought Fran a chair, too, so they’re sitting together.

 

“You’re not allowed to help her,” Tomas says to Fran, and Fran gulps.

 

“Leave her alone,” Mariana insists.

 

Before she knows it, Pearl, Jesus, Levi and Dominique have all joined her and Fran.  Surrounding them. Buffering them from Tomas.

 

They’re side by side when Fran motions for the tablet.  “My teacher taught me to cover the part of the page I wasn’t supposed to look at,” she explains.  “So...can you find the name for this thing?”

 

Fran has ungracefully covered the right half of the screen and everything on the left except the top picture.  She moves it over so that Mariana can see it. A damn ironing board. Who even uses those?

 

“The thing...for the clothes…” Mariana whispers, so Tomas won’t hear.

 

“Getting warmer…  Hey that’s funny. It’s kind of a joke.  Get it? Because part of this gets warmer?”

 

“Curling iron…” Mariana tries and knows it’s wrong the second it’s out of her mouth.

 

Fran covers even more than she did to begin with, even part of the picture.  “This part. Not curling but…”

 

“Iron,” Mariana fills in.  “Oh, my God, yes.”

 

“Yes!” Fran cheers.  “Now, we’ll cover up the iron.  What’s this other part?”

 

“Clothesline,” Mariana tries, but she is so damn tired.

 

“Kind of?  You’re kind of really close,” Fran says, squinting the way she does when she’s really on your side.

 

“Stop,” Mariana says.  She’s done forty minutes of word-finding.  And she’s done.  _  Iron _ ’s as far as she’s getting.

 

“Okay.  Here,” Fran says, handing the tablet off to Jesus, who hands it to Tomas.

 

“You need to do all of these, Mariana,” Tomas says.

 

“No, she doesn’t,” Fran says.

 

“She said stop.  You stop,” Jesus says, locking eyes with Tomas and handing the tablet back.

 

“Can you last twenty more minutes?” Pearl asks.

 

Mariana shakes her head.

 

“Nope.  She’s done totally.  Let’s blow this pop stand,” Fran says, extending a hand to Mariana.

 

They walk outside together.

 

“Where’d you hear that?” Jesus asks Fran.

 

“On this really old movie.  Like from the ‘90s,” Fran informs him.

 

“Okay, ouch.  I was a teenager in the 90’s, I’ll have you know..” Pearl jokes.

 

“I’m gonna go pull up the car,” Dom says.

 

“I’ll go with you,” Fran says.

 

“Hold hands, please,” Jesus calls after Fran and he breathes a sigh of relief as Fran falls into step with Dominique sliding a hand in hers.

 

Levi comes up to fill the space Fran left.  He squeezes Mari’s hand. She kind of can’t believe she had all this support.

 

Mariana blinks back tears.

 

And she smiles.


	150. Finally Free

Mariana doesn’t even get up to see Fran off to school.  She’s so exhausted by Tomas and his terrible computer things.  Dominique and Pearl go back to sleep, too, after dropping Fran off.

 

They all sleep until past 11 AM.

 

“Ugh,” Dominique groans.  “I  _ want _ breakfast.  But I don’t want to  _ make _ breakfast.”

 

“Pie,” Mariana decides, sleepily.

 

“Oh my God, yes!  Gimme Pies! Pearl, you haven’t been!  This is gonna be fun. Are you a pie fan?” Dominique asks.

 

“I mean, I don’t hate it.  It’s not my go-to dessert or anything, though,” Pearl admits.

 

“I took Levi,” Mariana informs them.  “He likes it there.”

 

“So, Levi likes a good pie shop?” Pearl asks, interested.

 

“Mm-hmm.  Wait, we should see if they wanna go, too,” Mariana insists and calls Jesus right then.

 

He answers right away.  (They’ve probably been up.)  “Hello?”

 

“Hey, do you want pie?” she asks.

 

“When don’t I want pie?” he retorts lightly.

 

“Good point.  Ask Levi if he wants to go,” Mariana says.

 

“Hey, Levi.  Mariana’s asking if we want pie,” Jesus passes along.

 

Mariana can hear Levi in the background.  “Oh, are we going to Sandy’s?” he asks, excited.

 

“It’s not her house, dude,” Jesus teases.

 

“I know, but it might as well be,” Levi says.

 

“Hello?  Still here,” Mariana interrupts.

 

“Sorry.  It’s a yes.  We’ll go in a bit?  Try to beat the lunch rush?” Jesus asks.

 

“It’s literally just pie.  Dessert rush,” she clarifies.  “I don’t think that’s a thing.”

 

“It should be,” Jesus says.

 

By the time they all get ready and out the door it’s past noon anyway, and Mariana’s really hoping Gimme Pies isn’t super busy.  Knows that Jesus being out anywhere with Dudley might attract attention - and that the two of them together tend to draw people’s gaze.

 

Pearl, Levi and Dominique seem to feel this instinctively - maybe it’s leftover from the grilled cheese place or hearing how awful people are to her and Fran - but the other Avoiders surround them.  Pearl and Dom in front, and Levi behind, so they’re safely tucked inside and protected from the stares.

 

Thank God it’s not actually busy.

 

“Hey, Cold Brew Coffee pie gal and Custard pie gentleman.  You brought your friends! What’ll everyone have? You two want your usual?” Sandy asks Mariana and Levi.

 

“I think I might have...is your Mint Chocolate pie still available?” Levi asks.

 

As he does, Mariana’s typing.  She’s been mulling over an idea for a while.  Ever since Levi’s birthday. She’s wanted a way to give him at least part of what he missed out on with his dad not being here.  And since he already mentioned he feels close to his dad here, it got Mariana thinking.

 

She knows that being surrounded by Avoiders - and Levi besides - isn’t ideal for trying to do something nice for a friend.  Plus pressure. Everybody’s looking at the menu. Dominique knows she wants Lemon pie. Jesus wants the Orange Creamsicle. Pearl wants to try the Chocolate Peanut Butter Cup.

 

Luckily, Mariana thought ahead and typed out a message on her phone.  With a finger to her lips, she shows Sandy the screen:

 

**_Do you have some kind of chocolate sauce that you can drizzle into hot coffee to sweeten it?_ **

 

“I can get that for you right now, if you like,” Sandy offers, her eyes sparkling at the idea of surprising someone.  

 

Mariana nods.  She’s not sure if Levi will be up for it, but if he is, Mariana wants the drink to be ready for him.

 

“Do you want your Cold Brew Coffee pie and a cup of coffee besides?” Sandy asks.

 

“Black,” Mariana clarifies, and then whispers.  “We’ll come back for the other. Don’t call it out or bring it by?”

 

“Sure thing, love,” Sandy agrees.

 

Mariana lingers as Jesus, Dominique and Pearl all settle at a table with six chairs.  Levi’s sitting, too, but Mariana motions him over to a small table by away from the rest.

 

“So, I asked Sandy this...and she said yes…” Mariana explains, handing Levi her phone with the note on it.  “I was wondering if it was something you wanted?”

 

Levi’s mouth falls open as he reads her phone screen.  He blinks a few times.

 

“Um.  Yeah… Yes.  This would be amazing.  Thank you,” Levi sputters.

 

“Okay.  I asked her to keep it at the counter...just in case it was a terrible idea and you said no…” Mariana confesses.

 

Sandy’s dropping off Lemon, Orange Creamsicle and Chocolate Peanut Butter slices at the other table.  She surprises Mariana by dropping off their Cold Brew Coffee and Mint Chocolate pie.

 

“I’ll be back with your coffee,” she tells Mariana.

 

“Uh...can you make that two, ma’am?” Levi asks.  “I’d really love that chocolate one.”

 

“Ah,” Sandy beams.  “I’ll bring it right over.  Good to see you again.”

 

“Good to see you,” Levi tells her.

 

They wait silently until Sandy returns with the coffee.  Levi’s effusive with his thanks, and Sandy makes no secret of just how much she enjoys having Levi in the shop.

 

When they’re finally alone, and Levi’s prayed over this slice of pie and the coffee as well, he hesitantly takes a sip.  

 

Mariana bites her lip.

 

Levi blinks back tears.  Clears his throat.

 

“Is it bad?” Mariana asks, alarmed.

 

“No, it’s…  I mean, it’s different.  But it makes me wonder if...you know...if maybe the chocolate coffee...if he might have started making it differently?  You know, as I got older? But it still tastes like something he’d do. Like...I feel like he probably had a hand in this...or was whispering in your ear or something…”

 

“Well, if that’s true, he’s damn persistent,” Mariana smiles gently.  “Because I’ve been trying to figure out a way to get you this since June….so…”

 

“He is persistent,” Levi nods, sipping his coffee.  “God, I never thought I’d have this again. And I know I could make it?  But it’s one of those things where...sometimes what makes something taste so good is the love when someone makes it for you, or is thinking about you.”

 

“Definitely,” Mariana nods.

 

“Thank you.  You know, if I didn’t say it before,” Levi manages.

 

“You did,” Mariana nods.  She reaches across the table, offering her hand.

 

Levi takes it and squeezes.

 

\--

 

“Oh, my God.  They’re so cute, I can’t…” Dominique ventures, stealing glances over her shoulder.

 

“Stop staring,” Pearl reprimands lightly, jabbing Dominique with an elbow.

 

“Oh, please, you were doing it way before I was.  I can’t believe she got him the coffee.  _ Dad _ coffee,” Pearl insists.

 

“Why is that hard to believe?” Jesus asks, mesmerized by his Orange Creamsicle pie.  “She’s thoughtful.”

 

“No, I know.  I just mean… Shouldn’t  _ I _ have thought of that?  As his sister?” Pearl asks.

 

“Does it matter?” Jesus asks.  “I’m not trying to be harsh here, but just…   _ Someone  _ thought of it. That’s what matters.  Sometimes, it doesn’t matter who does the gesture as long as it’s done.  You’ve done plenty for Levi. And for all of us,” Jesus reassures.

 

“So...do you like the pie here guys?  What’s the verdict? Pearl, you’re not a pie fan, but that piece is disappearing pretty fast…” Dominique observes.

 

“That’s because it’s pie that doesn’t taste like pie,” she explains, licking her fork.  It tastes like candy. Which, we all know, is far superior to warm fruit.”

 

“You sound like Fran,” Jesus observes.

 

“You can eat pie cold, you know?” Dominique passes along.

 

“I know, and I’m enjoying it,” Pearl nods.

 

“Jesus?” Dominique asks.  “Are you a fan of Gimmie Pies?” Dominique asks, forgetting momentarily about the moratorium on speaking his name in public.  At least until he glances around to make sure no one’s looking their way. “Sorry,” Dominique whispers.

 

“Yeah, I mean, I could eat this pie every single day of my life.  Plus...it’s orange.”

 

“What’s that mean?” Dominique wonders.

 

“Makes everything better,” Jesus insists, digging in for his last bite.

 

“Hey, speaking of Fran…” Pearl clears her throat.  “What do you guys think of bringing her some pie? Should we?  To show her we’re thinking of her?”

 

Mariana walks up with Levi just about then.  She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t know,” she says taking her chair back.  “Isn’t that kinda like,  _ ‘We did this fun thing when you weren’t around to whatever?’ _ ”

 

“Yeah, I get what you mean,” Jesus nods.  “She’d probably be bummed we came at all without her.  She hates being left out of stuff. But maybe we could nix the pie talk around her...and I don’t know...get her a Mountain Dew from the vending machine?  Just to let her know we were thinking about her?”

 

“That’s a good idea,” Mariana nods.  “But make sure she has it after school, so that she’s not bouncing off the walls when it’s time for bed.”

 

“You okay over there?” Pearl asks Levi, who’s not-so-subtlely attempting to smell his empty cup.

 

“It just reminds me so much of him…” Levi says, offering Pearl the cup.  

 

She sniffs delicately.  “I guess the smell of coffee does bring him to mind…  Wow. I’d forgotten.” Reluctantly, she hands the cup back to Levi.

 

“I wanna bottle this smell…” Levi insists.

 

“I know…” Pearl echoes.  “That was so thoughtful,” she says, nodding at Mariana.

 

Mariana shrugs.  “Took me long enough.”

 

“No.  It took you the exact perfect amount of time,” Levi tells her.   “Because had you figured out a way to do this on my birthday? I probably wouldn’t have been ready.  It would’ve hurt too much. But this was...the timing was amazing.”

 

“Hey, uh...not to bring the mood down or whatever?” Jesus speaks up.  He looks Mariana’s way. “I know you’ve been saying you’ll keep going to therapy until Moms’ thing?  But...I don’t know… Have you thought more about it?”

 

“I wanna stop.  The stuff he has me doing is pointless.  Or it’s stuff I could do myself. I could do it at my own pace, without the added pressure,” Mariana insists.  “I’m just afraid...of their reaction if they find out I stopped going. I don’t wanna give them one more reason to be pissed.”

 

“But you’re an adult, and they need to accept that.  It might be better to call it now, while you do have some space from them, so that by the time you go home, hopefully whatever their reaction is will have blown over,” Jesus suggests.

 

“That’s a good point,” Mariana nods.

 

“It’s up to you.  I know therapy is hell,” Dominique offers.  “And believe me, I’d’ve stopped going if I could’ve.”

 

“But you weren’t allowed?” Mariana asks.

 

“I mean, I was a kid,” Dominique shrugs.  “Kids don’t have much say in that kind of thing.  And my case…” a shudder passes through Dominique and she trails off.  “Anyway, I’m saying if you have the choice and the say, and you want to stop, you can.  You can stop now, and it can be safe.”

 

“Should we give them a heads up?” Jesus asks.

 

“Or maybe I should talk to Rosa?  See what she thinks? Not about, like, what I should do, but...I don’t know...if she has any ideas about how best to tell them I’m stopping.”

 

“That’s a good idea,” Levi nods.

 

“You know, I can’t stop thinking about the last time we came here,” Mari nods at Levi.  “What we were doing?”

 

“Right, yeah,” Levi nods.  “You okay?”

 

“It’s just...hard to believe that you’ll both be going tomorrow...and we’ll be here...and after the thing?  We’ll have to go back, and just...what?”

 

“Pray it changes,” Levi fills in.  “Hope that whatever they learn is enough to really sink into their hearts.  So they get that what they’ve been doing to you guys is not okay.”

 

“I just wish so much of my life wasn’t dependent on how they felt and what they’re learning…” Mariana mutters darkly.  “What I wouldn’t give for some damn control.”

 

“Well, hopefully, when we go, we can talk to them about that,” Jesus nods.  “And they’ll be in front of people so they’ll have to at least look like they’re giving us the time of day.”

 

“Just every time I think of going back...I feel like I’m fading.  I read...all that...and I know. I know what they think of me. Unvarnished,” Mariana tells them, her voice soft.  Earnest. “I don’t wanna go back to being...despised…”

 

“And I don’t want you to either,” Jesus says.

 

“Take it a day at a time,” Dominique urges.

 

“And don’t forget, you have us,” Pearl adds.

 

“Even when you don’t have us…” Levi insists.  “You’ll have us.”


	151. Willow

This whole entire day, Francesca hasn’t been able to concentrate.  For once, it’s not because of Moms. It’s because she knows that Levi and Pearl are leaving so soon.  

 

Fran hates the idea that they’ll be so far away.  It’s sad to think about not having them around, after getting used to them being here for a whole week.

 

She doesn’t even want her Mountain Dew that The Avoiders so nicely got for her, because they thought of her and everything.

 

Pearl’s already trying to pack stuff at Dominique’s and Levi’s bags are already all the way packed up, waiting by the door of Jesus’s apartment.

 

“Reminds me of when I moved out of Mom and Dad’s…” Dominique comments with a sad smile.

 

“Stop talking about leaving,” Fran objects.  “I’ve been thinking about it all day. I don’t want you guys to go,” she says, hugging Levi hard.

 

“We don’t wanna go.  Trust me. We wish we could just be here with you all the time.  But Panther’s home and she’ll get lonely without us. I told her I was coming back.  And my mom, too. I have to keep my promises.”

 

“Yeah, you are good at that…” Fran admits grudgingly.

 

“Thank you,” Levi nods.  “You know that we’ll always be here if you need us.  And we did get the link to apply to live right here at Gateway.  So, who knows? Maybe in a year? We’ll all be together again and we won’t have to think about leaving.”

 

“That doesn’t help at all,” Fran sighs.  “A year is forever away. I’ll be twelve.”

 

“I know,” Levi reassures her.  “I’m sorry we have to go. I wish we could stay together all the time.”

 

\--

 

“So...I’m thinking I’m going to hang back tomorrow morning.  Be here in case Fran needs anything. It’s a long time for all of us to be away if something were to come up.” Dominique tells Pearl as she’s packing.

 

“Yeah?  That’s a good idea.  We’ll miss you, though.” Pearl tells her.  She pauses in her packing, to really look at Dominique.  “Seriously. These aren’t just empty words I’m saying right now.  I’ve seen how difficult things have been for you. I’ve seen how much we drop the ball with regard to your safety.  And how...even with all of that? You’ve somehow come to trust us even more. Seeing you able to open up? It’s been beautiful.”

 

“Shit,” Dominique remarks, wiping tears from her eyes.  “I don’t even know what to say to that. Wow. Thank you.  Really. That means a lot.”

 

Pearl steps over her bags and in front of Dominique. Her gaze is intense.  “I have your dates now. So does Levi. We won’t forget. And if you need us in the meantime, we are going to be better about checking in.  So it doesn’t all fall on you.”

 

Dominique nods, unsure of what else to do.  She can’t even see. Everything’s so damn blurry.  But she does see Pearl open her arms.

 

Without hesitating, Dominique goes into them.  Holding tight.

 

“I love you,” Pearl says fiercely.  “Okay? I want you to know that. Deep in your gut.  You’re loved. So, so much.”

 

“Mm-hmm,” Dominique manages.  “You, too.” She pulls back. “And thank you...for not doing this in front of everyone.”

 

“No, I know goodbyes are personal.  I’d always rather grab an authentic moment than have some big scene at the end with all of us sobbing,” Pearl laughs, wiping her own eyes.

 

“Listen to you, with your authentic moments,” Dominique chides.  “Seriously, I love it. And I love you. I just...it’s hard for me to say.”

 

“I understand.  I was never told.  So it’s been hard for me to get used to it, too.  But it gets easier with practice and being around people you actually love and want to say it to.”

 

“Is that how it works?” Dominique asks, grinning.  

 

“It is,” Pearl nods.  “From what I can gather.”

 

\--

 

It’s not that Jesus is exactly comfortable out walking Dudley, what with the random people having seen the awful site about Mariana and just knowing details about him.  But he and Dudley have decided to go chill at Avoidance and walk on some of the trails there.  

 

It’s good to have some time to himself.

 

Jesus loves The Avoiders - like whole-heart loves them - but sometimes he needs a break.  From the emotions and the noise. He just needs a minute. Some down time. And even though it’s been years?  He still finds himself beyond grateful for little things: being able to walk outside. Dudley. Sunshine.

 

“I don’t know what we’re gonna do without them, Dudley.  What do you think?” Jesus asks.

 

Dudley keeps walking, sniffing, way ahead of Jesus.

 

“Okay.  Not up for conversation.  I can dig that,” Jesus nods.

 

A full minute of total silence is about all he can tolerate or it starts to sound loud as hell.  Luckily there are birds and other sounds to fill the quiet. That helps. But before he knows it, Jesus is talking again.

 

“Are you gonna be okay for hours in the car tomorrow?” Jesus asks Dudley.  

 

Dudley looks over his shoulder.  Then he spots a bush and lifts his leg.

 

“Nice.  Don’t look at me like that.  Of course I’m gonna be okay in the car for hours.  I’ll have you. I’ll have Mariana. It’s a bummer Dominique’s staying back but she’s right.  Somebody should. Just in case.”

 

Dudley has a good pace going.  Jesus tries to match it.

 

“You wanna jog?  Let’s jog,” Jesus smiles.

 

They take off, side by side, the sun in their faces.

 

\--

 

“Hey, Francesca?” Pearl asks, glancing around Jesus’s.  Levi’s here. He jerks a thumb in the direction of the futon.  A glance under it reveals Fran’s shoes, just barely visible. She’s behind the couch.  But Pearl climbs up and looks over, anyway. “Are you avoiding me?” she asks with a wink.

 

“Hey!  You told!” Fran exclaims at Levi.

 

“Sorry.  I thought the deal was you don’t disappear on us anymore,” Levi says.

 

“Fine,” Fran relents.

 

“I can’t fit back there,” Pearl says.

 

“I know,” Fran says, her tone a little withering.

 

“Ah.  Is that the idea?” Pearl wonders.

 

“Maybe,” Fran admits.  “I don’t want to say goodbye anymore.  It’s too awful.”

 

“I’m with you,” Pearl says.  “Saying goodbye is tough. But you know what’s even tougher?” she asks.

 

“What?” Fran asks, glancing up, finally.  Pearl’s heart breaks a little at the sight of tears on Francesca’s cheeks.

 

“Not getting to say goodbye,” Pearl answers, aware that Levi’s still here.  She can feel him in the living room, just behind her. “Then you just wonder all the time.  Why didn’t this person I love say goodbye? Where did they go? It does hurt to say goodbye, but that just means we love each other.”

 

“So, can’t we just say something else, though?” Fran asks.

 

“Like what?” Pearl asks.

 

Fran shrugs.  As always, Pearl is struck by just how much she’s reminded of Jesus and Mariana with that simple gesture.

 

“I’m gonna go find Dominique,” Levi says.

 

“Okay,” Pearl says.

 

Once Levi’s gone, Fran crawls out from behind the futon.  She sits on the couch beside Pearl. “I really do love you,” she says, staring at her hands in her lap.

 

“I really do love you, too.” Pearl echoes.  “So much.”

 

“You’re like a mom to me.  You know, if I had a mom who was nice?  Because you even said you’re sorry when I gave you a break.”

 

“I am sorry I made you feel like I needed a break from you.  I don’t think you’re too much. Not at all,” Pearl reassures.

 

“Is it like you told the lady in the store?  You think I’m a great kid?” Fran asks.

 

“It’s exactly like that,” Pearl nods.

 

“Okay.  I just...don’t know what to say, and I hate goodbyes,” Fran whispers.

 

“I know,” Pearl pauses, thinking for a moment.  “You know… Our dad used to say this thing to me when I was little?  He said, ‘ _ See you later, alligator _ !’ and then I knew to say back, “ _ After ‘while, crocodile _ !’”

 

“What’s it mean?” Fran asks.  

 

“It’s just something fun and silly that rhymes.  It always made saying goodbye a little easier for me,” Pearl admits.  “Because I never liked to be without my dad.”

 

“Except he didn’t say it that day, right?  When he left? He’s the someone who left without saying goodbye…” Fran deduces.

 

“That’s right,” Pearl says, surprised.  

 

“That’s okay.  I’ll say it. See you later, alligator,” Fran says, leaning into Pearl for a hug.

 

Pearl puts her arms around Francesca, swallowing a lump in her own throat: “After ‘while, crocodile.’”

 

\--

 

_ NoSecretAnymor I think I reached my limit w/ therapy.  Can’t go back. Scared to tell Moms. _

 

_ RosaMartinez What happened?  Are you OK? _

 

_ NoSecretAnymor Yeah.  I mean, I’ve had worse.  All my friends came to support me.  It helped. But it was still too much even with them there. _

 

_ RosaMartinez Makes sense that you reached your limit. _

 

_ NoSecretAnymor So what should I do?  I don’t want to think about what they’ll do if they find out I stopped… _

 

_ Rosa Martinez Here’s a question: Are you safe right now? _

 

_ NoSecretAnymor Yes. _

 

_ RosaMartinez How long will you and sis have a safe place? _

 

_ NoSecretAnymor Until after the thing. _

 

_ RosaMartinez The workshop? _

 

_ NoSecretAnymor Yes. _

 

_ RosaMartinez I know you’re scared.  It makes sense. But I think, from what little I know about the situation that you’re not going to find a better time to stop.  By the time you have to see your moms again, you’ll be in a public place - a safe place - and I’ll talk to them with you. Make sure they understand. _

 

_ NoSecretAnymor What do I say? _

 

_ RosaMartinez I don’t think you have to say anything.  Unless you want to. _

 

_ NoSecretAnymor I don’t.  Thanks for being here. Sorry I keep messaging you. _

 

_ RosaMartinez Hey, don’t apologize.  I’m glad to be here. See you soon. Take care, Mariana. _

 

\--

 

It takes Levi a long time to locate Dominique and even when he does, there’s no time.  They have to eat dinner and then Fran has homework, which she needs both his and Dom’s help for.  

 

They work on it with her until almost 9 PM.  She’s exhausted, and teary by the time she’s ready to go across the hall with Mariana.  Fran keeps asking for one more hug.

 

“Make sure you remember to see me tomorrow before!” Fran warns.

 

“We will,” Pearl promises.

 

“Good night,” Levi calls.  “See you in the morning.”

 

Just like that, Pearl, Mari and Fran are gone.

 

Jesus says he wants to grab a shower tonight so it’s not one more thing to do tomorrow.

 

“Hey…  Can we talk?” Levi asks, once he and Dominique are alone.

 

“If we can go somewhere else,” Dominique nods.

 

“Yeah.  Lead the way,” Levi says and he follows her out to the lobby where the lights are off.  She flips them on and picks a chair.

 

Levi pulls out another on the opposite side of the table.

 

“Not exactly Dock Talks, but…” she ventures, sending him a little smile.

 

“It’ll work,” he nods.  “Listen, please tell your parents it was so nice to meet them and get to spend a little time with them.  I’m sorry again for before. How I acted. For running out on dinner. For pressuring you to sing, even without meaning to.”

 

“Levi...I don’t blame you for that.  Either one of those things. I knew you had issues with moms.  So if anybody should be apologizing for that, it’s me. I’m sorry for pushing you into something you weren’t ready to do.  And you didn’t know about the singing.”

 

“I knew enough,” Levi allowed.  “I knew you were sensitive about it.”

 

“But if there’s one thing I know?  The Avoiders? We aren’t great with subtle cues.  Not even me. When I was ready for you to know about the singing, you did.  Okay?” Dominique asks.

 

“Okay,” Levi nods.  “I just...really wanted us to have the chance to talk more.  I feel like we kinda missed out.”

 

“Do you?” Dominique asks.  “I feel like...you came through for me.  In really important moments. That matters to me.”

 

“Really?” Levi asks.  “You’re not just saying that?”

 

“I don’t just say things,” Dominique insists.

 

“I want you to know that you matter to me, as a friend, so much.  And as much as I hate leaving, I know that you’ll all be in good hands with each other.  But like...don’t hesitate to reach out if you need us. Or me,” Levi says.

 

“I’ll definitely try to be better about it,” Dominique answers.

 

“I’m holding up my end of the friendship, too,” Levi promises.  “I’m gonna be sure to check in with you.”

 

“That’s what Pearl said,” Dominique smiles a little.  “And thank you.”

 

“Listen, I don’t wanna make this awkward.  Or a whole thing. So I’ll just say good night.  Oh, but can you tell Roberta bye for me? That I’ll miss her?” Levi asks.

 

“You can come tell her yourself,” Dominique invites.

 

Surprised at his luck, they ride the elevator silently up to the third floor together.  Dominique goes into her apartment and comes out with her arms full of pissed-off Roberta.

 

They stand in the hall.  The cat looks like she wants to scratch Levi’s face off.

 

“Bye, Roberta.  It was very nice to meet you,” Levi says, attempting to shake her paw.

 

Roberta hisses.

 

“ _ Robbie _ , my God.  Would it kill you to be polite?” Dominique reprimands in a low voice, laughter spilling out of her.

 

Roberta glares at Dominique.

 

“Well, I will let you get your beauty sleep,” Levi tells Roberta.

 

He turns, heading for Jesus’s door, and pauses for a split second, “I really need you to know...how much I platonically care about you, Dominique.”

 

“As much as is humanly possible,” Dominique returns, soft.  “I know.”


	152. Take Me Home

Wednesday morning passes in a blur of activity.  Getting up. Getting ready. Getting Fran off to school and making sure that she gets her “for real goodbyes” in before Levi and Pearl go for good.

 

God.

 

Mariana can’t take this.

 

But Fran is surprisingly calm and together as she tells Pearl and Levi, “See you later, alligators.”

 

“Aw, that’s such a Dad thing.  Did you teach her that?” Levi asks.

 

“Maybe,” Pearl admits and together they tell Fran, “After ‘while, crocodile.”

 

After Fran’s out the door, Mariana wishes there was time for them to just sit and talk, but Jesus is making sure she has coffee for the road.  That they both have food. Mariana’s making sure she looks presentable. Pearl and Levi are giving Dominique hugs and promising to be in touch.

 

“We should be back just in time to get Fran.  But if we get hung up in traffic or something…?”

 

“Then, I got her,” Dominique promises.  “Just let me know. See y’all.”

 

Mariana’s in the front passenger seat and Pearl and Levi have stowed all their bags in the trunk when Jesus comes rushing out, with something in his arms, Dudley by his side.  Cleo, jumps up in the back, stubby little tail wagging.

 

“You don’t wanna forget this!” he says.

 

And it’s only when he stops moving that Mariana registers it:  Jesus is holding the blanket Pearl and Levi brought. The one made out of their dad’s shirts.

 

“Oh, my God.  Thank you,” Levi says, taking the blanket almost reverently.

 

“It was behind my couch.  Futon. Whatever. Must’ve fallen back there,” Jesus says.

 

“You’re the best,” Pearl says.

 

Jesus smiles and ducks his head.  “I just...I know how important those kinds of things are.  Didn’t want you to be without it.”

 

\--

 

The ride to the airport from San Diego zips by in a blink.  It’s three hours, and Mariana is worried about Jesus making this drive.  But he does okay. Maybe he’s finally getting used to it.

 

What Mariana’s not used to use the constant chatter and overlapping voices of three other people in a vehicle all trying to talk at once.  She’d usually fall asleep in the face of overstimulation like this, but she feels an obligation to stay awake for Jesus. To make sure he’s actually as fine as he seems.

 

Of course, that means Maraina just staring out the window and trying to calm the dread in her own gut that a long car ride brings.  

 

At some point, Jesus reaches over and holds her hand.

 

It’s like he’s watching out for her, too.

 

\--

 

It’s a little after noon when they arrive at the airport.  Jesus is pretty positive that they’re not about to make it back.  They’d have to leave right now. No goodbyes to their best buds, and that just can’t happen.

 

So he texts Dominique, and she responds right away with a thumbs up and 3:03 PM.  Since that’s the exact minute Anchor Beach releases for the day and Fran likes having her safe people there exactly on time.

 

Pearl’s wiping her eyes.  She was quiet on the ride here.  Not saying much. Mostly, him and Levi had talked.  About sports. The new job for him. Weather. Basically anything that wasn’t deep.  Because if they got deep in the car, Jesus wouldn’t have been able to see to drive.

 

“I’m with Fran,” Pearl admits.  “I absolutely hate goodbyes,” she says standing in front of Jesus.  “But I’m glad I get the chance to say them.”

 

“Me, too.  Thank you so much for being here for me when I was spinning out that one night.  It meant so much to have you there. And thank you so much for coming,” Jesus says, enfolding her in a giant hug when she opens her arms.

 

“Of course, Jesus.  Anytime. I mean...we’ll probably need some time to build up our emergency fund again, but you know we’d make something work if you guys needed us.” Pearl nods.

 

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you,” Jesus says.  “You did a lot over the last week or so that you’ve never done.”

 

“Right,” Pearl nods.  

 

“So, I’m saying, don’t forget to take care of yourself,” Jesus insists.  “Don’t forget that you matter, too.”

 

“I won’t,” Pearl breathes.  “Thank you for everything. It’s meant the world, having a safe place to stay here.  Getting to see Avoidance in person. Eating all the glorious food,” she laughs. “It’s been great.”

 

“I’ll miss you,” he tells her seriously, looking Pearl in the eye.  “A ton.”

 

“I’ll miss  _ you _ .” Pearl echoes, not even bothering to wipe her tears.  “You’re an amazing, amazing human.”

 

“Well, so are you,” Jesus returns, blinking back tears.

 

He doesn’t know when he’ll ever get used to saying goodbye to Pearl.

 

This is the third time, and it’s never gotten any easier.

 

\--

 

Pearl steps up to Mariana and wraps her arms around her.  Just holds on. There’s nothing she can tell her and Pearl knows that.  An eight-day stay is not going to fix a lifetime of abuse and trauma.

 

That’s not what Pearl wants, anyway, and she has it on good authority that it isn’t what Mariana would want.

 

No one wants to feel like a project.

 

They want to feel like a person.

 

And Pearl has the distinct impression that Mariana has likely spend the better part of the past year and a half feeling more project than person.

 

That just won’t do.

 

“If you need us?  You let me know, any way that you can,” Pearl says.  “I’ll be checking in. Probably via Facebook messenger since that seems to be the ideal form of communication.”

 

Mariana nods.

 

“Okay?” Pearl asks, swallowing a huge lump in her throat.

 

Another nod.  

 

(Mariana’s eyes are dry.  Her face looks blank. Pearl knows Stef and Lena would claim their daughter lost her ability to feel.  To care. But Pearl knows better. From experience, and even more significantly, from listening to Mariana and spending time with her.)

 

“I know what they say about you,” Pearl confesses, her voice soft.  “I know, and I’m sorry. I need you to hear me say that you’re not that.  You’re so much more.”

 

Mariana stares back at Pearl, her expression unreadable.  She swallows.

 

“You’re not what they say,” Pearl reassures.  “I love you, Mariana.”

 

“Love you,” Mariana mouths, sound never escaping her lips.

 

But Pearl gets the meaning, all the same.

 

\--

 

Levi’s started to lose it.

 

The idea of saying goodbye to Mariana is unbearable.  Saying goodbye to Jesus is slightly more tolerable, so Levi will start there.

 

“Thanks for letting me crash at your place,” Levi begins, not able to go past the surface even now.  If he does that, he’ll start bawling.

 

“Anytime.  Thanks for all your help.  For coming. For being here.  It meant a lot to us. All of us.  That you both came,” Jesus insists.  He drops his voice. “And, hey, listen…  I know there were moments when I came on too strong.  When I got pissed, and I shouldn’t have. I want you to know I am sorry about that.  I don’t want you to feel like you’re ever in danger with me.”

 

“Okay.  I don’t,” Levi manages.

 

“Good.  I know you’re a good friend.  And I know you watch out for everybody.  I don’t want you to ever feel unsafe around me.  But I know I have that in me,” Jesus admits.

 

Levi doesn’t know what to say.  Nodding right now would feel rude.  

 

“If you need anything at all, please let us know,” Jesus says, holding onto Levi by the shoulders.  “You’re one of us. You know that, right? That you have us? Forever?”

 

Even though Jesus’s voice is all kinds of intense, Levi holds his gaze and nods.  “Yeah, no, I do. I get that.”

 

“And you get that no matter what, we have your back?” Jesus asks.

 

“Is this a peptalk?  One Brovoider to another?” Levi tries to smile.

 

“Yes,” Jesus says, not even trying to lie about it.  “I want you to know that I get that going back there is gonna be brutal.  And I’m here. For whatever. And Mari’s here. For whatever. Whenever.”

 

“I got it.  And I’m glad we came.  You guys...you’re as much a family as my parents are to me.  No, we don’t share blood, but I think that makes it even stronger.”

 

“And yet we’re always hearing  _ blood is thicker than water _ .  What is that?” Jesus asks, irritated.

 

“A misadapted quote,” Levi tells him.  “I heard it actually goes:  _ The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb _ .”

 

“Wait.  What?” Jesus asks.

 

“I think it means that choosing the people you have around you...choosing to be with them through whatever hard things they’re going through?  That’s what bonds people. And it’s a lot stronger than any guilt or obligation we might feel being born to somebody...or being adopted by somebody.  Guilt isn’t love, right?” Levi asks.

 

“Now, who’s giving the peptalk?” Jesus asks.  “Love you, man.”

 

“Love you, too.”

 

And then Levi has to force himself to walk over to Mariana.  Or he’ll never do it, otherwise.  

 

The only thing worse than saying goodbye to her would be having the chance to say bye and not taking it.  Because they matter to each other. They chose each other. And they went through a whole damn lot together this past week.

 

Levi can’t just go and leave that - leave Mari - unacknowledged.

 

She’s too important to him.

 

\--

 

When it’s time to say goodbye to Levi, no words will come.

 

She remembers the last time.  How he said that they saved him.  How he admitted just how down he’d been.  Funny, how things turn so fast. How now it’s she and Fran needing. 

 

...Maybe it’s all they can do.  Accept the thing that Jesus always says about help moving around.  And just all do their best to help each other move through the dark to wherever the light is.

 

It’s all Mariana can do keep standing here, until Levi leads her over to some chairs.

 

They don’t talk.

 

She looks at him - the longest look - trying to convey everything she wants to say - when words will never do the job.

 

Even when they’re there, words are flimsy.  Weak. There’s no way they can ever actually say everything needed, when what’s needed is just unadulterated connection.  Respect. Understanding. Love.

 

It means the world to not have to speak.  To not be forced. To just be.

 

Levi has tears shining in his eyes as he asks softly, “May I?” with his hands hovering around her face.

 

Mariana nods, wondering mutely if he’s about to kiss her.  Is she ready for that? Shouldn’t he be clearer about that?  Wouldn’t he?

 

But Levi’s hands just cup the sides of her face so gently.  He puts his forehead to hers and whispers, “I’ll vanquish hellsites with you any day…”  Tears run down his cheeks. His breath is mint and sadness and warmth.

 

Mariana cautiously mirrors him, holding his face between her own hands after the briefest of pauses waiting for his nod.  His face is warm and smooth. His tears run hot.

 

They stay like that, time suspended around them.

 

Levi backs up first.

 

Mariana lets go, feeling like she’s cracking herself in two.

 

Levi walks a few steps away, and then gently, presses his three middle fingers to his lips, and extends them toward her.

 

Mariana feels a flutter inside her.  

 

She recognizes this gesture.  Remembers reading the books as a twelve-year-old and seeing the powerful scene unfold on the big screen, two years later.  (By then, Jesus was home, but not up for seeing a midnight showing of  _ The Hunger Games _ .  So Mari had gone with Callie, Jude and Brandon.)  Really, it should come as no surprise that Levi’s familiar with the franchise.  And probably, had read the books even younger than her.

 

Without hesitation, Mariana raises her own hand. Places her own three fingers to her lips.  

 

And then she gives it back:

 

This love.  This connection.  This goodbye.


	153. Silhouette

Jesus feels totally gutted once they leave Pearl and Levi behind to eventually board their flight and head back to Minnesota.  He’s gotten so used to having them around. They’ve been so needed. So vital. The feeling he has right now reminds him eerily of the feeling he had years ago.

 

Arriving back at LAX from Minnesota with the whole family.  The total losing of his shit that happened in the car. It happened because he’d been away from Pearl and that safety.  And now he’s away from Pearl and Levi and all their safety again.

 

Thank God Mariana’s here.  This would be way too much to deal with alone.

 

They take their time walking out of the airport, even though he knows that Mariana would love nothing more than to get out of here ASAP, she’s also got stamina issues to contend with, which means she can’t move as fast as she might want to.

 

He’s already lent her his headphones.  Lucky they both have sunglasses, and he has a hat.  The last thing he needs is somebody recognizing him.

 

“I can get you a chair,” he offers.  “Like...a wheelchair? We can ditch this place faster.”

 

“I can walk.  I’m not injured,” Mariana objects.

 

“But you shouldn’t have to run yourself into the ground.  It’s already overstimulating as hell in here…” Jesus points out.

 

“Maybe if you stop talking, we’ll be out quicker,” she snaps.

 

Jesus takes the hint.  He forgets sometimes that Fran and Mari can’t necessarily multitask in the way he can.  If he wants to get out of there, he has to stop distracting his sis.

 

They just walk for a bit until Jesus sees it:  This big dude, rushing in the same direction they came from. Dark hair. Brown eyes. Moustache.  Beard. Kinda, what’s it called? Salt-and-peppery. And the shirt….damn.  (He hopes Pearl and Levi won't have to see it.  That he's not heading for the same flight they're on.)  The words on the shirt make his brain hurt with that old as hell Nirvana song:

 

**WHEN I WANT YOUR OPINION, I’LL REMOVE THE DUCT TAPE**

 

_ A Hand yanked his hair when taking off the thing on Jesus’s head.  When he could see, it made it all worse. Jesus knew Him, but didn’t know from where.  He looked familiar. Like a normal person. _

 

_ “What’s your name?” He asked in a creepy way, and took the stuff off Jesus’s mouth and out of it.  Moved toward him. His tongue felt gross. _

 

_ Jesus couldn’t talk.  Kissing on the lips was not allowed for kids.  Jesus knew because he tried it with a girl at school once.  Moms said only the cheek and only if both of him and the girl said yes about it.    Nobody asked him if he said yes about this. Jesus couldn’t say yes or no or any words. _

 

_ Would he be in trouble now? _

 

This guy.

 

Standing just a few feet away, like his damn shirt is a big joke.  

 

Jesus squeezes Mariana’s hand.  “Let’s go. Please.”

 

“What?  You’re all sweaty.  Stop,” Mariana pulls her hand away.

 

“Please, let’s just go,” Jesus insists, quiet, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the damn shirt.

 

Mariana follows his gaze to the belly of the man cracking all the jokes, big personality, life of the party.

 

“I see it,” she confirms.  She slides her hand back into Jesus’s and squeezes.  “We can go.”

 

For a while, they just walk.  Dudley’s alerted at Jesus’s side, whining a little.  He keeps pressing his cold nose into Jesus’s hand.

 

It helps.

 

Because Jesus is a million miles away, remembering... 

 

_ It’s November.  How did two whole months pass?  In a way, it feels like years, and in a way, it doesn’t at all.  As much as He wants him to be Josh and for Josh to be normal, it doesn’t work.  He tries everything He can think of but the rash from the tape sticks around, making Josh look gross and sick.   _

 

_ Dad said Josh would have to go to school with it.  He was gonna tell everyone how Josh got the rash from his old family and his old life and how bad they treated him.  But Dad didn’t bother telling the class. Or his teacher. So, all the kids teased him. So, Josh punched one of them the first day in Mrs. Lutz’s class.  _

 

_ “I’m being lenient with you because I know your background, young man.  If you were any other student, you’d be at the principal’s office. We keep our hands to ourselves in this class.  Understood?” _

 

_ Lenient sounded like lean.  Like she was saying she was going easy on him.  But Josh hated standing in the corner. It made him feel blank like all the time Down There.  There was one part he didn’t mind: facing away from the other kids for a while. Because it meant nobody would ask, “What happened to your face?” _

 

_ Josh punched that kid because Josh wanted him to know how it felt for people to ask embarrassing questions.  He could hide his wrists. His waist. His ankles. He could hide most of himself, actually. But not his face.  _

 

_ No teacher ever asked about it.  They just talked to each other behind Josh’s back about how sad it was. _

 

His memory jumps.

 

_ Isaac is there.  Josh, taping his mouth shut.  Isaac’s eyes in the second before Josh put the hood back over his head. _

 

Jesus shudders.

 

They finally get to the car.  He sits behind the wheel for a while, unable to drive. 

 

The memories are fire.  Burned in his brain. How fair is it that he can’t remember before fourth grade at all, but everything from Then seems stuck there forever.

 

“Maybe you want to be in the back seat with Dudley?” Mariana suggests.

 

_ Jesus woke up and tried to look around.   _

 

_ Where was he? _

 

_ What was happening? _

 

_ There was something over his head.  Over all of him. He was handcuffed behind his back.  His legs tied together and up to his wrists. It hurt, and he moaned from the pain. _

 

_ A hand reached back and crammed something in Jesus’s mouth.  A napkin from a fast food place. Jesus didn’t think, he just bit down as hard as he could. _

 

The last place he wants to be is the back seat of any damn car.  But what choice does he have? He can’t have every damn flashback right here in the middle of the airport.

 

“I’ll move,” Mariana decides.  She gets out of the passenger side and opens the back door.  “Come on, Dud. Switch with me,” she calls. “Go help Jesus.”

 

Jesus is barely keeping it together.  He’s shaking. His breathing is too deep.  His heart is going too fast, but he can’t slow down.  Dudley stands with his front paws on Jesus’s lap. Licks his face and keeps whining.

 

That’s the thing about Dudley.  He’s absolute proof that Jesus is in the future.  Because back Then, he’d dreamed of having his own dog.  But hadn’t let himself really believe it was possible. But here he is, ten years later.  And here’s Dudley, right in his face, smelly breath and all, to remind Jesus of where exactly he is.  That he’s not There. That he grew up. He got away.

 

Away from people like that asshole in the shirt.

 

 “I hate people,” he breathes, wiping his eyes.

 

“I know,” Mariana agrees from the back seat.  “Are you okay?”

 

Jesus can’t speak.  He just shakes his head.  Dudley’s there, panting loudly.  Licking the tears off of Jesus’s face.  

 

“It’s not funny,” he manages finally.  “He wore that like it’s a big fucking joke, but it’s not funny.  He wouldn’t joke about it if he had it done to him.”

 

“I know,” Mariana nods.  

 

It’s quiet for a while.  A long time. Long enough for Jesus’s heartbeat to slow the hell down.  For his breathing to find a rhythm. He checks the rearview mirror, relieved not to see a young, scared version of himself, but Mariana.  Her expression pensive.

 

“You wanna talk?” Jesus asks.  “You look like there’s something on your mind.”

 

“But you…” she ventures, concerned.

 

“I’m okay.  I wanna know.  If you wanna say,” Jesus continues, taking a steadying breath for a good measure.

 

“You know...I’ve been holding this back...but...there’s a thing.  The thing from before. When we were little. At Ana’s. And I brought you a graham cracker?” Mariana starts.

 

“There’s more about that memory?” Jesus wonders.

 

“I haven’t wanted to say because...I know you have all kinds of trauma around whatever…” Mariana admits.

 

“Okay, so you were trying to spare me ‘cause it kinda related to a trauma thing?” Jesus deduces.

 

Mariana nods.  

 

“You don’t have to, you know?  I’d rather you tell me. So you don’t have to just carry it alone.  Sucks to carry it alone…” Jesus sighs.

 

“So, the reason why you couldn’t come and get your own graham cracker...is because we were handcuffed,” Mariana shares.  “And, I don’t know...that shirt...just…”

 

“Wait.  Wait. What do you mean we were handcuffed?  Where were we at?” Jesus asks.

 

“Outside,” Mariana says.  “On a deck, thing. The railing was bars.  Like, not wood. So one end was around the bar and one end was around us.  They put us on...like...far ends from each other.”

 

“That sucks,” Jesus says.  “That seriously sucks.”

 

Mariana nods.

 

“When I first looked at him?  The guy in the shirt? I...thought…  I thought it was Him. I know it wasn’t.  Couldn’t be. But I’d already seen the shirt and so…” Jesus ventures.

 

“Yeah,” Mariana agrees.

 

“So, wait....  You said some rando let you go get a graham cracker?  That’s how you came back and shared it with me? And you also...said he hurt you…” Jesus remembers.

 

She shrugs.  “The only way I could get food.  If I let him feel me up or whatever then…”

 

“I’m not blaming you.  I’m just sorry. Sorry for rushing you,” Jesus says, wanting to apologize for something concrete.

 

“Sorry for snapping at you,” Mariana says, too.

 

“If I could’ve gotten loose, I would’ve protected you.  You know that, right?” Jesus says.

 

“I do.  You tried,” Mariana nods.  “You know if I knew where you were...I would’ve made sure you weren’t taped up.”

 

“I know,” Jesus nods.  “He did that so many times.  So many times that I got this gnarly rash around my mouth by the time I started school again.  So I basically had zero friends. Except the bad kids,” Jesus qualifies.

 

“You weren’t a bad kid,” Mariana reminds.

 

Jesus shrugs.  “I kinda was, though.  At least, grades-wise.”

 

“But you couldn’t help that,” Mariana objects.

 

“Are you going to just keep letting me off the hook?” Jesus asks.

 

“Are you gonna keep blaming yourself for crap He did?” Mariana challenges.  “Because I think you might’ve been able to do better if you weren’t freaked out all the time.”

 

“He worked in the school.  My elementary school?” Jesus shares.

 

“Ew,” Mariana responds.

 

“Yeah, so I had to see him in the halls and whatever.  Lurking by my class. He used to pick me up from Mrs. Smith’s class, like, every day…”

 

“God…” Mariana says, shaking her head.

 

“I used to hope, you know?  That she’d figure something out.  She saw how He was with me. The way He interacted and stuff.  But He was always so careful. So normal. He had me so trained...that she just never…”

 

“It’s not your fault.  Some adult should have known, Jesus.” Mariana insists.

 

“Like who?  Which adult would know?  It’s not like when we were kids and whatever happened to have us get taken into care.”

 

“They found us on the balcony thing with bloody wrists from the handcuffs.  You asked if we were being arrested…”

 

“How do you remember all this?” Jesus asks, shaking his head, amazed.

 

“Maybe I have more room for it?  Less trauma later on?” Mariana points out.  “I just...never wanted to mention it because I know you have plenty of trauma from…” she trails off and rubs her own wrists.  “You wanna go home now?”

 

“More than you’ll ever know.  Yeah. Yeah, let’s go,” Jesus nods and starts the car.

 

\--

 

The flight is long and irritating.  Pearl is stuck next to the world’s most chatty person.  And there’s a man with a highly offensive tee shirt on, who caught the flight at the last possible second. She hopes Jesus didn’t have to see him, but his personality is certainly loud enough that it’s a possibility.

 

Her only respite is the impossibly cute kittens playing on so-called  _ Kitten TV. _   If she occupies herself with that and wears headphones, the woman will hopefully stop asking twenty questions about why she has Cleo and whether she and her  _ little brother _ are dating.  

 

Levi’s got the right idea.  He’s had headphones on from the start, and remembered to offer his hand for squeezing on takeoff.

 

\--

 

“I talked to Rosa again,” Mariana tells Jesus once they’ve been on the road for an hour.

 

“Yeah?” he asks.

 

“She said the same thing as you,” Mariana passes along.

 

“What did I say?” Jesus asks, confused.

 

“That...I should stop now...while they have some time to wrap their minds around it.  And then...when it’s Family Day or whatever...she’ll talk to them with me.”

 

“Good,” Jesus nods.  “Do you feel better about it?”

 

“Do you think I have to call and cancel?” Mariana asks.

 

Jesus wrinkles his nose.  “I wouldn’t. It would just give Tomas an excuse to call up Moms sooner.  Let him figure it out on his own you’re not coming.”

 

“Are you okay?” Mariana presses.  “From earlier, I mean?”

 

“I mean...kinda?” Jesus admits.  “Kinda not at all, though. I hate that they had to go.  I hate that I’m back here. I always...find myself actively like stopping myself from going There.”

 

“Isn’t it gone, anyway?  That House?” she asks.

 

Jesus nods.

 

“Good.  I don’t wanna see it,” Mariana says.

 

“I just wanna get home,” Jesus says, blowing out a breath.

 

“We’ll get there,” Mariana encourages.

 

\--

 

Pearl loses herself in the adorableness of baby kittens for the duration of the flight.  While not exactly enjoyable, it is preferable to invasive questions and stares.  

 

She holds Levi’s hand again as they touch down.  

 

It’s after 6 PM and dark once they’ve collected their bags from the baggage claim and found her car in the parking lot.  Pearl can’t help feeling like they’ve wasted the entirety of the day. (Even though, she knows, it’s never a waste being with the people you love.)

 

She’s glad Levi understands her triggers around being driven in the dark and that he gets in the back seat, unprompted.

 

He sleeps and she drives, and before she knows it, it’s 8:30 PM and Pearl’s pulling up in front of the cabin.  She turns off the car and sets Cleo over the seat so she can lick Levi’s face.

 

That reminds her.  “Hey,” Pearl greets as Levi blinks awake from the back seat.  “Should we pick up Panther now? Or tomorrow?”

 

“Let’s do it tomorrow,” Levi yawns.  “I need to sleep for a thousand years first.”

 

Her heart breaks a little as she catches his last words.  Words, Pearl is pretty sure, she isn’t meant to hear:

 

“I hate that I’m back here…”

 

“We’ll leave soon.  I promise,” Pearl vows to the empty car.  “We’ll leave here and we won’t look back.”


	154. Oh Dreamer

It feels beyond lonely without Levi and Pearl.  

 

Everything is changing.  Jesus brought their shower chair over to his apartment.  Fran’s gone back to sleeping on the air mattress there. Mariana’s back to sharing the futon with Jesus and Dudley.  

 

It’s taken Mariana the whole of yesterday to recover from the trip to the airport.  She’s still not all the way back in terms of stamina. Getting okay with not going to therapy anymore honestly couldn’t have come at a better time.

 

Dominique has to work today, and that means it’s just Mariana and Jesus while Fran’s at school.

 

“Was she okay this morning?” Mariana asks, sipping her coffee.

 

“Crabby as hell, but okay.  Her friends are still looking out for her.  I saw the three of them, all lined up and waiting for her by the parent drop-off.  They’re serious,” he smiles a little.

 

“That’s good.  I mean, they’re kids, but it’s good,” Mariana nods.

 

“Yeah, eleven-year-olds shouldn’t have that job,” Jesus shakes his head.  “But she needs as much support as she can get. Speaking of that…” Jesus says, raising his eyebrows.  “I had a thought I wanted to run by you.”

 

“What?” Mari asks.

 

“Well...I don’t like to talk about it...but there’s only about one more week until the two of you might have to go back…” Jesus starts.

 

“Don’t remind me…” Mariana mutters.

 

“I know.  So, anyway.  I was thinking...we’d probably better have some conditions in place,” Jesus muses.

 

“Conditions…  What do you mean?” Mariana asks.

 

“I mean, there’s not a chance in hell I’m sending either one of you back there if they’re gonna keep doing what they’re doing.  So...I don’t really know what that’d look like...except...I’d like to talk to Francesca about maybe starting to see Dr. H. on a regular basis.  But I wanted to get your take first,” Jesus pauses.

 

“Oh.  Wow. ...I mean, I guess I haven’t thought about that.  But you’re right. She needs all the support. And we all know Dr. H. is great at what she does.  So first...concerns…” Mariana lets out a long breath.

 

“I’m listening,” Jesus nods.

 

“Moms, obviously.  They hate the idea of us going anywhere and talking about anything.  When I went...she sat in the room with me the whole time. So she couldn’t grill me after.” Mariana explains.

 

“Wait, who?” Jesus asks.

 

“Stef,” Mariana fills in.

 

“When was this?” he wonders, perplexed.

 

Mariana shrugs.  “Sometime after my thing, I guess,” Mariana says.  “But she gave me the...I don’t know…”

 

“Stef gave you something?” Jesus asks.

 

“No, she...said something.  Like, warned me. Don’t talk about family stuff and whatever.  So that’s when I decided… Just let her come in, so she knows exactly what I’m…” Mariana blinks back tears.

 

Jesus moves closer, on instinct, ready to comfort her, but Mariana holds him off with a hand.

 

“No.  I’m fine if you just don’t treat me like a human right now…” Mariana manages.

 

“Mariana,” Jesus says simply.  “If I said that to you...would you be concerned?”

 

“Yeah, but that’s you,” Mariana waves him off.

 

“I’m not about to comfort you if you don’t want it...but you are a human.  I can’t deny that and stay in an okay place myself.”

 

“Fine,” Mariana breathes, steadying herself.

 

“So, that was concern number one.  Are there more?” Jesus asks.

 

Mariana nods.  “But what about Moms?” 

 

“Moms are gonna sign off on getting Fran some support.  Or she’s not going back there. Seriously, we know their insurance covers mental health stuff.  So they shouldn’t have any objections to this. Especially after their workshop thing.” Jesus says.  “Second concern?”

 

“Does Dr. H. have room in her schedule for a new person?” Mari asks.  “I know she’s like...the best. I obviously want Fran to have the best.  But...does she have room?”

 

“I’ve been checking into it...and she does, yeah.  She had one client age out or stop for some other reason.  Another stopped going. That opened up a spot for Fran. She can see her this week.  Just to get to know her again. Nothing too intense.”

 

“Right, but what  _ about _ Fran?” Mariana insists.

 

“What do you mean?” Jesus asks.

 

“I mean, she’s been raised around Moms in their anti-therapy phase for the last however long…” Mariana points out.

 

“It’s so weird.  They had me in therapy.  We had it as a family. They had it as a couple.  Seems like the only reason they’re against it now is because they really have something to hide…” Jesus remarks.

 

“Fran,” Mariana repeats, reminding Jesus of the point.  “She’s not gonna want to. And I don’t wanna force her into it.  I know what it’s like.”

 

“Right, I don’t either.  But I do wanna bring it up with her.  Talk to her. Give her some time to get used to the idea.  Maybe we can go to Avoidance this afternoon, and I can walk Dudley and talk to her about it.”

 

“Or sit and talk,” Mariana reminds.

 

“Oh, right.  You guys do better sitting and talking,” Jesus nods.  “Or...I mean do you wanna talk to her together?”

 

Mariana shakes her head.  “You can. I don’t want her to feel like...ganged up on.  But thanks. For talking to me about what you’re thinking.”

 

“I miss them,” Jesus says, glancing around the empty apartment.

 

“I know,” Mariana nods.

 

\--

 

Insomnia is one of Dominique’s most annoying effects of trauma.  It seems to know, too, when it would be optimally inconvenient for it to show up.  Hence, Dom being awake half the night scrolling through old Facebook messages when she should’ve been sleeping on the night before she had to go back to work.

 

(She wonders, though, if it’s not the quiet that kept her awake.  No Cleo whining in her sleep. No Pearl with nightmares. No Fran breathing extra loud.  No Mariana feeling for her hand in the dark.)

 

Dominique makes it through work today.  Of course. It’s what she does. And she’s totally up for Avoidance time with Jesus, Mari and Fran.

 

When Jesus asks Fran if she wants to walk Dudley, and she agrees, Dominique is more than happy to have this chance to talk to Mariana one on one.

 

“So...I was awake until like 2 AM last night…” Dominique shares.

 

Mariana wrinkles her nose.  “How were you up for work today?” 

 

“Don’t ask.  But...I passed the time looking at our Facebook chat.  Do you remember the night last week, when I came in after I pissed off Jesus?  He’d made me that drawing and you talked about how it was him sharing his hope.”

 

“Yeah,” Mariana nods.

 

Dominique finds the screencap of the specific comment Mariana made, to show her.  “You also said this.” She says, showing Mariana the screen, which reads:

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ I don’t wanna speak for Jesus.  But for me? Sharing my hope? Is really fucking hard.  Like you said you took the risk with me? To say I hurt you and whatever?  Sharing my hope feels like the most...whatever...risk ever. _

 

Mariana looks at it, and then raises her eyebrows.

 

“Can I ask…  Seeing this last night...it just caught me a little off guard.  And it kinda got lost in the larger conversation. But what did you mean by it being really fucking hard to share your hope?”

 

“Oh,” Mariana swallows.  Dominique watches as she checks over her shoulder for Jesus and Francesca.  “Well...okay. You know that story Fran loves? The Buddy Story?”

 

“Mm-hmm,” Dominique nods.

 

“What I tell her...that’s only part of it,” Mariana admits.  “The next day, or something… After I told Fran about Jesus...when she was a baby...she was walking around with Jude.  And she was...calling for him.” Mariana shudders.

 

“For Jesus?” Dominique asks.

 

Mariana nods.  “And she was saying buddy.  Buddy. You know? Jude asked who Fran was looking for.  I said Jesus. I don’t remember the specifics.”

 

Dominique listens, her attention fixed on Mariana.  

 

“So...fast-forward to that night...and Mom comes in to say goodnight.  Whatever. I talk to her for a second about school. And then she starts in on me about...how I shouldn’t have told Fran about Jesus.  How she’s just a baby. Mom didn’t want me scaring her and whatever. Which wasn’t what I was trying to do…”

 

“No, I know,” Dominique reassures.

 

“I got mad.  Because...I thought Frankie had a right to know.  And because I still believed… I still believed in my heart that Jesus was out there somewhere.  That he’d be back. I was the only one who did, I think. I was talking about when he comes back and Mom...screamed in my face…  That  _ he is not coming back _ .”

 

“What the hell?  You were thirteen years old, and she’s telling you your twin’s not coming back?!”

 

“I started crying and yelled back.  That she didn’t know that. And then she whipped around again and asked what I thought she did every day at work.  I knew. She walked away then. Callie was there. She tried to comfort me, but I lost it. Because I knew...exactly what Mom did at work…  How many calls she got over the years to go check out bodies of little boys who might be Jesus.”

 

“Oh God…” Dominique breathes.  “Mariana, I’m so sorry.”

 

“I lost every ounce of my hope that night.  She scared it out of me,” Mariana says, looking over Dominique’s shoulder and into the distance.  “Ten days later...Jesus escaped. Eleven days later, I was looking him right in the face. But I was so out of it.  I was fucking numb. I thought...I was sure I must be dreaming. I stayed there holding his hand for the entire day while he slept, and the whole damn time...it wasn’t out of loyalty…  It was to convince myself...you know?”

 

“That it was real,” Dominique fills in, knowing.  “That  _ he  _ was real.  Wow, and then Lena shared that damn picture with the world like it was some heartwarming moment, and you both were so traumatized...”

 

“She basically told me to my face that Jesus wasn’t going to come home.  That he died. It took, like, a month before it started...feeling real. By then, we’d lived with our grandparents for a bit.  The numbness wore off then. So that when we saw him again at Christmas? I could accept that he was really there.”

 

“Damn.” Dominique swears.  “I hate them even more now…”

 

“So, anyway.  That’s what I meant,” Mariana finally meets Dominique’s eyes again.  “Why it’s hard to even have hope now. Why it’s even harder to share it.”

 

Dominique nods.  “That makes so much sense.  And I’m so sorry.”

 

Mariana shrugs.  “What are you gonna do?  It’s life, right?”

 

“It is.  But you deserved a hell of a lot better than that,” Dominique says fiercely.

 

\--

 

Francesca’s glad when Dudley’s done smelling everything and peeing.  Because it means she and Jesus can actually sit down and rest.

 

“Look at this nice picture Pearl took of me and her and Cleo,” Fran says, showing Jesus her phone.  “It’s my lock screen now. I look at it and know…”

 

“What do you know?” Jesus asks, curious.

 

Fran shrugs.  “That it’s okay to talk about Timothy and stuff?” Fran asks.

 

“That’s awesome,” Jesus nods.  “And it is absolutely okay to talk about Timothy if you want to.  And I love that picture. Too bad we didn’t get to take a lot this time.”

 

“We still have the one from the cabin,” Fran points out.  “With all of us. Well, except Roberta.”

 

“Right.  Listen, buddy, I wanted to talk to you about something.  An idea I have.”

 

“Okay.  What is it?” Fran asks, swinging her legs as she sits on the bench by Avoidance.

 

“It’s...well...it’s about making sure that you have more safe people in your life going forward.”

 

“What’s that mean?  I already have all The Avoiders,” Fran points out.

 

“Right, but I mean a real adult.  You know how I had therapy back when I was a teenager?”

 

Fran’s eyes get big.  “No, I hate therapy, Jesus.  Tomas is so mean to Mariana in therapy!  Don’t make me do that, please…”

 

“Hey, buddy.  I’m sorry. I should’ve been more specific.  Another kind of therapy is just...going into a nice room and talking to a safe adult about what’s going on in your life.  They just listen to you. They’re not mean. It doesn’t hurt, I promise.”

 

“Which adult would I talk to?” she asks, suspicious.

 

“Do you remember Dr. H.?” he asks.

 

“Oh!  The one who came to watch me win the arm hang in third grade?!” Fran asks, perking up.  “She’s nice!”

 

“She is.  Her job is helping kids who have trauma.  And she helped me out a whole bunch. Now I’m not a kid anymore, so I’m too old to talk to her, but you’re just the right age, if you wanted.”

 

“But Moms…” Fran worries.  “They’d say our private family stuff is no one’s business.”

 

“Well, let’s say you didn’t have to worry about Moms’ reaction.  Would you wanna come with me… Maybe next week? Just to meet Dr. H. for yourself?  See if you’d feel comfortable talking to her?”

 

“Do I know her?” Fran asks.

 

“We used to all talk to her as a family.  But we stopped when you were around six. That’s because I turned eighteen, and got too old to talk to her.”

 

Fran concentrates.  “Is that the place we threw a ball?”

 

“It is,” Jesus smiles.  “She’d have us throw a ball to each other, to take turns talking.”

 

“I’ll go, I guess.  But I don’t wanna catch a ball.  I’m not so great at catching,” Fran admits.

 

“Sounds good,” Jesus nods.  “I’m proud of you, you know that?”

 

“Of course,” Fran beams.  “You say it all the time.”

 

“That’s because it’s true all the time,” Jesus agrees, hugging her tightly.


	155. Run To You

Pearl and Levi have been home for four days.  It’s taken less time than that for life to snap back to business as usual.  Back to knitting. Back to the honest joy of having a giant dog and a tiny dog together in a small space.  Back to it just being Pearl and Levi.

 

For every pro in the current situation there is a con: It’s lonelier.  It’s also cozier. It’s familiar. That also means their trauma could show up any number of places in town.  Or here.

 

Pearl and Levi haven’t spoken much.  Levi seems down. It doesn’t help matters that Pearl is also feeling tender.  

 

Ever since she’s connected the dots about Dad leaving her in October all those years ago, Pearl’s begun dreading the month.  Today, especially, she can’t think of him without wincing. She can’t stop thinking of him either, which is especially cruel.  

 

“Hey…” Levi says, coming upstairs finally.  It’s after 2 PM. He’s still keeping very late hours.  Pearl has to remind herself it’s likely insomnia and not willful teenage rebellion that has Levi not sleeping well.

 

“Hey,” Pearl says back.

 

Levi hesitantly joins Pearl on the couch.  Bends down and strokes Panther behind her ears.

 

“Can we move?  Were you serious about that?” Levi asks.

 

“Yes, I was.  I am,” Pearl says.  And she is. She’s seriously thinking about it.  Considering it. But she knows the process will take most of a year.  She knows moving will probably mean she’ll need to make contact with Mom at some point.  The cabin is hers. She’s made no secret of that over the years. That she’s only let Pearl borrow it out of the goodness of her heart.

 

What goodness?

 

“So...can we fill out the application?” Levi asks.  “Start the process?”

 

Raising her eyebrows, Pearl asks, “Right now?”

 

“Please, Pearl…” Levi begs, and it occurs to Pearl that her little brother rarely asks her for anything.  The waiting list is long. It’s not like they’ll have to sell the cabin. Just move their stuff out when the time comes.  It’ll be exhausting. But Pearl’s convinced they don’t actually need much.

 

“Alright,” Pearl reaches for her laptop and the Post-It note with the website on it.  Finds it without trouble. Selects application and makes sure to select Gateway Apartments in San Diego, California.

 

They fill out the application together, taking turns filling out the sections with regard to their specific needs.  

 

“A one-bedroom would work, temporarily, right?  I could sleep in the living room? The way Jesus does.  You could have the bedroom. Then, if a two-bedroom ever opened up, we could get that.”

 

“Yeah.  I mean, if it gets us out of here faster, yeah,” Levi nods.

 

“You’re really nervous being back here, aren’t you?” Pearl asks, sympathetic.

 

“Aren’t you?” he asks rhetorically.  “I start at County Market next Monday and I’m still nervous as hell that I’ll run into her.  Or that asshole who hurt you. I so don’t wanna be here. The idea that we’re moving is the only thing that’s getting me through.  Starting the process just brings us that much closer.”

 

They finish the application and Pearl sighs, sitting back on the couch.  Panther tries to jump up on Levi’s lap and he has to insist she stay put.

 

“I missed you so much,” he tells Panther, covering her face in kisses.  “But if you jump up here, you’re gonna break the couch, and then Pearl won’t have anywhere to sleep.”

 

Pearl sighs, in tandem with Panther, who rests her head on her giant front paws dejectedly.

 

Levi turns to Pearl.  

 

“What?  I said she had to stay on the floor…” Levi points out.

 

“It’s not that.  It’s just...I know you’re feeling a lot of feelings.  And the thing is… I am, too. I’m not sure how to manage things when both of us are struggling at the same time.  It’s my instinct to protect you. It always has been.”

 

“But you can be honest,” Levi tells her.  “And I’m legally an adult now. So, you can confide in me and not feel super guilty.”

 

“This is true,” Pearl sighs again.  “I just...I can’t stop thinking about Dad.  And not in a good way. Knowing he left me more than thirty years ago this month?  It’s painful… And I know you love him and you miss him, and you had so much more time with him, and I’m sorry for speaking ill of him.”

 

“No,” Levi stops her.  “I want you to talk about it.  I mean, if you want. For the longest time...I didn’t think anyone could really relate to what happened to me.  And it’s not exactly the same...but in a way...he left both of us with her. She hurt us both.”

 

“She did,” Pearl nods.  “And somehow, I miss him anyway.  It’s like...I ache for him. For the years I could have had, but never did.  It just… I don’t think I’m ever going to get over that, Levi. Knowing that I could have known him.  That we could have had a relationship. That he wanted to know me. But she kept us apart.”

 

“It’s screwed up…” Levi breathes.  “And she should have told you. Or at least, not kept y’all from each other.”

 

“Right, but we know she doesn’t have that in her…” Pearl scoffs.

 

“Hey, do you still have that tape?” Levi asks.  “The audio tape, with the two of you on it?”

 

Pearl roots around briefly until her hand touches the shoebox she’d somehow been given by Grandma Not-West.  (Pearl would have thought it more likely that she’d have thrown all the letters away.) She pulls out the box and finds the tape at the bottom, in a larger envelope, with the oldest of the letters:

 

_ Dear Pearl, _

_ You and me, we talked an awful lot.  Play this when you miss Daddy and know we’ll be together again someday. _

 

Blinking back tears, Pearl shakes out the audio tape.  She studies Dad’s writing, imagining the day he did it.  The day - whenever it was, so many Septembers ago - that he recorded this.  Long before cell phones. When video cameras were large and bulky, but cassette players were less so.  He may have even had a record button built into the cassette deck in his car, but Pearl can’t be sure. Maybe he walked around with a tape recorder for all she knew.

 

Levi comes back upstairs with an old boombox-style, combination CD player and cassette player.  If she reaches way back in her memory, before high school, she remembers it. She’d forgotten she still had it.

 

Pearl holds the cassette tape almost reverently.  It’s spent years sealed up in an envelope. Looks nearly new.  If she had to guess, Pearl would say it’s never once been played.

 

Tentatively, Pearl presses the eject button, cradling the tape in her hands briefly before sliding it into place and closing the little door.

 

“Please, universe, don’t let it do something terrible like unspool itself…” Pearl prays.  “This is really important.”

 

Levi doesn’t comment.  He doesn’t laugh. He understands just how vital this is.  To have a connection, even decades old, with Dad, today of all days.

 

Hesitantly, Pearl presses play and reaches for Levi’s hand.  He takes it, and holds on.

 

_ “Hey, Pearl.” _

 

_ “Hey, Daddy.” _

 

Pearl’s breath catches.  

 

That’s Dad.  He’s so real - so here - so…

 

“That’s you?” Levi asks, incredulous.  “How old are you?” 

 

At the same time, Dad asks little Pearl:

 

_ “How old are you?” _

 

There’s a pause.

 

“ _ I’m gonna tell you something.  This thing right here? It records our voices.  So, it can hear us. But it can’t see us. So that means to know what you’re saying it has to hear you say your answers.  How do you answer your teacher at school?” _

 

_ “Raise your hand.” _

 

_ “That’s right!” Dad laughs.  “And what if your teacher at school asked you how old you were?  What would you say?” _

 

_ “Five, but I’m really four.” _

 

_ “Five, but you’re really four?  What’s that mean? Can you tell Daddy?” _

 

_ “You need to be five to go to Kindergarten.  I can’t say I’m four. Mom said. I have to pretend I’m five.  Or I’ll get kicked out.” _

 

_ “Ah.  Well, you don’t have to pretend here with me.  So, how old are you really?” _

 

_ “Four years old.” _

 

Pearl stops the tape and looks at Levi.  “I’m so sorry. I’ve never heard this. I didn’t know I said those things about her.  Are you okay?”

 

“I can’t believe how little you are.  That voice,” Levi manages, smiling. “And it’s okay.  I figured you’d probably talk about her. Or at least mention her.  Keep going, if you want.”

 

_ “What’s your favorite food?”  _

 

_ “Carrots.” _

 

_ “Carrots, huh?  Like a snowman’s nose?” _

 

_ Pearl giggles.  “No, not those ones!  They’re too icy!” _

 

_ “Ah, I see.  What do you like to read?” _

 

_ “ _ _ The Cat in the Hat _ _.  I can read all of it.  From the front to the back.” _

 

_ “You can.  You’re a very good reader.  You know you’ve been reading since you were two?” _

 

_ “Yes.” _

 

_ “Yes?  How did you know that?” _

 

_ “I thought of it in my mind.  You know my favorite in  _ _ The Cat in the Hat _ _?  It’s the fish!” _

 

_ “You do like that fish, don’t you?  Why is that?” _

 

_ “Because he tells them when it’s dangerous.” _

 

_ “That’s important.  Telling kids when something’s dangerous.” _

 

_ “Yes, it is.  And we learned in school, never run with something sharp.  Like scissors or a knife.” _

 

_ “That’s very good.  And very true. And you don’t need sharp scissors anyway, do you?  Just your school scissors.” _

 

_ “And just butter knifes.” _

 

_ “That’s right.  Just butter knives.  What do you like to do most?” _

 

_ “Play at McDonald’s!”  _

 

_ “I thought you’d say that.” _

 

_ “And what about…  What is your favorite toy?” _

 

_ “Grumpy.” _

 

_ “Who’s Grumpy?” _

 

_ “He’s right here.  See?” _

 

_ “I see.  But the tape recorder can’t see.  Should we describe Grumpy to people who might listen?  Maybe when you’re all grown up, you’ll hear yourself and go, ‘Now, what in the world is a Grumpy?’ _

 

_ “Hahahaha!  No, I won’t!  He’s a blue Care Bear.” _

 

_ “He’s a blue Care Bear.  What’s special about him?” _

 

_ “Cloud.” _

 

_ “Where do you see the cloud?” _

 

_ “On his tummy!” _

 

_ “And what else is special about Grumpy?  Anything?” _

 

_ “He can have all the feelings.” _

 

_ “He can.  And who else can?” _

 

_ “I can?” _

 

_ “That’s my girl.  Love you, Pearl.” _

 

_ “Love you, Daddy.  Can we hear our voices now?” _

 

_ “Just wait ‘til I press this button--” _

 

_ “I wanna press it.  Which one is it?” _

 

_ “It’s this one right--” _

 

The recording is over abruptly.  Pearl wipes her eyes. “God, I was annoying…”

 

“Pearl, I’m pretty sure Dad would’ve said you were the cutest four-year-old ever in life.  I mean, just based on your voice alone...I don’t know how he could’ve left you… So sorry he did…” Levi wipes his own tears.

 

“I’m sorry I turned him off,” Pearl manages, her voice thick.  “God, I haven’t felt like this big a mess since Father’s Day…”

 

“I just block it out completely.  I didn’t even know when it was,” Levi admits.  

 

“It was...I think...ten days after our birthday…” Pearl remembers.  

 

“That’s why I have no idea.  I was probably still hibernating,” Levi realizes.  

 

“Which is completely understandable,” Pearl nods, opening her arms to offer him a hug.

 

Surprised, Levi leans in, accepting.  “You know Mariana got me chocolate coffee in Minnesota?  That day we went to Sandy’s for pie?”

 

“I did,” Pearl nods.

 

Levi pulls away, surprised.  “How?”

 

“We were kind of watching…” Pearl admits.  “I thought I’d dropped the ball by not being the one to make sure you got that.  But Jesus set me on the righteous path.”

 

“Which was…?” Levi asks.

 

“The important thing wasn’t that  _ I _ did it.  But that  _ some _ one did it.  Someone you cared about.”

 

“Yeah, you’re very hard on yourself.  I’ve noticed,” Levi comments.

 

“Have you?” Pearl asks, stroking Cleo behind the ears.

 

“You really don’t have to be,” Levi reassures.  “You’re doing great.”

 

“Thank you,” Pearl manages.  “And thank you for being here while I listened to this.  I don’t think I could have done it alone.”

 

“Good thing you’re stuck with me then,” Levi manages, sending her a small smile.

 

“The best thing,” Pearl echoes, settling back on the couch and rewinding the tape.


	156. Wrecking Ball

With Levi and Pearl leaving on Wednesday, Jesus had expected the days to drag by.  But it’s like he blinks and just like that, it’s Sunday afternoon. Friday night support group didn’t happen (at least with the Adams Foster contingent) because Jesus and Mari were with Fran.  And Saturday night, Fran surprised them again by asking if she could have a sleepover with her three friends from school.

 

He and Mari had needed to talk her down to a more reasonable number:

 

_ “Well, I don’t think all three friends at once would work,” Jesus says. _

 

_ “Yes, it would.  My friends are small.  And I’m the smallest. So, we won’t take up much room.” Fran bargains. _

 

_ “Francesca?  What do you say we compromise?” Jesus had asked. _

 

_ “Like how?” Fran asks, skeptical. _

 

_ “Like...I don’t wanna ruin your social life, okay?  I want you to have friends and sleepovers and all that.  So, choose one friend to invite. And look at it this way, if one can’t, you’ll still have two backups.” _

 

_ “One’s a boy,” Fran calls out, a little confrontational. _

 

_ “We have two air mattresses,” Jesus points out.  “Shane’s welcome to sleep on one in the spare room and you on the other out here.” _

 

_ “What’s the point of even having a sleepover if we can’t sleep in the same room?” Fran balks.  “Fine. I’m gonna call Isabella and see…” _

 

_ “I can see if I can stay with Dom,” Mariana offers. _

 

_ Hours later, Isabella’s there and it’s no wonder she and Fran are friends.  She’s warm, gentle and outspoken in the best possible way, always the first to call out an injustice. _

 

_ “Hey,” Jesus greets.  “I’m Jesus. And this is Dudley.” _

 

_ “She knows that already,” Fran says. _

 

_ But Isabella extends a hand to shake.  “I’m Isabella Gonzalez. It’s nice to meet you, and I know not to pet Dudley,” she reassures.  “I remember when you came to school with Fran last year,” Isabella points out. _

 

_ “Yeah?  You know my bio mom has a little girl named Isabella.  My half-sister, I guess.” Jesus shares. _

 

_ “Does that mean she’s more your sister than I am?” Fran asks, taking him off guard. _

 

_ “No, the half is just to say that we happen to share a bio parent.  You don’t have to worry, Fran.” _

 

_ “Uh-oh.  I just thought of something.  What if Timothy has a kid? And he likes that one more than me?” Fran asks, looking at Isabella. _

 

_ “I won’t like a kid of his more than you,” Isabella reassures.  “Promise.” _

 

_ “Thanks.  And thanks for protecting me at school,” Fran says as they both study their phones at the table. _

 

_ “No problem.” _

 

The sleepover had gone fine, except for the fact that Fran was hella cranky all day today from getting so much less sleep than she’s used to.  Jesus almost did a thing where he insisted she rest, but he knew that that would do nothing but ensure that Fran didn’t unwind at all.

 

She does crash by 8:00 tonight, which is a good thing.

 

Fran needs the sleep, and Jesus needs to catch up with Levi.  His place feels so empty without him. It was nice to have Isabella around.  It felt familiar with more people. A bit safer, even.  

 

\--

 

Levi’s just in the middle of kicking some major butt courtesy of video gaming on his laptop when his cell buzzes on the desk.  He glances down. 10 PM and a call from Jesus.

 

Pausing the game, Levi snatches up the phone and says hello.

 

“Hey.  Just wanted to check in.  Since we missed Avoidance and all.  And Friday. You doing okay up there?” Jesus wonders.

 

“Yeah.  I mean, I guess.  We just applied to Gateway this afternoon.  So the ball is officially rolling.”

 

“Awesome,” Jesus says.  He sounds happy. “Are you excited?”

 

“More like desperate to get the hell out of here.  I got used to it out there with all of you. Got used to not being on edge all the time.  I mean, yeah, there were still things that got to me. But it wasn’t as constant.”

 

“Right, yeah.  Jesus nods.  

 

“Hey, you said something to me the other day?  And I’ve been turning it over and over in my mind.  I still can’t make sense of it,” Levi admits.

 

“Okay,” Jesus answers.  “I’m listening.”

 

“Well...What did you mean when you were saying bye to me?” Levi asks.

 

“Which part?” Jesus wonders, perplexed.

 

“You said you didn’t want me to feel unsafe around you, but you know you have that in you…  What was that about? Like...if you wanna say?” Levi hedges.

 

“Okay...so...you know a little bit more now about my whole situation?  The living in LA with the asshole? For a big chunk of my childhood?” Jesus reviews.

 

“Yeah,” Levi answers.

 

“So...a big thing for me has always been…  I was in super hell, basically. With this total asshole.  Major abuse. Stuff I won’t even talk about. And obviously, I would never replicate that...but I do notice...little things that he did...that kinda rubbed off on me.”

 

“Like what?” Levi asks, bewildered.

 

“Like...when he got mad...or irritated...or just wound up?  He’d pace. And I do that now. Makes me feel gross as hell, but it, like, seeped in.  I don’t even realize I do it.”

 

“I get why you feel gross about pacing...but it doesn’t make me feel unsafe,” Levi reassures.  

 

“It’s not just that, though.  I used to be...softer, I guess, kind of?  Helped out when I should have just stayed clear of things.  Really bad things happened because of my caring too much. Being there really taught me that I couldn’t be that, if I wanted to stay alive,” Jesus shares.

 

“Sounds like you did what you had to,” Levi comments gently.

 

“I did...but the thing is…  When I got home? My family had, like...doubled in size.  When he got me, it was just me and Mari and Brandon. And Moms.  That was it. I came back, and it was Frankie. And Callie. But Jude was…  Well, Jude was a walking trigger for me.”

 

“How?” Levi asks.

 

“He reminded me of Isaac.  In a lot of ways. Physically, mostly.  The funny thing is, they don’t actually resemble each other much at all.  I think it was just that I wasn’t prepared. Maybe that the only other people I was around back then in that house were little boys around my age.  White. Brown hair. Jude fit that description, as basic as it was. So, it was like Isaac’s ghost had walked up and sat down to breakfast with us when I got home,” Jesus manages.

 

“Sounds terrifying.” Levi offers.

 

“It was.  Because Isaac was the kid I failed by being too soft.  He died because of me.” Jesus shares softly.

 

Levi gasps.

 

“Pearl would probably tell you different.  But it’s the truth. I got to know him. I connected to him.  Hell, I loved him. Like a brother, you know?” Jesus manages. “And he...that asshole...he used that against me…”

 

“I’m so sorry,” Levi offers, quietly.

 

“So, seeing Jude...it was like seeing Isaac everywhere.  And when Brandon’s dad came to dinner one night...and there were all these triggers all in a row.  Homemade pizza. A man in the house. Jude crying. And then these heavy footsteps on the stairs.”  

 

Levi’s barely breathing right now, so caught up in what Jesus is saying, but manages to ask: “How old was Jude?”

 

“Ten?  Almost eleven?  And Isaac was...well...he just turned twelve before…” Jesus manages, a little hoarse.

 

“Wow, so similar ages, too,” Levi comments.

 

“And Ja--  I mean, Isaac was small when I knew him.  Jude was more regular kid sized. He and I could actually wear the same size when I came back.  But I still felt...when I heard him cry and then heard those boots on the stairs.”

 

“You thought somebody was after him,” Levi deduces.

 

“With Mike around, I’d offered to clean up after dinner and...I’d swiped a knife from the block in the kitchen.  Just in case.”

 

“Just in case, what?” Levi asks.  

 

“You know how every little boy who was white with brown hair reminded me of Isaac?  Well, every grown man with a passing resemblance to  _ him _ triggered me into thinking it  _ was actually him _ .”

 

“So...you thought the bad guy was about to come and hurt your friend?  Your brother? So...what did you do?” Levi asks.

 

“I got there before he did.  Pulled a knife on Jude and told him to get in the closet right fucking now.  To fucking move. To not come out until I fucking said to. Then, I locked the flimsy lock.  Hid the knife and told Lena I had no idea where Jude was when she came looking.” Jesus pauses meaningfully.  “That’s what I meant, Levi. I have  _ that _ in me.”

 

“How long were you home, though?”

 

“A week?  Maybe?” Jesus guesses.

 

“You were traumatized.  And you were a child,” Levi points out.

 

“And every October I lived at home, I ended up getting into it with Jude over something dumb.  He’d go to Moms. Because I’d told him to, if he ever didn’t feel safe, and it would turn into this whole thing.  Moms asking me, ‘ _ Who do you wanna be, Jesus?  What kind of person? _ ’  And I’d just walk away feeling awful about myself.”

 

“Because they blamed you.” Levi nods to himself.  “Of course you’d feel bad. They acted like you being triggered was you making a choice to act like your captor.”

 

“And?” Jesus asks, missing something.

 

“And it  _ wasn’t _ .  You weren’t  _ choosing _ to act like that.  Something triggered you.  Just like the first time. You needed help, not a damn guilt trip.” Levi insists, angry now, on Jesus’s behalf.  “Now? Are you accountable? Hell, yes. Now that you’ve had the help and the therapy and the support groups and you have the tools and whatever.  But...they can’t blame you for acting the way...trauma makes people act...especially if they weren’t going to actually help you through it.”

 

“Thank you, man.  I appreciate that,” Jesus says, sounding totally sincere.  He yawns. “Fran had her first sleepover here last night...and Mariana made the best call in the world sleeping at Dominique’s.”

 

“Uh-oh…” Levi laughs a little.  “Tired?”

 

“Like, beyond tired, yeah.  Fran crashed a half an hour before her usual bedtime tonight.  Which is why I’m calling you. But it might make more sense to get some sleep myself.”

 

“It’s weird without you guys,” Levi admits.

 

“I know.  I got used to having you around.” Jesus yawns again.  “Listen, though. I don’t wanna let myself off the hook entirely here.  My trauma’s not an excuse to act like an ass. Or scare people. Or be violent.  I’ll never do that with you. Pull a weapon. It was from being all unstable when I was a teenager.”

 

“Jesus, I know.  I get it. I don’t think you’re violent.  And one of the main things we live by as Avoiders is no violence.  So, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t break that.”

 

“Yeah.  No. I wouldn’t,” Jesus yawns a third time.

 

“Okay, go to bed,” Levi laughs.  “That’s, like, the third time you’ve yawned in my ear.

 

“Wait.  I didn’t yawn.  Did I?” Jesus asks, confused.

 

“Dude.  Sleep is your friend.  Get some,” Levi advises.

 

“Okay.  Love you, man.  Can’t wait for you guys to come back for good.”

 

“Me, too,” Levi grins.  

 

He hangs up and tries to concentrate but it’s hopeless now as all of Jesus’s words rove around Levi’s mind.  He clicks over to Amazon instead. Levi’s looked up  The Cat in the Hat and gotten distracted by a second title:  Was the Cat in the Hat Black? (which makes him seriously reconsider the idea of buying the former, so Pearl can enjoy her childhood favorite again) when his door swings open.

 

Levi has a hand to his chest before he registers that it’s Panther, lumbering in, having somehow opened Levi’s door of his own accord.

 

“Um...excuse you?” Levi asks.

 

Panther smiles and cocks her head, then makes her way onto Levi’s bed and gets comfortable.  Right smack in the middle of it. 

 

“Oh, you think so, huh?” Levi asks.

 

Panther’s tail slaps Levi’s comforter.  

 

“You’d better not have dirty feet,” Levi warns.

 

Panther rests her head on her huge front paws and blinks at Levi, all innocence.

 

“Fine,” Levi relents.  “But if you can open the door to get in here?  You can open the door to get out in the morning.  No whining at me.”

 

She whines a little, chastised.

 

“That, right there,” Levi warns quietly.  “None of that. Unless it’s an emergency.”

 

In the end, the lure of bed is too tempting and Levi shuts down his laptop and climbs into bed, doing his best to scoot Panther’s massive self over to the far side.

 

“Scoot over.  I’m serious. This is a human bed.  You have one downstairs,” Levi whispers.

 

Panther grumbles and snorts.  When Levi’s all settled and turns out the light - Panther inches closer - close enough to lick Levi’s face in the dark.

 

“I missed you, too,” Levi says, cuddling her.

 

Tonight, he falls asleep in no time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part V


	157. Show 'Em (What You're Made Of)

Lena has barely pulled out of the driveway the last Monday in October when doubt begins to set in hard.  Ever since they first learned about the workshop, the doubt had been almost exclusively Stef’s.

 

Staunchly against sharing their personal business with strangers, Lena had to constantly remind her wife that this was something they’d agreed to do.  Taken time off work for. Paid for. And most of all, it was for their girls.

 

Without Frankie and Mariana, the house has just been too quiet.  In the nearly-twenty years she and Stef have known each other, there had never been an empty house.  Because with Stef, came Brandon, a five-year-old with boundless energy and questions, and a curious mind to boot.

 

Shortly thereafter, they’d started fostering and never looked back.  Even when Jesus went missing, they’d taken in Callie and Jude. Lena gave birth to Frankie.

 

Life didn’t just stop when things got hard.  They got through it. It’s what families did.

 

But what happens when the family won’t stick around?  Lena would expect this kind of thing from Mariana. Given the twins’ past, with so much upheaval and moving, it made sense that she would run away to her brother.  But Lena never dreamed they’d coach Frankie to run, too.

 

Now, it’s been two weeks since Lena’s even seen them for more than a second, here or there.  Her nerves are past frayed, hanging on by the thinnest of threads.

 

She knows they have to do something, but right about now, Lena needs it to be anything but this.

 

“Stef, maybe you were right…” Lena ventures.

 

“Oh, you know I like conversations that start like that…” Stef chuckles.  “What was I right about?”

 

“Maybe we don’t need to do  _ this  _ exactly,” Lena says.

 

“Okay,” Stef says, like she thinks Lena’s joking.  “What would you suggest?”

 

“I don’t know.  We could...take a vacation,” Lena manages, desperate.

 

“We also paid an arm and a leg - money  _ we don’t have _ , mind you - to appease our children,” Stef points out.  

 

“I know,” Lena sighs.  

 

“And they’re planning to show up on Wednesday, as far as we know.  What will it look like if we’re just not there?” Stef asks.

 

“And what will they think?” Lena muses.  “That we don’t care?”

 

“They already think that, Lena.  They’ve made it abundantly clear.  They think we’re doing a crappy job.  But you know what? I’m tired of being beholden to every single one of the twins’ cacamamie ideas.  Maybe this way, things can finally settle down again. Get back to normal,” Stef sighs.

 

“What if we go, and they still won’t bring her back?” Lena worries.

 

“Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it.  Jesus did come over with that other kid and fix the steps.  He wouldn’t have done that if he wasn’t planning to bring them back once this workshop is over.”

 

“True,” Lena breathes.

 

“You okay?” Stef asks, reaching out to hold Lena’s hand.

 

“Nervous,” Lena admits.  “I’m so scared we failed them, Stef.  I’m scared the whole world will find out.”

 

“The whole world isn’t going to find out.  About one moment of weakness? No. And like I said when the twins and Pearl were here before.  Who hasn’t done it? If the public ever did find out, they’d be hypocrites to blame us. Besides, have they ever tried raising half a dozen kids?  With a phone book of issues?”

 

Lena concentrates on the road for a few minutes.  Then: “Let’s just promise each other that we’re going to take this seriously?  And get as much as we can out of it. As much as I’m not thrilled about this, I do want to keep improving myself.”

 

“When don’t I take things seriously?” Stef asks.

 

Lena looks sidelong at her.  “Do you really want me to answer that?”

 

Before she knows it, Lena’s pulling into a very full parking lot.  For the first time, she’s stunned to see a myriad of blue parking spaces for the disabled.  Plenty still free for those with the proper placard. Frankie doesn’t need one, and though there was a time Mariana qualified, they never found the time to send the paperwork in.

 

“Have you ever seen anything like this?  How many special parking spaces do they need?” Stef breathes.  “There’s barely any free for the rest of us.”

 

“I don’t know…” Lena manages.  “Isn’t it usually pretty lopsided in the other direction?  Plenty of spaces for us, and only a few in blue?”

 

Stef grumbles, but gets out of the car.  On their way across the parking lot, Lena wants to hold Stef’s hand but doesn’t dare.  In the current political climate, she can’t risk it.  

 

“So, we’re sticking it out until the end?” Stef says under her breath.

 

“Right.” Lena nods.  “No bailing?”

 

“No bailing,” Stef confirms.  “What’s five days in the grand scheme of things, right?”

 

\--

 

_ RosaMartinez: Your parents are here.  Walking in now. I’m going to go greet them. _

 

_ NoSecretAnymor: Please don’t tell them I sought you out to talk about them. _

 

_ RosaMartinez: I won’t.  Don’t worry. _

 

\--

 

The lobby isn’t too busy or bustling.  The lights are dimmed, and there are signs posted that designate quiet areas.  It helps for workshops like this, when so many of the speakers and attendees have sensory issues to keep the input to a minimum.

 

Rosa braces herself and then walks up to Stef and Lena to introduce herself.  A young, 20-something with CP named Olivia walks behind Rosa. Rosa knows it’s because each nondisabled parent is paired with an adult who shares their child’s (main) diagnosis.  Rosa drops back a little so that she and Olivia are side by side.

 

“Hi.  Stef?” Rosa introduces herself, extending a hand.  “I’m Rosa Martinez. I’ll be your point person for the week.”

 

Rosa watches, expecting it when Stef does a double-take and says, “You don’t look like you have anything wrong.” 

 

“That’s because I don’t,” Rosa answers smoothly.

 

Stef finally notices Rosa’s hand there and shakes it warmly.  “So nice to meet you. I’m so sorry for the assumption. I’m Stef Adams Foster.  I just thought...what with all the people with disabilities walking around...that you might be one.”

 

“I might be,” Rosa nods.  “But that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me.”

 

Stef’s stuttering an apology.

 

Rosa half-listens as Olivia makes introductions to Lena.  Lena’s trying not to stare. She isn’t very successful at pretending.

 

“I’m sorry.  You walk just like my daughter,” Lena finally sputters to Olivia.  

 

Olivia smiles.  Lena’s clearly not expecting it when she says, “Oh, that’s awesome.  I love knowing that. How old is your daughter?”

 

“Eleven,” Lena answers.

 

“Well, Rosa and I will be here to answer any questions you guys have this week.  We’re here to talk. To give insight. Rosa, did you wanna add anything?”

 

“We’re not here to answer invasive personal questions.  We’re not here to be another adult who pats you on the back or pities your child because they’re disabled,” Rosa says, unflinching.

 

“Okay,” Olivia says, smiling hard.  She leads the way into the small space where everyone’s gathering.

 

\--

 

“God, I just made a complete fool of myself in front of that woman.  Wait…” Stef stops whispering abruptly, craning her neck. If yours has CP like Frankie, does that mean mine has a TBI?  She doesn’t seem the least bit disabled,” Stef whispers.  

 

“Stef,” Lena reprimands softly.  

 

“What?  Rude, maybe, but not disabled…” Stef continues, undaunted.

 

She makes her way down to an empty row and sits.  She’s annoyed when the seat beside them is filled by a loud teenage boy with headphones, sunglasses and bright orange shoes.

 

“I thought this was only for parents,” Stef comments loudly to the adult the boy is with.

 

Stef watches, barely concealing her annoyance as the woman offers the boy a laminated board printed with the alphabet.  Her annoyance stays firmly in place as she watches the boy point to letters, not really looking at anything.

 

“This is gonna be a waste of time…” Stef mutters.

 

She’s stunned, when the woman holds out the pad of paper where she has been writing down every single letter the boy has pointed to.  Like that scene in  _ A Christmas Story _ where Ralphie has to break the secret code on the radio show by listening over and over for days.  Stef is positive the message will be even less inspiring than Ralphie’s disappointing:  _ Be sure to drink your Ovaltine. _

 

Still, Stef slides her glasses off her head and onto her face to read:

 

**I AM CORBIN.  I AM 4TH SPEAKER TODAY.  I UNDERSTAND EVERYTHING YOU SAY.**

 

Stef blushes to the roots of her hair.  She wants to vanish off the face of the earth.  She wants to change her mind and take Lena’s hand and get the hell out of here.

 

She can’t even look Corbin in the eye.  Is skeptical that he even spelled what the woman with him claims he spelled.  A kid who needs help with almost everything? Who can’t talk except to make sudden, unexpected noises?  Could he really be doing what the woman claims?

 

\--

 

Corbin can feel the blonde woman’s doubt.  Her skeptic face. Full of doubt that he is smart.  That he can spell. That he can understand.

 

He can’t feel his body.  Is in less control. Acting ragey and bad.

 

He is so nice inside.  But all Blonde Woman can see is his outside.  That pinches. And yells. And needs a break. Now, now, now.

 

\--

 

Lena can feel Stef relax gradually when the boy near them is escorted out.

 

Maybe now they can focus.

 

“Good morning,” Rosa Martinez says from the front of the room. “My name is Rosa Martinez and welcome to the Nothing About Us Without Us parent workshop.  We have four sessions a day. Two in the morning and two in the afternoon. In the evening, you’re encouraged to stay and process.  

 

Lena gets out her phone to take notes.

 

“I see some phones out, and I trust you all have read the guidelines.  Absolutely no photos or videos are to be taken. If you want to get together afterward, on your own time and take photos or videos then, that’s your prerogative, but too many of us, in our community have been exploited in this way.  And we’d appreciate your cooperation in this manner.”

 

(Lena makes sure her camera lens is facing the floor, so she doesn’t risk whatever the consequences are for possibly taking photos of people without consent.)

 

“All this picture and consent talk is making me think of Jesus…” Stef whispers.

 

Lena nods.

 

She watches as Stef stiffens when the boy from earlier comes back.  This time, the woman with him sits closest to Stef. The boy sits on the end, closest to the aisle.

 

“Each of you have been paired with a point person who shares your child’s primary diagnosis.  We are here because we want to help your children. The majority of us know what it’s like to grow up with multiple marginalized identities.  Unlike with race, the majority of disabled children are raised by nondisabled parents. So, there is a disconnect. From your child’s culture.  From that piece of their identity. We want to help you bridge that gap,” Rosa continues.

 

Lena types  **bridge the gap** in the notes section of her phone.

 

“You’ll notice that around you, there are people with disabilities.  That is by design. We want you to get used to us. Nondisabled parents, you being here is a privilege.  The people around you are guests, and they’re here often at great personal cost to themselves. Do not mistreat them,” Rosa warns.  

 

Lena sinks in her seat. 

 

Stef busies herself looking in her bag.

 

“You may be able to get away with that at home with your kids, but no more.  Some of our speakers are nonverbal. Wrap your head around that. Some of our speakers are as young as thirteen years old.  They’ve come because they’re living the same reality as your kids. Listen to them. Show them the respect that they deserve.  Or you will be asked to leave,” Rosa insists.

 

“Hey, we paid to be here,” someone in the audience calls out.  Presumably another parent.

 

“Maybe that’s enough incentive for you to stifle your unnecessary commentary about our guests.  You knew when you signed up, the fee is nonrefundable. So, you either stay and learn, or you don’t.  I’d personally suggest the former.”

 

“Oh, my God,” Stef mouths at Lena.

 

“What did we get ourselves into?” Lena whispers.  

 

But they promised each other.

 

So they’re staying.


	158. Out There

This Rosa is all-business.  Stef is still skeptical about her having any kind of disability - especially a TBI.  She doesn’t act anything like Mariana. She’s together. Knows what she’s talking about.  Stef finds herself thinking Rosa would make a good cop.

 

That doesn’t mean Stef’s on board with this workshop.  She’s bored to tears as they waste time doing team-building exercises.  Icebreaker questions like “What’s your favorite ice cream?”

 

Stef notices a person doing sign language off to the side.  She’s distracted by the movement. And then by the idea that they might have a speaker who can’t even hear.  How would the audience even understand them?

 

In, perhaps the weirdest activity, they’re broken up into smaller groups and challenged to build sculptures...out of their shoes.

 

In every group, there’s ten or so parents and at least three special needs people.  

 

It’s disappointing to hear that the three who need the most help in every single group are named team captains.  But what else can Stef expect at a workshop led by them?

 

She’s glad the loud kid with the laminated board isn’t in their group.  Instead, they have an absolute knockout blonde, some twenty years younger than Stef.  It’s a shame she’s in a wheelchair. Stef stares, unashamed, and surrounded by the other parents, until the woman in the chair catches her eye and waves Stef over.

 

She reaches down and surprises Stef by taking her own heels off and adding them to the pile of shoes on the floor.

 

“Do you have an idea for the sculpture?” she asks.  “Sorry. Sarah,” she introduces, extending a hand.

 

“No...I don’t,” Stef stutters.  She has no idea of protocol here.  She just freezes.

 

“Listen, I won’t bite, I promise,” Sarah encourages, hand still out.

 

Tentatively, Stef takes it and shakes.  “Nice to meet you.” (Stef can’t bring herself to even stutter out her name.  She’s glad for the HELLO, MY NAME IS nametags each of them has affixed to their shirts.)

 

“You, too.  Hey, I’m a singer, and I think....no I  _ know _ ...we could totally make a larynx out of these shoes…” Sarah says, inspired.

 

“What’s that?” a short blonde with Down Syndrome asks.

 

“Your voice box,” Sarah explains.  “It looks like this,” Sarah says pulling up an image on Google and showing it.

 

“It looks like a private part,” she decides, and Stef snickers against her will.

 

“I mean, Robyn’s right…” Sarah points out and shows Stef.

 

Being split up from Lena hadn’t been in Stef’s plan, but they hadn’t had choices about which group they were put in.  She’s out of her element and deeply uncomfortable.  

 

Stef’s distracted again as Sarah waves and begins signing with another woman, who signs so fast it makes Stef dizzy.  (This must be who the person at the front of the room is for.)

 

“Hi, I’m Alexis,” (Stef is not sure where to look as Alexis signs and the other person speaks for her.)  “Nice to meet you.”

 

“Nice to meet you.  I’m Stef,” she finally settles on, looking at the speaking person and extending a hand.

 

There’s a tap on her shoulder.  The signing woman points to herself and signs very slowly.

 

“ _ I’m  _ Alexis.  That’s my interpreter. Sarah, is that a larynx or a vagina?”

 

“That’s what  _ I _ said,” Robyn laughs.

 

Somehow, they do settle on a larynx and Sarah talks everyone through making it.  Robyn does her own Google search and takes her phone around to show everyone what they’re making and what it should look like.  Alexis...well...Stef’s not really sure why she’s there.  

 

Morale, maybe?

 

\--

 

The scavenger hunt has Lena stumped.  All of these questions seem based on personal information.  How is she supposed to figure out who in a room of almost 100 people is bilingual? 

 

Her eyes search the crowd, and she finally finds Stef.  Lena flashes her scavenger hunt clue at her wife, questions in her eyes.  Stef would know how to do this. Right? But no, Stef’s over there shaking her head.

 

“Need help?” Olivia asks, coming up beside Lena.  

 

“Oh.  Yeah, that would be great.  Do you have any idea where we’re supposed to start with this clue?  It’s not very specific. There could be more than 30 people in here that applies to.  But only one has the next clue?”

 

“That’s the idea,” Olivia nods.  “Think about why you’re here. What you’re here to do…”

 

“Bridge the gap,” Lena realizes, thinking of her notes from the introduction.

 

“Right.”

 

“So...do you speak another language by chance?” Lena asks.

 

“No.  But you’re getting warmer,” Olivia encourages.  “Keep trying.”

 

It takes a few more minutes of thinking and watching until the obvious is staring her in the face.  There’s a girl in Stef’s group who must be hard of hearing or something. She’s signing. Lena’s heard about ASL being taught in some public schools as a language.  She approaches and flashes her clue.

 

“I’m Alexis,” Alexis introduces, gesturing to her nametag.

 

“Hi, Alexis, I’m Lena,” Lena manages, offering a hand to shake.  “Are you bilingual?”

 

“I am,” she mouths, also signing.  She hands over the next clue.  

 

_ Find someone who is both a youngest and an only child. _

 

It’s the  _ child _ in this clue that solves the riddle of these questions for Lena.  This has to be a question for one of their speakers. Rosa mentioned some of them were children.  Teenagers. All of these questions are probably from various speakers, to encourage the parents to interact with those like their kids.

 

It’s uncomfortable, but Lena has to admit, it’s brilliant.

 

\--

 

Neither Stef or Lena win the scavenger hunt.  The parent who does is disappointed he doesn’t get anything for a job well done.

 

Rosa has to close her eyes to stop herself from rolling them in exasperation.  Ableds.

 

She needs to shake things up, so she invites them outside, where it’s paved for a good distance.

 

“Now that we’re a bit more comfortable with one another...we’re going to line up...right here...” Rosa invites, indicating an open space.  “And we’re going to play a game called Privilege 101. This activity is meant not to make anyone feel badly for their lack of privilege, but instead, to make clear that everyone possesses some privilege, even as some of us have more than others.  So, I’m going to read a statement: “If you have blue eyes, move forward.”

 

Robyn Evans takes a step forward, demonstrating.  Then, she says, “Well? Move forward.”

 

(Rosa notices Stef, directly in front of her, unmoving because her eyes are green.)

 

“Thanks, Robyn.  That’s exactly right,” Rosa says.  “Your move forward should be an average one.  So no giant pushes or massive steps.”

 

“Regular ones, only,” Robyn adds.

 

“Yes.  So now…” Rosa clears her throat.  “If you do not feel comfortable moving forward or back you may stay where you are.  Also, if this activity is too taxing for any of our speakers, feel free to watch or go to a quiet area if you need to.”

 

Rosa waits a moment, but no one leaves.  Every one of NAU’s workshop staff appreciates Privilege 101 and the parents’ able privilege won’t show up  _ as _ privilege without the staff to compare to.

 

“If English is your first language, move forward,” Rosa says.  She doesn’t move forward, but most do.  

 

“If either of your parents graduated college, move forward,” Rosa says.

 

(She notices Lena Adams Foster stepping forward.  Stef Adams Foster does not. Two questions in, and privilege is already making itself known among them.  Rosa hopes they don’t ignore it.)

 

“If you have been divorced or impacted by divorce, move back,” Rosa continues.

 

(Stef Adams Foster steps back.  Lena Adams Foster stays put. The gap of privilege wider between them.)

 

“If you have visible or invisible disabilities, move back,” Rosa instructs.  All 60 of the nondisabled parents stay put. (All 20 of their staff, including 3 disabled parents, move back.)

 

A parent calls out from the line.  “We’re autism parents. Do we take a step back too?”

 

“You’re human parents to a human autistic child.  And you don’t absorb your child’s disability by proximity or association.  Stay where you are,” Rosa tells him.

 

Here we go, Rosa thinks and prepares to read the next question.  Things are about to get real.

 

“If you have ever been physically abused by a parent or caregiver for something you cannot change about yourself including disability, ethnicity, sexual orientation, age, etc, move back,” Rosa instructs.  Then she steps back, along with at least half of their staff. Nondisabled parents around them stare.

 

“If you have experienced sexual abuse including unwanted touch, groping, tickling, harrassment, assault and/or rape, move back.  The majority of the women in the room step back. All but four of their staff do, too.

 

Rosa repeats a variation of the same question about experiencing verbal or emotional abuse by a parent or a caregiver.  All but one of their staff moves back.

 

“If you have ever waited in the rain or snow for accessible transportation to come, move back,” she says.  (All of the visibly physically disabled staff move back.)

 

“If you’ve ever been denied an education presented to you in an accessible and respectful way, move back,” Rosa instructs.  (Her heart breaks as their youngest speakers all move back. All three are ethnic minorities and autistic. All three are homeschooled.)

 

“If you have ever been followed by, threatened with or encountered police because of something you cannot control like race or disability, move back,” Rosa asks grimly.  (Most of their staff moves back. Lena Adams Foster steps back, too.)

 

“If you don’t fear the police and would call them to help you in an emergency, move forward.”  (Rosa sees the surge. All the mostly white, nondisabled parents - Stef Adams Foster included - stepping forward.)

 

“If you have no difficulty getting your body to obey your mind, move forward,” Rosa instructs.  (Rosa and the autistic kids stay put.)

 

“If you have no difficulty, or minimal difficulty with things like multitasking and concentration, move forward.” (Rosa watches Stef and Lena, along with most of the nondisabled parents, step forward.)

 

“If going out with friends for a few hours requires significant recovery time, step back.”  (Their entire staff steps back.)

 

“If you have not been able to go to places you need to go for social, emotional or medical reasons due to access barriers, move back.” (Again, most of their staff moves back.  The nondisabled parents all stay put.)

 

“Thank you.”  Rosa escorts them back inside and then instructs the nondisabled crowd to come and pick up questions they are to answer in their journals about the activity.  “This won’t be shown to anyone else, and you only share if you feel comfortable. It’s really just for you.”

 

\--

 

Stef glances around, feeling like she’s taking a quiz in school.  She was never one of the smart kids. She’d more likely ask somebody like Lena for all the answers in the five minutes before the homework was due.  

 

But they can’t help each other here.

 

Sighing, Stef takes out her journal and copies the question.  Then contemplates an answer for it:

 

**_In one word, describe how you are feeling right now?_ **

_ Confused.. _

 

**_Would you like to share more about your feelings?_ **

_ Surprised by some of the questions asked, specifically about being threatened with cops.  Made me think of Frankie and wonder if I was in the wrong.   _

 

**_How did it feel to be in the back side of the line?_ **

_ Crappy.  No one likes feeling left out. _

 

**_How did it feel to be at the front of the line?_ **

_ Better.  Like I had some power. _

 

_ \-- _

 

Lena’s surprised to see Stef writing diligently.  They both know that of the two of them, Lena is the one more apt to journal.  It’s even come back to bite her a time or two. Like when she had Mariana help go through stuff from the attic to throw away and she found the journal entry where Lena expressed doubt about adopting her and Jesus.

 

These questions are far easier to consider:

 

**_Do you have more or less privilege than you thought you had?_ **

_ I’ve always been aware of the privilege I lack.  But I wasn’t as aware of my educational privilege. _

 

_ I also found I had more privilege around not having a disability.  I never considered all of the ways Mariana, Frankie and even Jesus are marginalized for that.  Racism is on my radar, but ableism is new. _

 

**_Were you ever alone on one side?  How did it feel?_ **

_ The question about comfort level around police really highlighted the difference between Stef and I.  She moved forward without hesitation, comfortable to call or involve police in a crisis, when my experience has been the complete opposite.  Conflict of interest, being married to a cop, but one can’t help who one loves… _

 

**_Were you ever always on one side of the line?  How did it feel?_ **

_ Any questions about race and sexual orientation I was always moving back.  It felt stifling. Like a physical representation of my lived reality. It really again drove home how different Stef and I actually are. _

 

**_Were there certain sentences that were more impactful than others?_ **

_ Yes, the questions about abuse suffered at the hands of caregivers and the sheer number of the staff who moved back at those questions was eye-opening. I had no idea so many disabled people were being abused.  It’s one of the worst things a person can do - hurting someone who can’t defend themselves. _

 

Lena closes her journal, feeling spent.  

 

She knows the day is only just beginning.


	159. Don't Let Me Get Me

Lena can’t get out the doors fast enough at 10 AM.  They have an hour before their first session: Disabilities and Grief.  Just seeing the title brings her back to Frankie being diagnosed. No one knows that October is still a difficult month for her, remembering that.

 

All of the uncertainty.  The questions. The blaming herself.  The wondering about Frankie’s future. Would she be teased in school?  Would she have friends? What about her quality of life?

 

And Mariana…

 

Her accident and everything around it happened so recently that Lena simply tries not to consider it at all.  But now, moments are creeping in from those dark, early days.

 

Would Mariana survive?

 

Then, would she ever wake up?

 

Then, would she know them?

 

Would she be able to speak?  Think? Take care of herself?

 

By that early estimation, Mariana had surpassed every hope.  But Lena hadn’t known to hope for other things.

 

“Doing okay?” Stef wonders.  “That privilege thing was intense, right?”

 

“You could say that,” Lena sighs.

 

“I felt like shit at the back of that line…” Stef offers.  “When you took a step forward for your parents graduating college?”

 

“I’m sorry, honey,” Lena apologizes.  “But you had some privilege, right?”

 

“Yes, apparently being white, never being tailed by cops and being comfortable around police are privileges…  I can’t help my skin color, Lena. And being a cop is my job. We have to make money.”

 

“No one’s attacking you,” Lena explains, rubbing a thumb over Stef’s hand, since they’re alone.  “That was the whole point. Having privilege doesn’t make you bad. It’s just something to be aware of.  To use for other people, who maybe, don’t have it, too.”

 

“Like you getting Jude into Anchor Beach?” Stef asks, smiling a little.

 

“I wasn’t thinking about that,” Lena admits.  “But...racism was legal. So was rounding up Jewish people.  So is taking children from their parents and keeping them in cages.  Just because it’s legal, doesn’t mean it’s right,” Lena fumes.

 

“Okay.  I see I’ve hit a nerve.  I’m sorry,” Stef nods. “Of course.  None of that is right. We’ve seen what’s happened with Ximena and Poppy’s parents.  Hell, even the Riveras. Remember Ernie and Sonya? None of it’s right.”

 

“Did you think about privilege in the context of not having a disability?” Lena asks.  “Because I have to admit, I never have.”

 

“I never have either,” Stef nods.  “And who knew that not being at risk to horrendous abuse was a privilege?” 

 

“Have we hurt them?” Lena asks.  “The girls?”

 

Stef sighs.  “Pearl did say she hasn’t gotten over Carla hitting her…  But sometimes… Lena, there’s no handbook for this. There’s nothing that says, ‘Here’s how you raise six children from various backgrounds, half of whom have special needs.’”

 

“No, but isn’t that why we’re here?” Lena asks.  “So we can learn how to cope with the kids we have and do better?  So they’re not always running away from us?”

 

“That’s true,” Stef nods.  “I just...wish there were an easier way.  Hasn’t someone invented a file yet where we could download this kind of information directly into our brains for free?”

 

“There is the internet.  You know I scoured that, especially when we were in the early stages with Mariana.  Connecting with other parents saved my sanity.”

 

“I’m glad,” Stef nodded.  “And you saved mine, love.  Many times.”

 

Lena blows out a breath.  “I am so not ready to hear about disabilities and grief from someone who probably doesn’t even have kids,” Lena remarks softly.

 

“I know,” Stef nods.  “To tell you the truth, I’ve never seen so many people with special needs in one place.”

 

“Right?  It’s kind of amazing,” Lena says.  “Do you like any of them? I think Olivia’s sweet,” Lena offers.

 

“Rosa looks like she could kick my ass without even trying.  I’m still not sold that she has anything wrong with her at all,” Stef nods.  “But she’s fine.”

 

“And it might be nice to talk to people who have been where Frankie and Mariana are,” Lena allows.  “If that’s the case.”

 

“Right,” Stef confirms.  “I feel like a terrible person admitting I’m uncomfortable here.  We have three special needs kids at home. I’m totally comfortable around them.”

 

“Are you?” Lena asks.  “Because...I don’t know…”

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing.  Just...there are moments when I feel...out of my depth.  Remember Frankie and her math test a couple years ago. How spectacularly she failed it?  How hard I came down on her? And come to find out from Jesus talking to other people like Frankie...it’s a CP thing.”

 

“Even if it is, it’s not an excuse, Lena.  She still has to pass math,” Stef points out.

 

“I agree.  I’m just saying, I think we should utilize the fact that we have adults here who share our kids’ diagnoses.  Maybe it could help…”

 

“Maybe…”  Stef echoes skeptically.  “Or maybe it’ll just help me feel like a shitty parent…”

 

“I just try to keep in mind that they wanna help our kids.  That’s what we want, too, right?” Lena asks.  

 

“It is,” Stef nods, resigned.  “I guess we should go back in. The delightful disabilities and grief session starts anytime.”

 

\--

 

Koa takes a deep breath and looks down at the joke options his youngest daughter left him with for this occasion.  Though his oldest has humor in her bones, it’s his youngest he goes to for a good (sometimes inappropriate) knock-knock joke.

 

God, he loves his kids.

 

And he knows nondisabled parents are a tough crowd.  He knows because he used to be one.

 

He sits down in the chair provided at the front and says, “How does a squid go into battle?”

 

As expected, all the nondisabled parents in the audience look at each other, not speaking, But Teri, fellow high school English teacher and disabled parent, calls out, “How?” from the front row.

 

“Well-armed,” Koa answers, and snickers can be heard around the room.  A few of the reluctant faces flicker, showing bewildered smiles. “And my daughter - my youngest daughter, Jane (and that’s a pseudonym, don’t try to look her up) wanted me to tell you this joke…”

 

Koa waits until he has everyone’s attention.  “Why couldn’t the toilet paper cross the road?”

 

“Why?” a few in the audience ask together.

 

“Because it got stuck in a crack,” Koa grins, as surprised laughs bubble all around him.  “Listen. The first thing you need to know about me? Is I’m a dad. I’m a parent. I’m also disabled.  I have chronic pain that started just about when my wife gave birth to my oldest, Lucy. She’s 20 now. In college, doing her thing. ...You know what that means, folks?  It means I’m old. My body’s old. It’s starting to protest all the adventures I took it on and all the hell I put it through. I’ve had several surgeries, each with the hope that one will help.

 

“But listen...I’m not the only one in my family who has a disability.  Jane? My knock-knock joke supplier? She’s autistic. Now, she’s not here.  She’s in school today. But she told me I could tell you that. She also wants me to tell you that she’s awesome.

 

“By the way, I’m 100% on board with this being interactive.  If you have a question, or a comment, just put your hand up and I’ll call on you.  Did I mention I’m an English teacher? I am. I get a kick out of calling on people.  Yes?”

 

“You’re supposed to be talking about grief,” a man points out.  “So when was your daughter diagnosed?”

 

“She was young.  And my wife and I...we weren’t well-informed.  The doctor who diagnosed Jane did it very sadly.  He recommended therapies, but said to be prepared for her to never speak.  Never take care of herself. Never make connections or have an interest in other people.”

 

“So, you were crushed, right?” another parent calls out.

 

“In a word, yeah.  To be told about an aspect of your child in a way that makes it sound exclusively negative is crushing.  But that is not a comment on Jane. And it’s not a comment on her being autistic, which she proudly claims as a part of her identity.  That’s a comment on the medical community and its need for a major overhaul in how it presents this type of news to parents.”

 

“So, she’s fine then?  You took her to the therapies and she got better?  I mean, she can obviously talk…” another parent calls out.  

 

“Yes, she can.  She did it on her own timetable.  We did have her in therapies, most of which she hated.  We eventually pulled her out of those and started listening to what she wanted.  Dance classes. Art supplies. Friends at school. Favorite TV shows.”

 

“If your life is so good, then what are you doing up there?” the same dad challenges.

 

“Perhaps you forgot the part where I said that I became a father while recovering from major back surgery.  My chronic pain is no picnic. And it is something I grieve for the way it limits me. I had to adapt. I had to learn other ways of connecting with my kids.”

 

Koa takes a deep breath and continues, “Jane also consented to me sharing that she has a coexisting diagnosis of epilepsy.  And while I do not grieve her being autistic, I do very much grieve her epilepsy because that is a very real threat to her life.  And I love my daughter. And I want her here to enjoy as much of life as possible for as long as she possibly can. Long after me.

 

“What I’ve learned in the fifteen years since Jane was diagnosed is this:  I wasn’t grieving Jane being autistic. What I was grieving was my expectation for her.  Like it or not, as parents, we usually have a certain idea of what our kids will be like in our minds.  And only very rarely, do our imagined children come with disabilities.”

 

“Who would even imagine having kids with disabilities?  Isn’t that cruel?” one mom, who looks vaguely familiar asks.

 

Koa looks out into the audience, toward Teri and the only other disabled parent of disabled kids, Hope.  They raise their hands in tandem. “We did.”

 

“How?” the mom sputters.

 

“Because everybody deserves a safe home,” Hope answers.  “Kids with disabilities included. Kids with terminal illness included. Kids with trauma included.”

 

“And, my son is almost three,” Teri shares.  “He’s not showing any signs of disability, but if he were?  If he happened to have CP like me? That wouldn’t feel like a tragedy.  It would feel really normal. I’m not saying I want Mikey to have a hard life.  I don’t. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t consider the possibility that he could be born disabled.”

 

“Maybe that’s why we usually imagine them healthy,” the woman next to the last mom to speak says.  “Because that’s what’s normal to us.”

 

It’s while she’s speaking that it hits Koa: these are the moms of that boy who went missing and came back.  Jesus. Koa wonders if they’re here for him.

 

“That’s a great thought,” Koa says.  “Now, I’ve got some questions for all of you to think about, or journal about.  You know you can’t get out of the high school English teacher’s session without a little homework, right?”

 

There’s a smattering of groans, but Koa stands up and clicks the PowerPoint to life behind him, showing the questions he has for the parents.

 

“I’d love to come around and chat with you guys.  Process. Hear your stories. Whatever you like. I’m here all week, so even if we don’t catch each other today, I’ll be here.  I’d love to talk to some dads, too, by the way. Okay, I’ll be quiet,” Koa insists. He has to press his lips together to stop himself from finishing the line to the much-loved 90s movie the way Jane would, with:  “ _ I’ll be peace _ ,” after Richard Dreyfuss asks for some peace and quiet.

 

\--

 

**How did you feel when your children were diagnosed?**

_ Lena writes:  With Frankie, I just felt gutted.  I felt to blame. I felt like I had failed her as a mother.   _

 

_ With Jesus, we were just glad he was home.  We were willing to take him any way he came.  ...but I guess that isn’t true, because we did have expectations.  I know that I hoped that with enough time and love the old Jesus would come back to us. _

 

_ With Mariana, we were just hoping she’d survive the day.  I didn’t really have the opportunity to take in her diagnosis until much later.  When I did, I felt...again...like I didn’t do enough to raise her right. To teach her not to make poor choices.  I felt like I failed all over again. _

 

**Do you think or speak about your children’s diagnoses positively, negatively or both?  Why is that?**

_ Stef writes:  We don’t really speak about their diagnoses much.  They are more than what is wrong with them. When we do speak about them, it’s positive.  Encouragement to keep working towards their goals in therapy and bettering themselves. _

 

**Would it have made a difference if you were told, “Hey, your kid has a disability, but they’ll learn to adapt.  They’ll be great.” Or, “Congrats on your new baby / adopted kid / your kid making it through something awful?”**

Lena writes: _   With Frankie, absolutely.  Because I trusted the doctor to know what was best.  This was their field. They know about this kind of thing, far more than I do.  If they had presented it in a more balanced way, I think my reaction would have been less intense, though I do feel like I would still blame myself. _

 

_ With Jesus, I’m not sure.  His situation was so complex, I don’t know if anything anyone said could have prepared us. _

 

_ And with Mariana...if anyone had congratulated me in the face of that...I think I would have had words for them.  At the very least. Early on, words like that would not have been appropriate, but maybe later on? _

 

**What expectations might you have to let go of for your children?**

Stef writes: _ I have already.  I know Frankie is not going to be a math whiz.  I know Mariana was a math whiz, but no mare. And I’ve accepted that Jesus will likely never hold down a job.  I don’t know if any of them will ever marry and that’s hard. I really want to spoil some grandbabies. Thank God for Brandon and Talya. _

 

**How might letting go of these help your relationship with your children?**

Lena writes: _ Letting go of unrealistic expectations for our kids might really help our relationship with them.  I can remember how damaging it was when my mother had unrealistic expectations for me, and Jesus, Mariana and Frankie can’t help their diagnoses. Maybe I do need to evaluate how I see them versus who they are? _


	160. Any Other Way

Stef feels like she can finally take a deep breath.  After hearing that dad share all about his sad life and his kid’s sad life, Stef needs to breathe.  She needs some air.  

 

“God, that was brutal, right?” Stef asks Lena as they spread out their lunch at a table. 

 

“I’m just glad there are breaks built in…” Lena admits.  “Otherwise, this would be way too much to do at once.”

 

“Like, what does he mean - how do we talk about the kids’ disabilities?  Does he think that’s all we do?” Stef scoffs. “Like...just because we have special needs kids doesn’t mean we sit around talking about it all day.  The guy’s a quack. He clearly doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

 

“Excuse me…”

 

Stef hears the hiss of a ventilator and can feel her spine stiffen.  She turns to see a boy - maybe ten years old - in a wheelchair. A tube attached to his neck appears to force breaths into him, so his words break up at odd intervals.

 

“Hey,” she says, pasting on a smile for this kid.  “Did you need help?”

 

“My name is Jonah,” he introduces himself.  

 

“Right.  You had one of the clues from the scavenger hunt,” Lena recalls.  “Both a youngest and an only child.”

 

“Yes,” Jonah nods.  He turns back to Stef.  “I love my mom a lot...but sometimes...she says things that hurt my feelings.”

 

“Well, moms are human.  Just like everyone else,” Stef says.

 

“Right but...one of the things she used to say is one of the things you’re saying now.”

 

Stef blinks.  “Oh?”

 

“A lot of us?  Don’t really like the term special needs…”  Jonah says this almost apologetically. “So maybe you could say something else?  Like maybe kids with disabilities, or disabled kids? That would help,” Jonah says.

 

Stef’s about to give a witty retort when Rosa walks up.  “Hey, Jonah. How’s it going?”

 

“Fine.  These moms offered help, so I asked if they’d mind changing their language to something less...offensive,” Jonah finally settles on a word.

 

“Great,” Rosa says with a smile.  

 

Jonah drives his chair away from their table, and Stef is horrified as Rosa joins her and Lena.  “So...how’s it going you two?”

 

“What’s so wrong with special needs?” Stef asks.  

 

“It’s an educational term,” Lena adds.  “I know. I used to teach.”

 

“It is,” Rosa nods.  “But all you need to know about it is that the majority of disabled people find it awful.  What’s wrong about it is that it makes us feel awful.”

 

“You just said...us…  So you  _ do _ have something?” Stef asks, nervous now about just how to phrase it.

 

“I have a TBI, yes.  For going on twenty years now,” Rosa shares.

 

Stef whistles low.  “Twenty years…”  

 

“That’s the thing about brain injuries...they don’t just vanish,” Rosa adds.

 

“Can I ask what happened?” Lena wonders.

 

“You can ask.  But that would fall under invasive questions and asking for a person’s private medical information.”

 

“Oh,” Lena blinks.  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

 

There’s a pause.  Long and excruciatingly uncomfortable.  Finally, Lena’s brave enough to break it.  “Can I ask...how do we know what to use instead of the widely used and accepted educational term?  Jonah gave us two options, but how are we supposed to know which of  _ those _ to use.  I mean, for all we know, someone could take offense to that, too.”

 

“You ask,” Rosa says.  “Ask your kids what they prefer.  I’d say...when in doubt...use person-first-language.  Like...I said I have a TBI. I didn’t say I am brain damaged.  Some of us do prefer to use disabled, and that is just as valid.  It’s not up to nondisabled people to insist on our language choices.  It’s up to you to respect them.”

 

“Does it really matter that much?” Stef asks.

 

“Does hearing derogatory language used about LGBTQ people really matter that much?” Rosa challenges.

 

“Yes,” Stef says.  “And that is not the same thing.”

 

“No, it’s not.  But I’m speaking of a larger issue.  Just like it’s important to use preferred language in our community,” (Stef is stunned as Rosa gestures to herself, Stef and Lena in turn.)  It’s important to do the same with your kids’ communities.”

 

Lena’s actually taking notes.

 

“So...we’ve been really struggling with our daughter since her injury,” Stef decides to plunge right in.  That’s why Rosa’s here, right.

 

“When you say struggling with her...what do you mean, exactly?” Rosa asks.

 

“Well, I mean, for example...since the accident...her language has been terrible.  Cursing. That kind of thing.”

 

“Oh, so she never cursed before?” Rosa asks.

 

“No.  She did.  It’s just...so much more now,” Stef admits.  

 

“But think about it.  Maybe she’s got more to curse about now than she did before,” Rosa points out.

 

“Well, right.  But that’s not really acceptable out in the world….”

 

“Um...have you driven in rush hour traffic lately?  Or been to a school? Or any public place where things don’t go according to plan?  People curse all the time. It’s not just your daughter. And, speaking for myself? I really needed to have a way to express my frustration.  No, it didn’t always come out in ‘appropriate’ ways. But they were the ways I had available to me at the time,” Rosa checks her phone. “I should take this.  But I’ll check in later.”

 

“Excuse me,” Lena asks.  “You’re obviously much improved from venting your frustration by cursing people out.  Can I ask what changed?”

 

“People taking me seriously,” Rosa answers over her shoulder.

 

Stef waits until Rosa’s out of earshot and then stage-whispers to Lena: “Like it’s just that easy.  We take Mariana seriously! She still does whatever the hell she wants! We just got the call from the receptionist that she hasn’t been showing up for therapy anymore.”

 

Lena sighs.  “Don’t remind me…  I already have a million notes in my phone and it’s only halfway through the first day.  I’m going to have to organize these.”

 

“Organize them after you eat, love.  You’ll need your strength. We’re learning more about ableism next,” Stef passes along, cringing.

 

\--

 

Stef tries not to nod off in the Overview on Ableism session.  This one is led by another boy like the one with the letter board, but not the one she met.  This one is older.

 

_ My name is Theo.  I am 18. I have autism _ appears one letter at a time on the PowerPoint screen behind Theo.  It takes ages for him to type out what he wants to say.

 

_ I am going to share about ableism.  There are several kinds. One kind is not providing access.  What does that look like? Anyone? _

 

Stef looks around, wondering if this kid is serious.  He can’t really call on people anyway.

 

_ Marty.  Red shirt _ , Theo types, stunning Stef.

 

The man Theo called on looks startled, too.  “Uh...not having a ramp…” he manages.

 

_ Yes, good answer.  It is important for us to have access to things we need.   _

 

_ Another kind has to do with language.  Does anyone know ableist language? _

 

Rosa, who is also up front, whispers to Theo.  He nods.

 

“It is possible to share your examples of ableist language without actually saying offensive things.  For example: The R-word. The C-word,” she lists.

 

“Wait.  What’s the C-word?” Stef whispers to Lena, who shrugs.  “What’s the C-word?” she calls out louder.

 

_ No, _ Theo types.  The word appears by itself.   _ Also, words like st-p-d, cr-zy, ins-ne, sp-d.  Don’t say these. Thank you. _

 

_ Another type is abled people not checking their privilege.  This can look like using accessible spaces because of convenience.  What spaces? Examples? _

 

“The biggest bathroom stall,” someone volunteers.

 

“The elevator,” someone else says.

 

_ Yes,  _ Theo types. 

 

_ Another type is assuming we have zero autonomy.  Ask first before you touch us, try to move us, or jump into our conversations. _

 

Stef just barely holds back from rolling her eyes.  She can feel Rosa watching her now. So, instead, Stef just fixes her gaze at the PowerPoint screen behind Theo.

 

_ Another type of ableism is feeling entitled to know how someone became disabled.  That’s rude. Just don’t ask. Maybe when people get to know you they’ll offer it.  But don’t insist to know. _

 

Stef slides a look Lena’s way.  Her wife is looking mighty guilty right now, a blush rising in her cheeks.

 

Reaching for Lena’s hand doesn’t work - she pulls away - continuing to take notes on her phone.

 

_ One last type,  _ Theo begins.   _ When it’s assumed all disability is visible, it hurts those with invisible disabilities.  People who don’t know I have autism just assume I am disobedient. Not listening. Willfully not cooperating.  But I am always trying to obey. I am always listening. My body does not always listen to my mind, though. _

 

_ Because of invisible disabilities, sometimes people yell or think we do not need accommodations.  (Big bathroom stall. Elevator. Chair.) Not everybody who needs these looks like they need them.  Be aware of this before you call someone out for this. _

 

_ To finish, I sent questions to your kids about these different ableism types.  You can come and find their answers. Underneath, I have a question for you. _

 

\--

 

**_Have you ever had to go somewhere that didn’t have access?  What did it feel like to not have access?_ **

Fran writes: _ In 3rd grade I did not have access to ribbons on Track and Field Day until Jesus came to school with me and talked to the office people.  It felt like I was not good enough. Like I was small and worthless. _

 

**_Parent, how do you feel reading about your child’s experience?_ **

Stef writes: _ I had no idea about this!  How in the hell did this happen and no one told me?  Or Lena, apparently. It breaks my heart that Frankie had to go through this, but I am glad Jesus was there for her.  I love knowing the kids help each other. _

 

**_What ableist language have you heard before?  How does it make you feel to hear it?_ **

Mariana writes: _ The R-word.  It makes me feel crushed. _

 

**_Parent, how do you feel reading about your child’s experience?_ **

Lena writes: _ I feel crushed, too.  I always hope that my kids will not remember the bad moments of life, but focus on the good.  Hopefully soon, there will be more good to focus on than bad for her. _

 

**_Have you ever had to deal with abled people using disabled spaces?  (Parking spaces? Bathroom stalls? Elevators?) How did it impact your day?_ **

Fran writes: _ It impacts me every single day.  I can’t use the bathroom at school because people are always in the one with the bar, and I need it to reach the toilet and for keeping my balance.  I don’t go until I get home. _

 

**_Parent, how do you feel reading about your child’s experience?_ **

Lena writes: _ Anchor Beach is not an accessible school.  But I had no idea Frankie was not going to the bathroom there because of access issues.  I don’t understand why she wouldn’t tell us these things... _

 

**_Have you ever experienced someone helping you without asking first?  If they put hands on you, what does that feel like? What do you wish they would do instead?_ **

Jesus writes: _ I have experienced people putting hands on me - trying to help - without asking first.  It felt so violating and awful. It took me back in time to when all my trauma happened. I wish people would be more patient and understanding.  There is always a way to help someone without violating our boundaries. _

 

**_Parent, how do you feel reading about your child’s experience?_ **

Stef writes: _ I am so sorry that Jesus had to experience this.  I know the time he is describing and I wish it did not have to happen.  Contrary to what he says, though, there is not always a way to help without putting hands on people.  Sometimes, it is necessary. I just wish he didn’t remember it. _

 

**_Has anyone ever asked you how you got your disability?  What happened? What do you wish happened?_ **

Mariana writes: _ Yes.  I hate it. People still ask.  Other people just share like it is no big deal.  Like it is okay. I wish they’d tell people who ask it’s none of their business.  I wish they’d defend me. _

 

**_Parent, how do you feel reading about your child’s experience?_ **

Stef writes: _ I didn’t realize she felt this way.  Talking to Rosa has made me realize that I could stand to do better in these situations.  I always hated it when people in the grocery store asked about my personal issues. Didn’t realize it was the same for the kids. _

 

**_How does having an invisible disability impact you?  What do you wish people knew about your disability?_ **

Jesus writes: _ I wish people knew that having an invisible disability impacts almost every aspect of my life.  That I mostly try to cope / cover it up. So it looks like I’m functioning on the level of everyone else.  Really, it takes up so much effort. I wish people understood that I am always trying so hard. That I don’t forget things on purpose or get triggered on purpose or self harm on purpose.  That I literally cannot help those things. _

 

**_Parent, how do you feel reading about your child’s experience?_ **

Lena writes: _This, actually, doesn’t surprise me at all.  I taught Jesus at home, the remainder of eighth grade through high school.  I know he has issues focusing and in other areas. I don’t overlook that. In those years, especially, we lived his disability with him._


	161. Hard To Believe

Lena really should have known.  

 

She’s been looking forward to this 2 PM break ever since the Overview on Ableism session.  She needs to talk to Stef about the kids’ answers to these questions. But it turns out, they won’t be talking alone.  Rosa, Olivia and a young man Lena hasn’t met yet, who’s about the twins’ age all join them as they pack up for another walk outside.

 

“Hey,” Olivia greets.  She’s bright. Warm. She’s said she’s in her late 20s but could still be a teenager for how youthful she appears.  “We wanted to sit down with you. Talk about your kids’ answers, if you’re up for it. Or have any questions about them.  When Theo sent these, he also got consent for those of us who have their same disabilities to read their responses and talk about them with you.”

 

“Wow...thorough,” Stef quips.

 

“That actually would be great,” Lena volunteers, ignoring Stef’s clear desire to vacate as soon as possible.  If Olivia’s willing to answer questions about Frankie’s CP and situations she’s been in, Lena can’t, on good conscience, pass that up.

 

They settle outdoors, at a picnic table under a tree.  A good distance away from other parents who are also talking to their point people.  Lena realizes they are the only couple to have three speakers lined up to hear their kids’ concerns.

 

Olivia’s ready first.

 

“So, our youngest has CP.  And she shared that she apparently didn’t have access to ribbons on Track and Field Day a few years ago?” Lena shares.

 

“Okay,” Olivia says scanning Frankie’s answer.  “She says that her brother went to school with her and spoke to people in the office so she would be allowed to get them?  Do you remember this happening?” 

 

“No,” Lena shakes her head.  “I’m sorry. I don’t. I don’t remember her mentioning it to me at all.  I remember the day? Track and Field Day. Because she actually got an award for the arm hang.”

 

“Stef, you don’t recall this?” Olivia asks.

 

“Clearly not,” Stef remarks.  “I don’t understand why she wouldn’t say something.  We’d have done something. She has to know that.”

 

“Okay, but she was eight.  Think about being eight,” Olivia urges.  “Were there things you kept from your parents?”

 

Lena exchanges a knowing glance with Stef.

 

“Yes, but this is important.  Our daughter’s not using the bathroom at school.  What do we do about that?” Stef insists.

 

“It’s actually a really common issue in our community,” Olivia shares, surprising Lena.  “Most people I’ve talked to with CP - and even other visible disabilities - do what Francesca’s done.  Because there’s a lot that goes into using the bathroom for us.”

 

“Such as?” Lena asks at the same time as Stef shares:

 

“Frankie’s been independent in the bathroom since first grade.”

 

“Look.  I’m not doubting her ability.  I am saying that there are a lot of other things to consider for us.  Distance to the bathroom. Time it takes to cover that distance. Usually, regular passing times are not long enough for us to do what we have to do.”

 

“Because everyone is using the restrooms then…” Lena realizes.

 

“Right.  So, it’s crowded.  If your daughter’s school is anything like mine?  Sometimes the accessible stall was the only one that was full.  Because two girls at a time were in there checking their phones, talking, smoking, whatever.  They use the extra space as privacy to be social. So, it’s entirely realistic that Francesca might do all she can to wait until she gets home to use the bathroom.  Limiting her fluid intake. Maybe even her food intake.”

 

“But that’s not safe,” Stef points out.  “She’s going to end up dehydrated or with an eating disorder.  And she’s skinny enough. She needs to eat.”

 

“I agree with you,” Olivia says.  “I also want you to know that her sharing these things with you took a lot of courage.  I know I was always terrified of disappointing my parents. I wanted them to be proud of me.  Francesca isn’t doing this to be difficult or to frustrate you. She’s trying to minimize your stress by handling these things by herself or with her siblings.”

 

“So, what do you suggest?” Lena asks.  “We have to address these things. Especially her not using the bathroom.”

 

“The most straightforward way to address this would be to amend her IEP at the earliest opportunity,” Olivia suggests.  “Make sure there are bathroom break times built into her schedule. So that she knows at these times, she can use the bathroom and won’t be penalized for it.”

 

“She doesn’t have an IEP,” Lena says.  “We’re a charter school. Besides, she’s independent at school.”

 

“Maybe the four of us could sit down together when she comes on Wednesday?  Try to come to a solution?” Olivia says after a long pause.

 

“That’s possible,” Stef agrees.

 

“Thank you for discussing this with us,” Lena says, as Olivia gets up.  

 

\--

 

Rosa has to gird herself before interacting with the Adams Foster moms.  She has Pablo (who will speak about Disabilities and Trauma), Nira (Gaslighting) and even little Jonah (Disabilities and Physical Abuse) offering to call her after fifteen minutes, just to give Rosa an out if she needs it.

 

She approaches in time to overhear Stef loudly whispering to Lena about how shocked she is that the whole of the CP community doesn’t have kidney infections and dehydration.

 

Lena smooths on a smile as Rosa sits down.  “You’re back,” she says.

 

“That I am,” Rosa answers.  “So, I have a copy of Mariana’s answers, with consent from her, of course.”

 

“Of course,” Stef echoes, and Rosa’s not entirely sure if she’s being mocked right now.  She decides to give Stef the benefit of the doubt.

 

“So...Mariana’s heard the R-word?” Rosa asks.  It takes every ounce of her energy to manage her tone.  To make it something conversational and not accusing.  

 

“It just breaks my heart,” Lena says.  “Like I said in my journal response...I just wish that she were able to focus on the good moments instead of the bad.”

 

“But is ignoring her experience really going to help here?” Rosa tries.  “Where do you imagine she might have heard this?”

 

Stef shrugs cavalierly.  “Around. We have a pretty well-known family.  The public knows our story. And hers. It’s entirely possible some well-meaning person used the word.”

 

“You think someone well-meaning used the word?” Rosa asks, floored.

 

“Well there’s so much policing of language nowadays.  Earlier today, even. That little boy was sweet as could be, but being told what I can and can’t say?  By a ten-year-old? That’s off-putting, to say the least. I’m an adult.”

 

“Jonah’s a teenager,” Rosa informs them.  “All of our speakers must be at least thirteen.”

 

“That’s barely older than Frankie,” Stef sputters.

 

“I think, what Stef’s trying to say is that it might take time to get used to everything that’s being asked of us--”

 

“--Because right about now, it feels like I’m being nitpicked to death…” Stef interjects.

 

“Why is that?” Rosa asks softly, when she really wants to scream.  When it’s clear that Stef’s not about to be forthcoming about what Rosa suspects - that Stef’s used the R-word on Mariana - Rosa opens up about herself.  “You know, the first time I ever heard it? Post-injury? From my father. And it was absolutely crushing.”

 

“We’re crushed, too, that she has to remember these moments,” Lena objects.

 

“But this is about Mariana’s entire identity shifting.  Transforming. By something she’s not in control of. Whatever her symptoms, she didn’t choose them.  And whatever the situation, that language won’t do anything but make her feel worse. I’ll leave this one alone for now.  But what about her second question?”

 

“What about it?” Stef asks.

 

“Do you remember an instance like Mariana’s describing?  Where someone asked her about what happened to her?”

 

“That’s happened several times,” Stef admits.

 

“And she wished the people she was with would have said it isn’t the public’s business.  Defended her. What do you think about what she said?” Rosa asks carefully.

 

“I think it makes sense,” Stef admits.  “I’ve had my share of illness and injury, and I know what it’s like to have people think they can just ask about it.  I wished somebody was there to defend me, too.”

 

“So, you empathize,” Rosa deduces.

 

Stef nods.

 

“Lena?” Rosa asks.

 

“I think it makes sense that Stef felt bothered by people’s inquiries because her situations have been relatively short-term.  But I do wonder...isn’t it better to teach Mariana, or Frankie to educate people? I mean, since, as you’ve said, brain injuries don’t just go away?”

 

“So...you’re asking whether I think the public is entitled to private medical information from your daughters, because their disabilities are lifelong, and they should educate people at the public’s every whim?” Rosa asks, raising her eyebrows.

 

(Does she even know how this sounds?)

 

“Well…” Lena’s cheeks go pink.  She has the grace to be embarrassed.  “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds terrible…”

 

“Yeah, it does,” Stef agrees.  

 

Rosa’s phone buzzes on the table:

 

**_Jonah:_ **

_ Five...four...three...two...one....RUN! [smiling emoji] _

 

“I’m so sorry.  I have to run,” Rosa says, just managing to keep a smile from her lips as she says it.

 

She gets up, taking a deep breath, and lets it out, warning Pablo on his way by, in Spanish, to be ready for these two.

 

\--

 

Pablo takes Rosa seriously.  If Rosa says be ready for these two moms, he’s gonna be ready for them.  

 

You’d have to live under a rock in the LGBTQ+ community not to know them.  Not to know their story. Some choose to not look very close at them. Choose to celebrate them just because they’re two moms raising lots of kids and had something terrible happen to one of them.  Had another born with disability. And a third acquire disability recently.  

 

But Pablo pays attention.  On social media, he pays attention.  So while he doesn’t follow people in a scary way - figuring out their personal lives - he can’t help but see what’s out there.  Especially on Twitter.

 

It’s been five months, and Pablo still has not seen the pictures.  The photo controversy ones from May. They would be easy enough to find.  He knows Jesus Adams Foster’s name. Could recognize his face without trouble.  And his siblings, too. He’s only a year younger than Jesus and Mariana.

 

But just because Pablo can, doesn’t mean he should.  Doesn’t mean he will.

 

And he’s not ready to unload all of his trauma with these moms.  But he does have it. So, in this way, and in maybe a few others, he and Jesus are alike.

 

“Hi.  I’m Pablo,” he introduces himself, offering a hand to shake.  Stef takes it first. Her handshake is firm. Strong. Lena follows, her own a little softer.  “I’m here to talk to you about your son’s answers to Theo’s questions.”

 

“I don’t know that there’s anything that needs discussing…” Stef hedges.  “We’ve been living with Jesus’s trauma for a long time now. We’re not strangers to it.”

 

“No, maybe not.  But do you know what he’s talking about here?  Somebody putting hands on him without asking?” Pablo wonders.

 

“Well...I assume it was an early doctor’s appointment…” Stef shares, leaning in.  “For those… I mean, they are necessary. As scary as it was for him, we needed it done.”

 

“Lena, what about you?  Do you agree?” Pablo asks.

 

“Well, I thought maybe it could have been at your dad’s cabin?” she asks Stef.  “Remember? The night he came in late and Brandon ended up intervening…”

 

“Right.  I guess it could be that…” Stef admits.

 

“Is it possible Jesus might have a different point of view?  Might be thinking of a different moment?” Pablo presses gently.

 

“I mean, anything is possible, I guess…” Stef relents.

 

“What about what he says about having an invisible disability?” Pablo asks.

 

“Oh, we know that already,” Lena says, like she’s assuring him.  “I taught Jesus the last five years of his schooling. I’m well aware of his shortcomings.”

 

“Stef?” Pablo checks, wincing at Lena’s language.

 

“I am well aware of his shortcomings, too,” Stef says.  “Really, there are no surprises with regard to Jesus. “It’s more the girls.”

 

“It’s more the girls…” Pablo repeats, confused.  “Which girls?”

 

“Our daughters.  Mariana and Frankie.  We already spoke to people about them,” Stef says.  “Not that it helped matters much…”

 

“Well, maybe I can help.” Pablo offers.

 

“I doubt it, since you’re not a parent and you don’t have to deal with your children making a fool of you by dropping brand new information at a forum like this, which they never bothered to tell us in the first place.”  (It’s like Stef can barely contain her ranting…)

 

“I’m not a parent.  But I am a speaker here, and I can tell you this:  This information was given by them for you to process.  Not for you to use against them later on. Do not come at them for sharing this with you.  It’s very likely why they hold back on telling you these things in the first place,” Pablo says, unable to disguise his dislike for these women anymore.

 

(Really, who would share such private moments about their kids with the whole world?  And Pablo definitely knows about the blog dedicated to Mariana’s recovery. He’s never read that either.)

 

“You know if you weren’t so cute I’d be pretty pissed off right now…” Stef says.

 

“Yeah, I get that a lot.  You think it’s the eyebrows?” Pablo asks, letting his own self-deprecating humor shine through.  (His eyebrows, everyone knows, are the hairiest feature on his smooth baby face.)

 

“Maybe…” Stef laughs.  

 

“Well, thank you, Pablo, for coming to talk to us,” Lena interjects, looking embarrassed.  “We look forward to hearing more from you at...what did you say your session was?”

 

“Disability and Trauma,” Pablo says.  He’s lost the smile.

 

They do, too.

 

He gets up and walks away, leaving them at the picnic table behind him.


	162. Let Me Down

Back inside, the stifling air chokes Stef.  She can feel herself stiffen even more as she sees the orange-shoed boy who was making all the racket this morning up in front of them now.  (He had said he was a speaker. But Stef hadn’t thought he was serious.)  

 

She supposes she should have come around to the idea or been convinced after seeing the Overview on Ableism session led by the kid who couldn’t talk either. But two of them back to back like this?  It’s going to get old fast.

 

Unlike the Overview on Ableism session, this kid’s words appear on the screen, almost as if they have been pre-prepared.  Full sentences, without lags. (Having been on the receiving end of his excruciatingly slow communication, Stef supposes she should be grateful for this small miracle.  Really, though, she’s just annoyed. And more skeptical than ever.)

 

**MY NAME IS CORBIN.  I AM 13 YEARS OLD. I AM HERE TO SHARE ABOUT DISABILITY AND SOCIAL MEDIA.**

 

Stef can’t hold back her snort of laughter.  “Please. He’s barely old enough to  _ have _ social media.  What’s he going to tell us that we don’t already know?”

 

**I HAVE HAD MY OWN BLOG SINCE I WAS 9.  BEFORE THAT, MOM BLOGGED ABOUT ME WITHOUT ME KNOWING.  TOO MUCH SHARING ABOUT ME.**

 

Stef’s stomach sinks.  So, he’s not here to talk about his own social media.  He’s here to tell about his experience being shared about on social media.  Well, Stef’s finally in luck. She hates social media and never shares anything there, not even about herself.  She sits back. Maybe she can still get that nap in.

 

“Don’t you dare,” Lena whispers, poking her awake.  “You can’t hear him talk, so you have to keep your eyes open.”

 

“Why?  I don’t share on social media.  This session has Lena written all over it,” Stef grumbles.

 

**I AM VERY SMART FUNNY HANDSOME PERSON. BUT MOM ONLY SHARED MY ABOUT MY MEAN BODY NOT OBEYING MY STRONG MIND.  ONLY SHARED RAGEY CORBIN. PINCHING HITTING MAD CORBIN.**

 

**NOTHING ABOUT GENTLE HAPPY NICE CORBIN.**

 

**FELT VERY SAD MAD BAD ABOUT IT ALL.**

 

“Is your mom here?” someone from the audience asks.

 

Then, they do have to wait as this kid painstakingly (apparently) points to  **Y-E-S.** This response appears on the PowerPoint behind him.  Then, he grabs the woman’s arm beside him. The one Stef assumed was his aide because they look nothing alike.  He’s black. She’s white, for one thing.

 

“Are you really okay with letting him share this kind of thing?” the same parent asks from the audience.

 

At the front of the room, the kid appears to try and bolt.  A beautiful long-haired golden retriever is with him. Why has it taken Stef so long to notice?  She’s a dog lover to boot. Between the dog and his mom, they get the kid to stay put.

 

She’s being way too soft, whispering to him, letting him walk around up front while she addresses the crowd.

 

“Hi, I’m Nichole.  I’m Corbin’s mom. I asked Corbin if he’d be okay with me answering this question.  He said yes. I told him he’s not in any trouble. Because he’s not. I did blog about him, in very disrespectful ways.  The blog is gone now. But the damage it’s done remains between us. It took Corbin a long time to trust me again.”  

 

Corbin makes a pass behind his mom.  His shadow is huge against the PowerPoint screen.

 

“Corbin, are you ready to come back?” she asks.

 

He doesn’t respond.

 

“Isn’t it your call as a parent?  What you share on social media? I mean, all parents get to share about their kids?  And what are you saying? We don’t?” the same disgruntled parent asks from the audience.

 

The kid swipes papers off a table behind his mom.

 

“Need a break?” she asks him, using that same too-gentle-babying voice.

 

He doesn’t respond in any way that Stef can discern.

 

“Okay.  Can I help you stand next to me?” Nichole asks.

 

Again, no response Stef can make out from the boy, but Nichole gently guides her son until he’s standing between her and the dog.

 

“It is not our call as parents to disrespect our children with disabilities.  Think about it. If the Internet existed when I was growing up and my parents decided to share about me when I was having a hard time.  When I had embarrassing personal things happen to me. When I was overwhelmed and out of control. It makes sense that Corbin wants to spell about this.  And, to be clear, my experience as a kid and Corbin’s experience are vastly different.”

 

**M-O-M M-O-M M-O-M M-O-M** appears on the screen behind them before it abruptly goes dark.

 

Nichole whispers to Corbin again.  

 

“That’s the first regular thing he’s done.  And she’s rewarding it,” Stef scowls. “He’s going to think he can get attention that way.”

 

“We’re not his parents, Stef,” Lena sighs.

 

\--

 

Nira takes a deep breath and sits beside the women with three names.  Three names. Three of them. Nira. Stef. Lena.  

 

One glance back.   _ Keep you safe _ .  He promised.  Always true. He nods it.

 

One.  Two. Three steps.  (“ _ Can you sit _ ?”)  It’s his voice.  Roman’s, Dad’s.

 

She can sit.  Down, down, down.

 

Deep breath in.  Find the words.

 

“He is communicating,” Nira says softly.  Her foot taps three times.

 

“I’m sorry?” STEF, her nametag says in angry letters.  Too many points. Just one sound. Too harsh. Too much.

 

“I’m not sorry,” Nira says.  Then, “He is communicating. Corbin and Nichole.  He needs her.”

 

“Okay…” LENA.  Better yet now.  Still four letters.  But two syllables. Like Roman.  Like Ocean, which is her favorite.

 

“Spelled her name.  Asked for her. Corbin asked.  For Nichole. So she came,” Nira explains.  Speaking in threes helps. Three words. Or three syllables.  Groups of threes are friendly.  

 

“Oh.  I see,” Lena answers.

 

Nira can’t help but smile.  Three words back. She stays put.  Looks for Roman. He shows three fingers.  One for  _ I _ .  One for  _ love _ .  One for  _ you _ .

 

She shows three back.  Reaches in. Her hands touch.  Three smooth stones.

 

_ Click. Click.  Click. _

 

\--

 

Stef is finally focused on the front of the room.  Easier that than to stare at the odd-mannered woman next to them.  She’s well dressed. Tiny. The way she chooses to get her point across is strange.  But it works, Stef supposes.

 

Just like Corbin spelling his mom’s name repeatedly got her attention.

 

**TOOK A LONG TIME TO COMMUNICATE.  SPELLING’S EASY. CONTROLLING HAND AND FINGER IS NOT.  BODY CONTROL TOOK A LOT OF TIME. BLOCKING OUT SENSORY INPUT TOOK ALL ENERGY.**

 

**BUT LEARNED.  THEN GOOGLED ME.  THEN FOUND MOM’S SITE.**

 

Stef feels slightly unsettled.  She thinks - for the first time in over a year - of Mariana’s recovery site.  But no, Mariana would never find it. Would she?

 

(Stef would have bet money that a kid like the one who’s speaking to them wouldn’t be able to read much less do a basic Google search.  But the more she sees of him doing his spelling thing, the more she believes.)

 

**FELT BAD STUPID TERRIBLE RAGEY.  COULDN’T CONTROL BODY. SPELL. TELL.  WHAT WAS WRONG. TALKED TO NICE DAD. NOT ON BLOG.  HE TALKED TO MOM.**

 

**SORRY, SAID MOM.  SORRY. DELETED BLOG.  HELPED MAKE MINE. ONLY MY WORDS.  SHE PROMISED.**

 

**MOM KEEPS HER PROMISES SO KNOW SHE CAN BE TRUSTED.**

 

**QUESTIONS NOW.**

 

Stef glances around the room as hands go up.

 

**N-O.  F-O-R Y-O-U.**

 

Stef is glad she’s not one of the eager parents who embarrassed the hell out of themselves just now.  Nichole whispers to her son. She sees now, his slight nod. She clicks some buttons and questions appear on the screen for them to copy, with instructions:

 

**EMAILED KIDS TO ASK THE SAME QUESTIONS TO BOTH THEM AND YOU.  FIRST ANSWER THIS PLEASE:**

 

**HAS ANYTHING EVER BEEN SHARED ABOUT YOU ONLINE THAT YOU DID NOT WANT SHARED?  WHAT? HOW DID YOU FEEL? WHAT HAPPENED?**

Stef writes, _ Lena once shared an awful picture of me where I had a double chin.  I was so embarrassed that we had a big fight about it. I said she had to take it down and she wouldn’t right away, but eventually she did.  I felt...kind of gross I guess? Betrayed? _

 

**HAS ANYTHING EVER BEEN SHARED ABOUT YOU ONLINE THAT YOU DID NOT WANT SHARED?  WHAT? HOW DID YOU FEEL? WHAT HAPPENED?**

Lena writes, _ Callie, our 24-year-old, has been known to photograph moments that we wish she hadn’t.  Embarrassing shots of me, mid-yawn, holding up a Christmas gift. That kind of thing. I felt embarrassed, and the next time Christmas rolled around, and I caught her taking pictures I warned her I didn’t want certain ones posted.  She listened, as far as I know. _

 

**NEXT, YOUR KIDS ANSWERED,  MOM WILL HAND THEM OUT.**

 

Stef braces herself as she and Lena are handed three carefully typed answer slips:

 

**HAS ANYTHING EVER BEEN SHARED ABOUT YOU ONLINE THAT YOU DID NOT WANT SHARED?  WHAT? HOW DID YOU FEEL? WHAT HAPPENED?**

Fran writes, _ Yes, about embarrassing stories when I was just a kid.  But also stories of when people ask about why I walk my CP way in the stores.  The whole thing is shared even with a bunch of people I don’t know. I felt sad and lonely.  Nothing happened because if I talk about it I’ll get in trouble probably. _

 

“How is she looking on social media?” Lena asks in a horrified whisper.  “She doesn’t even  _ have _ social media!”

 

“No, but hasn’t she been checking the older kids’ Instagrams and yours for years?  Because Callie used to take those backward selfies of her?” Stef asks.

 

“You’re right, but still…” Lena sighs.  She has no business being online and checking out what we post.  I thought we were still a couple years away from this…”

 

**HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT YOUR CHILD’S ANSWER?**

Stef writes, _ Surprised _

Lena writes, _ And betrayed… _

 

**HAS ANYTHING EVER BEEN SHARED ABOUT YOU ONLINE THAT YOU DID NOT WANT SHARED?**

Mariana writes, _ Yes. _

 

**WHAT?**

Mariana writes, _ Not comfortable. _

 

**HOW DID YOU FEEL?**

Mariana writes, _ Like I wanted to die. _

 

**WHAT HAPPENED?**

Mariana writes _ , A friend helped me. _

 

Lena drops her voice to a whisper again and asks.  “What do you think she’s talking about? The pictures?  She can’t have felt that badly about a few pictures.”

 

“Well, I guess we’ll never know since she’s  _ not comfortable _ ,” Stef mimics.  (But inside, she’s hoping to God she’s wrong.  That Mariana didn’t find what Stef is thinking she found.)

 

**HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT YOUR CHILD’S ANSWER?**

Both write, _ Confused. _

 

**HAS ANYTHING EVER BEEN SHARED ABOUT YOU ONLINE THAT YOU DID NOT WANT SHARED?  WHAT? HOW DID YOU FEEL? WHAT HAPPENED?**

Jesus writes, _ Do you want a list?  Yes, all the time. Tons of stuff I’d rather not be specific about.  I felt like a warm body. Like nothing. I don’t understand the last part. _

 

**HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT YOUR CHILD’S ANSWER?**

Lena writes, _ Heartbroken, we know Jesus has been shared about a lot without his consent.  And we wish so much that was not the case. _

Stef writes, _ Yes, heartbroken. _

 

\--

 

Stef can see parents sneaking away outside after they’re done writing their answers and she nods to the door waiting for Lena to notice, too.  

 

She does.

 

“Wanna head out?” Stef asks.

 

“We look forward to seeing you all again tomorrow.  Those of you who would like to stick around, those of us who are point people will be here until 5 PM for processing and / or questions.”  It’s Rosa again.    

 

“Oh, but Stef.  Processing and questions,” Lena urges, getting that gleam in her eyes that Stef recognizes whenever Lena gets caught up in learning something new.

 

“Seriously?  You haven’t had enough processing and questions?  I’m pretty sure Rosa wants to deck me,” Stef says, only half kidding.

 

“Oh, she is not.  She’s much less impulsive than Miss Thang,” Lena insists.  “Please, Stef. This is important. I want us to get as much out of it as we can.  We might not have an opportunity to talk to people like this once we’re back to living our lives.  I want to make the most of it while we have them here. While they’re willing to talk. They’re only staying one more hour.”

 

“So, we can drive home in rush hour.  Great,” Stef says, no humor in her tone whatsoever.  “Fine. One more hour. But can we make a deal? Can we not discuss workshop stuff at home?  Because I need time to decompress. And not just an hour here and there.”

 

“Sounds great,” Lena agrees.  “You don’t think this is what Mariana’s going to be like in 20 years, do you?  Leading workshops about all the things we did wrong?”

 

“Honestly?  Having met some of these people, and especially Rosa?  I’m not sure what to expect from Mariana…” Stef says.  

 

She can tell it’s not the answer Lena’s expecting.  She was going for light. Kidding.

 

But Stef’s feeling more introspective.

 

What could Mariana have found that would have made her feel so terrible?

 

As they walk outside, Stef searches for Mariana’s TBI Journey.  Finds zero results. Breathes a sigh of relief at the realization that Lena must have taken it down.  Or found some way to make it private.

 

Stef can’t think too deeply about that right now.  

 

She tries to just focus on breathing.  On Lena at her side. At having no obligations for the moment.

 

It feels good.

 

For just a moment, Stef feels lighter.


	163. It's Quiet Uptown

It’s impossible to fully articulate just how much seeing Corbin actually spelling and communicating with an audience has done for Lena.  She feels invigorated. Inspired. If this is what’s possible for one child, then the sky really is the limit for her own.

 

She wants nothing more than to approach them.  Thank Nichole. But his mother wastes no time in walking with him out the doors.

 

Lena sighs, unable to conceal her disappointment.  Who knows if Corbin will even be back the remainder of the week, what with his session already done?

 

“What?” Stef asks, picking up on Lena’s mood.

 

“I was just hoping to talk to his mother, I guess,” Lena admits.  “Thank her, maybe?”

 

“He’s just a kid, Lena.  Besides, you know how we feel when strangers approach our kids.  Nichole probably doesn’t like it happening to her son anymore than we do.  Anyway, you’re the one who wanted to stay, so who do you want to talk to?”

 

“Well, we should probably find Olivia,” Lena admits.  Of the three people assigned to help them relate to their kids, Olivia is the easiest to talk to, by far.  She’s easy going and sweet-natured. It’s not hard to look at her and imagine one version of what Frankie might be, all grown up.

 

\--

 

Olivia’s seated just off the cafe.  This building used to be a church, and strangely, it had a coffee bar, with cookies, maybe to attract visitors.  Not that Olivia’s complaining. She sits and sips her hazelnut cappuccino, enjoying a few moments of solitude before she suspects she’ll be descended upon by Lena Adams Foster.  Possibly Stef, too.

 

They seem nice enough - no, they seem too much like Olivia’s own parents for comfort - but she’s willing to do this.  To be here for them in this way. Because if her own parents ever showed up to something like this? Olivia would hope that there was someone who might be able to gently educate them in a way they could actually internalize.  

 

But more than any of that, Olivia’s here for Francesca.  A little girl she’s spent the last decade hearing about sporadically on the news in connection to her brother.  A little girl with no choice about the family she was born into, or their prejudices.

 

Just the few answers Olivia’s seen from Francesca so far lets her know that they have so much in common.  Olivia’s heart breaks for her, and she selfishly hopes that Francesca will come on Wednesday. That, maybe, they’ll get the chance to meet.

 

“Here, you want a cookie?” Pablo greets, sitting down across from Olivia, pushing a biscotti her way.

 

“Thanks, yeah,” Olivia nods.

 

“So, how do you think they’re doing?” Rosa wonders, pulling up a chair to join them.  

 

“Hard to tell,” Olivia offers diplomatically.

 

“The blonde mom thinks I’m cute.  So I drop some truth bombs on her,” Pablo says.  “She can’t resist this face.”

 

“Shut up,” Rosa laughs.  “Not everybody is going to fall all over themselves for you, Pablito.”

 

“Oh, you just wait and see.  Olivia thinks I have a very nice face.  Am I right?” Pablo asks, batting his eyelashes.

 

“Olivia’s uncomfortable right now…” Olivia shares, in case it’s not clear by her embarrassing habit of speaking about herself in the third person.

 

“Head’s up,” Pablo tells them, and all three stop joking at once.  Stef and Lena are coming over. “Hey. Sorry I made you uncomfortable.” Pablo tells Olivia, genuinely.

 

Olivia nods.  “I forgive you.”

 

“Hey.  What’s with all the forgiveness talk?” Stef offers brashly.  “I mean, I could tell this place was a church when we walked in, but we don’t have to do all that stuff, do we?” she wrinkles her nose.

 

“Love, I’m going to get coffee.  Want anything?” Lena asks.

 

“The usual,” Stef passes along, pulling extra chairs up to the table.

 

\--

 

Lena takes her time ordering and paying.  Long enough to notice that the crowd has really thinned out.  Corbin and Nichole aren’t the only ones who made a quick exit.  But Lena knows from experience just how difficult it is to secure childcare when your kids are disabled.  Especially once Jesus came back, she and Stef rarely went anywhere. Jesus didn’t like going out. And the only thing he hated more is when they left him and the kids behind, even when they were old enough.

 

Eventually, Lena’s back at the table, handing Stef a warm cup and a muffin.

 

“Thanks,” Stef says.

 

“So, Stef was saying you’re really into asking questions and processing, Lena,” Rosa speaks up.

 

“I am,” Lena sits a little straighter.  “I really look forward to utilizing you all, while we have you.”

 

“Hold on, hold on, hold on…” Pablo interjects, and Lena can tell immediately by his tone that she’s made some grave error.  “ _ Utilizing _ us?  We’re not objects for you to use.  We belong to ourselves. And we’re being paid for our time.”

 

“Right.  I’m sorry.  I meant...well...you said you all were resources.  That’s all I meant. We don’t usually have the chance to talk to people like our kids.”

 

“Why not?” Pablo asks.

 

“Well, we don’t really see them.  And as you’ve pointed out, it’s rude to ask any passerby if they have this or that disability.”

 

“We do see them,” Stef adds unhelpfully.

 

Rosa, Olivia and Pablo’s eyes all turn toward her in unison, expecting.

 

“We’re just so busy…” Stef manages weakly.

 

“Did you have any questions about the social media answers your kids gave?” Olivia answers.  “I know those can be...surprising…”

 

“You can say that again,” Stef remarks.  “Frankie’s apparently sleuthing around on Lena’s social media enough to know that there were a few stories Lena shared that she didn’t like…”

 

“Embarrassing stories from when she was just a kid,” Olivia reads.  “Also...stories of when people ask about her gait in stores?”

 

“I’m sorry to interject,” Rosa says, apologetic, “but this wouldn’t be an example of what you mentioned earlier, Lena, would it?  Your feeling that Francesca and Mariana ought to educate people?”

 

“I’m sure it would,” Lena nods.  “I don’t remember the specific instance.”

 

“Her use of the word  _ stories  _ makes me think there were several,” Olivia points out gently.  Were either of you able to take in how she felt about that?”

 

“We weren’t asked how we felt about how they felt,” Stef points out.

 

“But Olivia’s asking now,” Pablo says, matter of fact.

 

“She says she felt sad and lonely,” Lena observes, taking time to read the words.  “Wow. She never said this to me.”

 

“Often, we won’t,” Olivia says, quiet.  “It’s more likely to come out in behavior.”

 

“She’s eleven,” Lena points out.  “Way past the acting out stage…” 

 

But a memory nudges at the back of Lena’s mind.  After going out for pizza with the girls. Frankie’s total meltdown in the car on the way home.  Had there been a comment earlier that night? How had she and Stef handled that? Had they heard it at all?

 

“It’s less about looking at behavior as acting out, and more about reframing it as communication,” Rosa offers.  “Francesca might not have said the words  _ I feel sad and lonely _ to you at the time, but did her behavior indicate she was in distress?  If so, she  _ did _ tell you.”

 

Lena makes a note in her phone.   **Behavior can = nonverbal communication** .

 

“So, what do we do then?” Lena asks.  “Because I was always taught that in order to be listened to, even as a child, I had to calm down and communicate clearly.”

 

“Verbally,” Rosa fills in, eyebrows raised.

 

“Yes,” Lena nods.

 

“Your kids?” Rosa begins.  “Maybe especially Mariana, might struggle to communicate verbally.  So, what I would suggest is to start to expand your limits on what is acceptable communication.  Some kids will do better writing out how they feel in a journal. Others might text. Or email. All these forms of communication are valid.  I understand your avenues of communication were restricted as a child, Lena.”

 

Lena nods.

 

“Did you feel validated?” Rosa asks.  “When you were forced to calm down and communicate in a way that didn’t betray your emotions?”

 

“Wait.  Was-- Was I?” Lena asks, confused.

 

“It sounds like it,” Pablo nods, sad.

 

“Did you feel validated?” Rosa probes softly again.

 

“Not particularly, no.” Lena admits.

 

“Now, imagine that your ability to communicate is restricted.  But maybe no one notices. Last night, when you went to bed, you knew where every single word was.  What you meant to say is what came out, 99% of the time,” Rosa explains. “You didn’t even have to think about it.  But the next morning, all that’s changed. Your words are gone, but the people around you still expect you to find and use them like a nondisabled person.”

 

“You’re talking about the way we are with Mariana…” Stef points out, eyes dark.

 

“No.  I’m talking about the way my own family was with me,” Rosa answers flatly.

 

“It’s possible,” Olivia offers, timid, “That maybe Francesca doesn’t feel like her voice matters.  That even if she speaks up, she’ll get be overruled by older siblings. Louder personalities. That kind of thing.  It couldn’t hurt to let all your kids know you’re fine with them communicating with you via email, text, journaling or whatever works.”

 

Lena types:  **Widen scope of acceptable communication (text, email, journal) M has restricted ability to communicate.  Needs more avenues to safely do so.**

 

“I think Lena still wants to know what they can do,” Pablo remembers.

 

Lena nods.

 

“Well, do you remember what Mariana said about having people ask her about what happened to her?” Rosa asks.

 

“She...wished they’d mind their own business?” Lena fills in.

 

“And she wished someone would defend her,” Rosa adds the rest.  “Chances are, Francesca feels the same way. The answer to these questions you have?  Is to listen to your kids when they talk to you. Especially here. Where you can take in what they say, and really let the words sit with you before responding.  Ask them, and believe them when they give you an answer.”

 

“Oh.  Okay. Thank you,” Lena manages, rapidly making more notes in her phone:

 

**If people ask about M, F (and J!), tell them to mind their own business.  Defend kids.**

**Listen when they talk.  Believe them when they answer.**

 

\--

 

“So, I’m not gonna lie...Mariana’s answers concern me here,” Rosa says, wasting no time in getting to the heart of the matter.  “Do either of you know what Mariana could be referring to here?”

 

“No,” Lena answers honestly.  “Aside from the pictures I shared last Spring, I don’t have any idea.”

 

“And I have a hard time believing she had that reaction to pictures…” Stef remarks.

 

Olivia gapes at her.

 

“I just mean it happened months ago,” Stef says putting her hands up in surrender.  “Hard to think she’d still be wound up over it.”

 

“Okay, well regardless of what it is…” Rosa takes a deep breath, pressing a hand to her forehead, “It’s clear that there needs to be a major overhaul with the way you both are choosing to share about her online.  If there is anything - and I mean  _ anything _ \- that has you feeling a little funky.  A little unsettled maybe? That has to do with Mariana or Francesca for that matter?  I want to strongly suggest you go back in your social media history and delete it.”

 

“That will seriously take years,” Lena objects.  

 

“It will.  You don’t know how often she posts,” Stef nods.

 

“If it can be Googled, that means your kids can find it.  And they can find it even more quickly if it’s linked to your social media.”  Rosa keeps looking at Stef and Lena, wanting to convey just how much she knows about their dirty laundry.

 

The brain blog that Rosa only knows about because Pablo mentioned it.  Just the idea made her cringe. Rosa’s only saving grace was that her own accident was twenty years ago, when all things social media were still relatively new.

 

She can see Lena making notes.

 

“I know this is not in any way comfortable,” Rosa allows.  “But it also might not be a bad idea to apologize, when you’re ready.  Either when you’ve finished the social media deep clean, or once you’ve talked to them in more depth and heard what they’re not comfortable with.”

 

“Lena, I hope you’re taking all this in…” Stef mutters.

 

“This is for both of you,” Rosa insists.  “And if I may?” 

 

“Please,” Lena says, inviting.

 

“Take Mariana’s words seriously.  All of her words. But especially her saying things like she  _ wanted to die _ .  Depression is a very common coexisting mental health condition with disability.”

 

“Everybody’s depressed.  She’s just got to fight through it, right?  Like the rest of us?” Stef asks.

 

“That’s not helpful,” Rosa shakes her head.  “Because like it or not? Mariana is not like you or Lena in this.  Our community has higher rates of depression because of all the shit we deal with.”

 

It takes Rosa a second to realize Stef and Lena are staring at her with wide eyes. 

 

“Excuse me.  It’s late, and my ability to filter...censor...whatever my reactions is severely compromised.  So, yes, it’s because of the shit we deal with. Yes, there’s a fair amount of grieving a loss of abilities, like Koa said.  But that could pass a hell of a lot sooner, if we weren’t surrounded by ablesim all the damn time. She shouldn’t have to just fight through it.  She should be able to be safe, in at least one place,” Rosa manages, choking back tears.

This is officially too much.  All these years later, and it’s still hard to find her limit.  Where exactly is it? More often than not, it only registers when Rosa is well past it and swearing at a couple in a church.

 

“Okay, why don’t you and Olivia go?” Pablo says.  “I’ll take it from here.”

 

\--

 

“What button was that?” Lena wonders as soon as Rosa and Olivia walk away.

 

“That was not a button,” Pablo explains, serious.  “That’s what happens when a person has been dismissed for years.  Expected to measure up to something they can’t reach, no matter how hard they try.  So that all it takes is one more dismissal. One more failure to understand, or have compassion…and…” Pablo mimes an explosion right at the table with them.

 

“I’m sorry if I upset her.  I really was just asking a question.  I thought that was the point of us all being here…” Stef says.

 

She’s so stiff.  Pablo can tell she maybe genuinely didn’t mean any harm, but her defensiveness is not helping.

 

“When one of us shares your child’s diagnosis?  Dismissing your child can and does feel like you are dismissing us.  Many of us are here this week because we want to be the people we didn’t have growing up.  We want to teach parents what ours will never want to learn, so it’s not too late for your kids.”

 

“Looks like you turned out okay…” Stef offers, soft.

 

“Not every disability can be seen,” Pablo points out.  “Did you wanna talk about your son?”

 

“That’s not us,” Stef points out right away.  “What he’s talking about. It’s related to what happened to him.”

 

“You’re sure about that?” Pablo asks.

 

“Well, no,” Lena admits.  “Not 100%. But it’s as close as we can come, with the context he gave us.”

 

“Okay, so no need to discuss this further?” Pablo asks.

 

“We’ve always been aware of Jesus’s boundaries around sharing on social media.  Pictures. Contrary to what you might think, we don’t make a habit out of oversharing about him,” Lena says, crossing her arms.

 

“I don’t think anything,” Pablo says, even though he does.  With every ounce of his soul, he does. But in order to help these moms see reason, he has to hold back on what he really wants to say.  Instead, he asks them another question - one that causes them both to relax: “You miss your kids?”

 

“We do,” Lena admits.  Tears spring to her eyes and Pablo finds himself wondering if they’re genuine.  “So much.”

 

“Stef?” Pablo asks.

 

“I don’t do well in a quiet house,” is all she’ll say, but Pablo suspects she’s got deeper feelings buried underneath.

 

“Maybe an email?” Pablo suggests.  “We want to work on making communication better in the family, and I’m on hand to help.”

 

“We know how to write an email,” Lena quips.  “We’re not  _ that _ old.”

 

“So, how would you start one?  Say, it’s to all three?” Pablo asks.

 

He waits, as Stef opens an email on her phone and puts in three email addresses.

 

“I’d say,  _ hey my babies _ ,” she begins.

 

“That’s very nice, and they are your babies.  But it’s important to them that you see them. Three different kids.  Three kids you love. Notice. Believe. I know it seems like I am picking on you, but try using their names.  Names they’re comfortable with. So, Jesus. Mariana. Francesca.”

 

“How do you know this?” Lena asks, confused.

 

“We pay attention to how they sign off.  When they answer questions, how do they refer to themselves?  That’s usually what they’d like you to call them.”

 

“So...can I still say _ hey my babies _ ?” Stef asks, “If I address them after it?”

 

“I think that would be okay.  What else would you say? What questions would you ask them?” Pablo encourages.

 

“We miss you,” Lena passes along.  “We’re learning a lot. Um...is Frankie doing her homework?  Is Mariana going to therapy? We know she’s not.”

 

“Okay.  Hold on.  What about being specific about what you’re learning and why it’s important to you?  What about instead of asking your kids  _ what _ they’re doing - if they’re keeping up with chores or school or therapy?  You ask  _ how _ they’re doing?”

 

“What’s the difference?” Stef asks blankly.

 

“Well, if I said, ‘ _ Stef what are you doing?  Are you taking notes? Are you answering all the questions?  Are you doing everything right all the time?”  _ Does that feel different than if I said, ‘ _ Stef how are you doing with all of this?  I get that it’s new and new stuff can be overwhelming. _ ’”

 

“Well, yeah, if you said it the first way, I’d probably head for the hills and never come back,” Stef laughs ruefully.  “The second way’s a little softer? More understanding?”

 

“You’re concerned for her, as a person, not just her performance,” Lena points out.

 

And then, they’re on a roll.

 

Eventually, prior to sending, Stef shares the screen so Pablo can see it too.  He reads:

 

_ Hi my babies, Mariana, Jesus and Francesca, _

 

_ Mama and I miss you all very much.   _

 

_ We have learned so much today only just got started.  We learned that everyone has some privilege and that Mama and I have privilege that you three don’t have because we don’t have disabilities.  We learned that means we need to use our privilege to stand up for you when people are mean. We also learned about ableism and all the different ways it can look. _

 

_ We have read all the answers you guys have sent us.  Thank you so much for sharing with us! We know that took guts and we are proud of you.  We want you to know we are going to widen the options for communication (email, text, call, chat) so that everything goes.  Hopefully that will help you feel like you can come to us with what’s bothering you. _

 

_ How are you Jesus, Mariana and Francesca? _

 

_ We would love to hear from you. _

 

_ Love, _

_ Moms _

 

\--

 

_ RosaMartinez: Heads up.  Your moms might be emailing you + bro + sis.  Don’t worry. My coworker, Pablo (also a speaker here) is right there with them to make sure it is not abusive. _

 

_ NoSecretAnymor: Thanks.  Are they like super pissed? _

 

_ RosaMartinez: No, that would be me.  If they treat you the way I suspect they do?  I am so sorry and I want you to know I will do everything in my power to be sure that they are absorbing what they’re learning here. _

 

_ NoSecretAnymor: Sorry they’re awful to you.  Hope you will still want to meet in person on Wed and talk to them about therapy? _

 

_ RosaMartinez: YES, absolutely.  And tell Francesca that Olivia (basically Francesca’s person.  Advocate. Whatever. Like I am yours.) Anyway, she will be there to help Francesca talk to your moms abt any issues she might want to discuss. _

 

_ NoSecretAnymor: Sounds good.  Thank you so much. _

 

_ RosaMartinez: Mariana, you deserve at least this much.  Talk to you tomorrow. _


	164. Please Keep Loving Me

“So, hey guys?  Earth to Fran and Jesus?” Mariana asks, waving as both of them are hopelessly distracted by  _ Wheel of Fortune _ .

 

“What?  I’m being Cory,” Jesus says confusing Mariana.

 

“Who’s Cory?” Mariana asks.

 

He gestures to the TV, remote still in hand.  “The dude making all the money.”

 

“No,  _ I’m _ Cory!” Fran laughs, a little indignant.  

 

“No way!  You said you wanted to be Krissinda!” Jesus says.

 

“Mariana, do you wanna play?  You can be Jill,” Fran offers generously, gesturing to the player in front of the red backdrop.

 

“Fine, if you don’t wanna hear what Rosa said about Moms...whatever,” Mariana shrugs.

 

“No, no, no.  We do. Jesus, pause it.  Please,” Fran adds.

 

Jesus does, and finally Mariana can hear herself think.  She takes a moment to adjust to the lack of sensory assault and then starts to talk.  “Rosa just DM’d me on Twitter. She said Moms would probably be emailing us...and they did.”

 

The truth is, Mariana’s known the email was in her inbox since the second it arrived two hours ago.  But Mariana was so stressed, and Fran and Jesus were having so much fun that it didn’t seem to make much sense to stress them all out, too.

 

Curiosity is getting the better of her, though, and she knows Jesus and Fran will both be mad if she reads this without them.  Better for her, if Jesus reads it out loud slowly anyway.

 

“How come you didn’t tell us right when you got it?  How come  _ I _ didn’t get it?” Fran wonders, checking her own email.

 

“I still blocked them, buddy,” Jesus says.  

 

Fran makes a face.  “You still should have told us,” Fran pouts.  “I hate you guys knowing and me not knowing.”

 

Mariana sends a pleading look Jesus’s way.  

 

“Buddy, hearing from Moms is stressful, right?  And stress makes it hard for Mariana to talk.”

 

“Oh, yeah,” Fran remembers.  “Sorry, Mari. For thinking you did that on purpose.”

 

Mariana nods.

 

“So, where’s the email?” Jesus asks.

 

“...In your email…” Mariana passes along, confused again.

 

“No, I mean…  What did it say?” Jesus asks.

 

“I didn’t read it, did I?” Mariana asks, affronted.  “Listen to you guys. So upset finding out I didn’t, like, blurt out everything to you the exact second the email got here…  Like I’d do anything else without you.”

 

“Fine, I’ll read it,” Jesus volunteers.

 

“Not silently,” Fran warns.  “Out loud. I want to hear.”

 

“Funny voice, or not?” Jesus checks.  And Mariana remembers Jesus’s habit of reading serious or stressful things in a silly way, to take the edge off.  A habit Mari’s pretty sure Jesus picked up from Callie.

 

“Not,” Fran decides.

 

“Oh, wait,” Mariana interjects.  “Fran, Rosa also said that Olivia...she’s the person there teaching Moms all about CP stuff?  She’ll be there on Wednesday in case you need her to help you talk to Moms about anything.”

 

Fran doesn’t answer right away.  “I’m worried they’re mad about the answers we sent.  What if they’re mad at us?”

 

“Want me to scan it first just to see if they are?” Jesus asks.

 

“She said they had to write it with one of the other speakers right there watching them, to be sure it’s nothing bad,” Mariana assures her.

 

“Oh.  Okay,” Fran says, relieved.

 

“ _ Hi my babies, Mariana, Jesus and Francesca _ ,” Jesus begins, once Mariana and Fran are both on board.

 

Fran screws up her face.  “That does sound like Stef.  But different. Why?”

 

“She used our names…” Mariana realizes.

 

“ _ Mama and I miss you all very much.” _ Jesus continues.

 

“I bet that’s not true,” Fran interrupts again.  “I bet they’re glad to have a break. That’s what they said when we went to the cabin to visit Pearl and Levi, remember?” Fran asks Mari.

 

Mari nods.  It does sound weird.  Them claiming to miss her and Fran.  Jesus, they always miss. That goes without saying. __

 

“ _ We have learned so much today only just got started.  We learned that everyone has some privilege and that Mama and I have privilege that you three don’t have because we don’t have disabilities.  We learned that means we need to use our privilege to stand up for you when people are mean. We also learned about ableism and all the different ways it can look.”   _ Jesus pauses and raises his eyebrows.  

 

“What’s privilege?” Fran asks.

 

“It means...kinda that they recognize they have an advantage over us.  Not having disabilities or trauma or whatever,” Jesus explains. “Just in a factual way, not a mean way.  People don’t judge them the way they judge you and Mari and sometimes me, because Moms aren’t disabled.”

 

A laugh bubbles out of Mariana.  She tries to hold it back because it feels like one of those things that Moms go on and on about.  Inappropriate reactions. But Jesus and Fran are smiling, too.

 

“What?” Jesus asks.

 

“Nothing.  Just...they spent how much money to go to a place to learn they have privilege...when they could just pay attention when we’re out and whatever.”

 

“Ha ha!” Fran laughs.  “They could have known for free!”

 

Jesus is still laughing, too, but he pulls it together when he reads the next line of Moms’ email:

 

“ _ We have read all the answers you guys have sent us.  Thank you so much for sharing with us! We know that took guts and we are proud of you,”  _ Jesus reads. __

 

“ _ Now _ who’s body-snatched?” It’s out of Mariana’s mouth before she can stop it.

 

“Brandon said that on a thing about you,” Fran says absently, before her eyes focus and she seems to realize what she’s said.  Fran claps a hand over her own mouth. “I’m sorry,” she says and the sound is muffled. “I don’t really think you are.”

 

“It’s okay.  I know,” Mariana nods, though her heart does twinge in pain at the memory.

 

“But...like...you feel it, too?” Jesus asks Mari and Fran.  “How weird they’re being?”

 

“Yes!” Mari and Fran chorus.  

 

“They’re being so understanding, it’s like, ‘ _ What _ ?’” Fran asks.

 

“It’s the person.  The one who’s making sure they’re not being terrible,” Mariana realizes.  “He’s there to take all the meanness out, and without it, it just sounds…”

 

“Like, I can’t even recognize them…” Jesus admits.

 

“This is too nice to be real.  Seriously,” Fran points out.

 

“ _ We want you to know we are going to widen the options for communication (email, text, call, chat) so that everything goes,”  _ Jesus reads.

 

“Wait.  No. They always yell at us for texting or emailing!” Fran says, indignant.  “A conversation’s not real or something unless it’s face to face! That’s what they say!”

 

“Buddy, I know.  It’s okay. Can you take a deep breath?  Chill with the yelling?” Jesus asks.

 

“Oh, sorry.  It just happens, I’m sorry,” Fran says in a small voice.

 

“I know.  It’s okay.  Just take a deep breath.  I will, too. And we’ll let it out.  Nice and slow. We all know this email’s mega-weird, but they’re not here.  They’ve still got four more days to learn from those people. So, that’s a good thing.”

 

Mariana’s breathing, too.  But everything Fran has said?  Has been a thought in Mariana’s own head, too.

 

“Can I keep going?  It’s almost done,” Jesus says.

 

Mariana and Fran both nod.

 

“ _ Hopefully that will help you feel like you can come to us with what’s bothering you. _ ”

 

Mariana snorts.  “Fat chance.”

 

“Does that mean there’s a big giant chance?” Fran asks.

 

“No, it means zero chance,” Jesus explains.

 

“Then why isn’t it skinny chance?” Fran asks, smirking.  She snuggles against Mariana. “We can never come to them with what’s bothering us.  Don’t they get that?”

 

Mariana rubs Fran’s back.

 

_ “How are you Jesus, Mariana and Francesca? _

 

_ We would love to hear from you. _

 

_ Love, _

_ Moms,”  _ Jesus finally finishes.

 

\--

 

That email was the weirdest thing Fran ever heard in her whole entire life.  

 

“So, let’s vote,” Jesus says.  “Do we want to write them back?”

 

“I mean, don’t we have to?” Fran asks.  “Won’t it just make them madder if we don’t?”

 

“Well...they’re, like, around people and whatever who can tell them that this kind of thing doesn’t just happen,” Mariana says.  “It takes time. And like Jesus says, they have more days there.”

 

“I’d like to talk to them.  Just to see what they say back,” Jesus shares.  “Mari? Do you want to?”

 

“Kinda...but I don’t think they’ll like my response,” she admits.

 

“I bet I will,” Fran says, feeling sure.  She usually likes Mariana’s responses and agrees with them totally - especially the ones that Moms don’t like.

 

“Fran?  What do you think?  You don’t have to tell them anything you don’t want to.  You don’t have to tell them anything at all.”

 

“Can I just...see what you guys say and then...maybe add something at the end?  Maybe?”

 

“Yeah, that works,” Jesus agrees.  He’s opening up a new email and is about to put Stef and Lena’s addresses in when Mariana stops him so suddenly it makes Fran jump.

 

\--

 

“Sorry,” Mariana apologizes to Fran.  “I just...had an idea…”

 

“What?” Jesus asks.

 

“The NAU has an email address.  We could send our response there instead of to Moms so that we know other people there can see it.  And they can’t like...whatever that nothing happened or we didn’t write them back.”

 

“Like, pretend we were all happy or we did a bunch of stuff wrong?” Fran asks.

 

“Right,” Mari nods.  “Here. Jesus. You wanna use my email?  That way yours can stay secret?” 

 

“My email’s all over my Twitter account. Or it was.  It’s fine. I’ll use mine. Ironically, I trust these people way more than I trust Moms.”

 

Jesus types in the email address Mariana finds, puts  _ ℅ Rosa Martinez.  For: Stef and Lena Adams Foster _ in the subject line, and begins to compose with help from Mari and Fran, who, it turns out, can’t resist jumping in:

 

_ Hey Moms, _

 

_ We are fine, but a little skeptical.  You could have maybe known for free that you had more privilege than us if you listened to us.  If you noticed how people act when we go out. We may not have used the word ableism but we tell you when something hurts us.  You haven’t defended us before. How do we know you really will now? _

 

_ Trust is not as easy as opening communication like it’s a door and expecting we all will walk through.  It’s never been safe to say what’s bothering us. What will happen now if we do? Will you listen? Or tell us everything we should do differently so whatever happened doesn’t happen again?  Or tell us to ignore it? _

 

_ And how are we?  Well… _

 

_ Jesus: I’m skeptical.  Like I said. _

 

_ Mariana: I’m...that, too. _

 

_ Fran: I think your email was too nice to be real. _

 

_ From, Jesus, Mariana and Fran _

 

\--

 

Fran’s heart beats a bunch, bunch, bunch.  Hard and fast. She’s thinking maybe this isn’t such a good idea, but too late, Jesus already sent it.

 

She imagines how mad Stef will be.  Steam coming out of her ears. Fire from her nose and mouth like a dragon.  But that’s just fake imagination. What scares Fran most is her real thoughts: Will Stef arrest them?  Does the nice person there know she’s a cop?

 

And Lena will probably yell and say how hard Fran and Mari (and even Jesus maybe) made their lives.  How much they gave up for them. And is this what they get in return?

 

Fran can hear it in her mind because it’s happened before.  Every time she or Mari tried to speak out about anything.

 

“I’m scared…” Fran whispers, still cuddled against Mari’s side.

 

“I know,” Mari nods.  “But we’ve got you. We’ll protect you.”

 

“And all those people at that workshop?  They have disabilities and trauma just like us,” Jesus says, like that’s supposed to help.

 

“Sounds like they got under Rosa’s skin already,” Mariana comments, still rubbing Fran’s back.

 

“You mean...they might believe us?” Fran asks, feeling a spark of hope inside.

 

“I mean, there’s a good chance.  Yeah,” Mariana kisses Fran on the forehead.

 

And she feels a little better.


	165. Demons

Stef rolls over in bed and groans.  All night, her dreams sent anxiety through her.  Overstuffed cars, with diapers pouring out of the back.  Tiny toddler Jesus and Mariana, wandering down a street alone.  Frankie - Francesca - as she looked after surgery as a three year old, crying whenever anyone touched or moved her.

 

“I can’t do this again,” she croaks in her froggiest morning voice.

 

“What?” Lena asks, already up and getting ready.  “Are you okay?”

 

“Of course, I’m not okay, Lena.  I spent all night dreaming of the kids...in danger that I couldn’t stop.  And millions of diapers pouring out of the back of Mike’s old station wagon.”

 

Lena’s mouth curves upward.

 

“It wasn’t funny,” Stef grumbles.  “They just kept coming, filling the road.  And then, in the distance, I saw them.”

 

“Who?” Lena asks, having sobered herself now.

 

“Jesus and Mariana.  They were babies. Maybe two?  In diapers and little undershirts.  Just walking down the road holding hands.  No shoes. Then the dream switched, and I was in with Francesca while she was recovering from that surgery she had when she was that age?  And she was in so much pain.”

 

Lena tosses Stef some clothes.  “Here. Get dressed. “Those dreams sound awful, love, but you know what that tells me?”

 

“My kids are neglected and I’m overwhelmed,” Stef says flatly.

 

“It tells me you care about their safety,” Lena points out.

 

Stef finally gets out of bed, and finds herself resurrecting an old habit of changing clothes behind their closet door.  Even before cancer, when Stef had been shot at work? Lena was uncomfortable with the scars.

 

“Okay, but do you remember those things we had to fill out?  That damn...questionnaire that delved into every possible aspect of our lives?” Stef asks.

 

“Of course,” Lena nods.

 

“Do you remember the question about disabilities?” Stef presses. She fills the ensuing silence herself.  “Because I do, Lena. We marked yes, but we saw the social workers notes. She didn’t recommend us adopting a child with sp-- significant physical disabilities,” she self corrects.

 

“And?” Lena asks, confused.

 

“And we signed a contract, swearing that we would never use physical punishment on our children.  Broke that,” she says brusquely.

 

“Stef, that’s why we’re doing this,” Lena says.  

 

Stef stays in place behind the closet door even though she’s fully dressed now.  She’s not ready to face Lena yet.

 

“We’re doing this so we can learn how to be there for Mariana and for Francesca..and for Jesus…  So, we can learn how to deal with our own stress in ways that don’t hurt them. Honey, if we adopted a child from an Asian country, we would have made sure that that child had a connection to their culture.  We would have had people in our lives and in that child’s life that they could go to, who understood what it was like to be like them. We have kids with disabilities. All this is...I think...is making sure they have a connection to their culture.”

 

“And making sure we don’t ruin them in the process,” Stef mumbles

 

“This isn’t going to ruin them.  This is going to help. But if we don’t stick it out…” Lena trails off.  “I’m afraid, Stef. What if we lose them forever?”

 

“Seems like we’re well on our way…” Stef remarks dully.  “I didn’t get an email back. Did you?”

 

“No,” Lena shakes her head.  “But give them time. And remember that even if they don’t write back?  We’ll still see them tomorrow.”

 

\--

 

Rosa puts on her glasses and logs into her work email, drinking an espresso.  She clicks through a dozen queries, deleting some, saving others for later. But stops short when she sees Jesus Adams Foster’s email address.  And a message, listing her, Stef and Lena as recipients.

 

Curious now, Rosa clicks it open and reads, her attention caught by a note at the top, for her:

 

_ Hey, this message is for Rosa Martinez.  This is Jesus, Mariana and Francesca Adams Foster.  Our moms just sent us an email and they’re at the workshop thing with you. _

 

_ We wanted to send this to you so that our moms don’t respond without you guys for backup.  We want you (and the rest of our team - Olivia? Pablo?) to know exactly what we said, so moms can’t say otherwise. _

 

_ Also, we’re sorry for whatever you guys (our team especially) have had to deal with from them.  Thank you for everything. We are really, so super glad you are there. Don’t know where we’d be without you. _

 

_ See you Wednesday. _

 

_ Love, _

_ Mariana, Francesca and Jesus _

 

Rosa lets out a breath and scans the rest of the email - the message Mariana, Jesus and Francesca wrote for their parents.

 

The difference in tone strikes Rosa immediately.

 

She glances up as the door swings open and Olivia walks in, followed by Pablo a few minutes later.

 

“Look at you.  Here at 7:30 AM,” Rosa says, impressed.  

 

“Let me get my cappuccino and then I’ll talk to you,” Olivia insists.  She goes and places her usual order with Robyn, who, in addition to being a stellar speaker on disability representation, has a way with coffee.

 

Rosa overhears Robyn tell her: “I put an O in the foam for you.  It’s under the lid.”

 

“Thanks.  I always love a good cappuccin- _ o _ ,” Olivia jokes, stressing the last letter for emphasis.

 

Robyn laughs and Rosa can’t resist it either.  

 

Pablo’s not hungry today, but he gets tea.  Rosa knows that his meds alter the way food tastes.

 

“You sure you don’t want a biscotti?” Olivia asks.

 

Pablo hesitates for just long enough that they know he does.  

 

“Robyn, can we get a biscotti please?” Olivia calls.

 

“One biscotti for Pablo, coming right up!” Robyn says and presents it in moments.

 

“Thank you,” Pablo nods.

 

“What’s up?  What do we need to discuss?” Olivia asks, sipping her drink.

 

“Well, we heard back…” Rosa says, turning her laptop. “...from all...of Stef’s babies…” Rosa says a spark of humor in her eyes.  But then she softens. Waits for them to read.

 

“Anyone else get the sense we’re just barely seeing the tip of the iceberg with this family?” Olivia says quietly.  “I mean, look at the lengths they’re going to, just to be sure we’re aware of absolutely everything they say.”

 

“And so that moms can’t respond without us...and I think we have an idea of what that could look like…” Pablo nods, somber.

 

“Like, look at this difference.  In their email to us, they’re warm.  Apologetic. Eager to see us. And then down here?” Rosa scrolls to show the email to Stef and Lena.

 

“Right.  They’re distant,” Pablo notes.

 

“So guarded, yeah,” Olivia nods.  “But it makes sense.”

 

“Oh, it totally makes sense,” Rosa nods.  “I’m just saying, it’s notable. They make a point of saying their trust isn’t easily gained.  But they do seem to trust us. So, let’s not damage that trust. These three have been through stuff we can’t imagine...and some we can.  So, do not discuss them with others, even other speakers.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Robyn pipes up from behind the counter a few feet away.  “I won’t talk about them. I know about HIPAA!”

 

“Thanks, Robyn,” Rosa nods.  “All the same,” she says, turning back to Pablo and Olivia.  “I feel like it wouldn’t be a bad idea to call? Check in with them?  I have Mariana’s number and we could just say hey. Let them know we got their email?”

 

“Break room?” Olivia asks.

 

“Break room, it is,” Rosa nods.  

 

They walk to one of the rooms designated for staff breaks.  Fluorescent lighting is off most of the time, and tiny fairy lights dot the perimeter.  A table and chairs is in one corner. Rosa knows the cabinets are stocked with food. The mini fridge has tons of bottled water.  Drawers are full of soft stuffed animals and other sensory toys. A fabric swing hangs in another corner and a giant beanbag in another.

 

Rosa makes sure the door is closed behind them, and that the sign on the knob is turned to red, which means occupied.  Not green, which they all know means come in.

 

Olivia swings by the stuffed animal toy drawers and comes back with three soft stuffed ducks.  Rosa recognizes them as Huey, Dewey and Louie, Scrooge McDuck’s grandnephews. They’re soft and cute, and perfect for cuddling.  Olivia keeps Louie for herself. Hands Pablo Dewey. And that means Rosa’s got Huey. God, even in the half-dark they’re adorable, and sweet as hell.

 

“So, everyone have their comfort item?” Rosa asks.  

 

Once she’s gotten an affirmative from everyone, and double checked that all three of them are okay with calling to speak to the Adams Foster kids, Rosa makes the call (having added Mariana’s cell phone number, which was given “just in case” Rosa should need it.)

 

The phone rings.  And rings. And rings.  They’re set to leave a message when:

 

“Hello?” a small voice answers.

 

“Hi.  Who is this?” Rosa asks, attempting to soften the natural edge to her own voice.

 

“Who is  _ this _ ?” the small voice challenges, sounding braver now.

 

“This is Rosa,” Rosa says and the phone drops with a thunk.  (The sound - with the call being on speaker phone and all - is ungodly.  Loud and hellish.)

 

She can’t make out what else is being said but soon, a new voice is on the line.  Older. Female.  

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hi, this is Rosa from the workshop.  Is this Mariana?” Rosa asks.

 

“Yeah.  Yeah it is, sorry.  Fran just…” Mariana stutters.

 

“It’s okay.  Listen. Is Jesus there as well?” Rosa asks.

 

“Mm-hmm,” Mariana nods.

 

“Well, I’ve got Olivia and Pablo here with me.  The whole team. We just wanted to check in with you guys.  If it’s okay, go ahead and put us on speaker.”

 

More muffled noise as Mariana talks to Fran and Jesus, and then, “There.  You’re on speaker.”

 

“I wanted to let all of you know, my name is Rosa.  And I got your email for your moms. Your team of people are here with me right now, and we all read it.”

 

“Hi, I’m Olivia.  Francesca, are you there?” Olivia asks.

 

“Yes…” There’s the small voice again.  Francesca sounds timid.

 

“Guess what?  Lena told me that you and I walk just alike,” Olivia says.

 

“Really?  I met one kid with CP before.  He has crutches and more scars than me.”

 

“Ooh.  What color crutches?” Olivia asks.

 

“Lime green,” Francesca says.  Rosa can hear her smiling.

 

“Very cool,” Olivia nods.

 

“Hey, Jesus.  My name is Pablo.  I helped your moms out with that email they sent.”

 

“Hey,” Jesus responds.  “Thanks.”

 

“We were wondering why it sounded so weird,” Francesca points out.

 

“It’s Rosa again.  We understand that trusting parents is hard, especially when they don’t understand us.  We want you to know that we’re all on your side, and we want to help.”

 

“Are you gonna make sure they don’t get mad at us?” Francesca asks, sounding scared.  “I’m really scared they’re going to be mad because of what we said.”

 

“Yes,” Olivia says, projecting an admirable calm.  “We’ll make sure.”

 

“Mariana?” Rosa asks.  “Did you need to add something?”

 

“Therapy?” Mariana asks.

 

It takes Rosa a few seconds to remember that Mariana has needed to talk to her moms about this.  That Rosa has promised to help. “Yup. We can still talk to them about therapy.”

 

“Can you talk to them about not saying mean things?” Fran asks.

 

“Absolutely,” Olivia nods.

 

“Listen, thanks so much for the call.  We really appreciate it,” Jesus says. “But Fran and I have to get going.  She has school.”

 

“Sixth grade.  Yuck,” Fran calls.

 

“Well, you do your best today and tomorrow, and then you get to come and meet us.  How does that sound?” Olivia asks.

 

“Good,” Fran manages, shy again.

 

“Alright, well, we will talk to you later, Jesus, okay?” Pablo asks.  “Looking forward to meeting you.”

 

“You, too.” Jesus says.

 

There’s a click and then Mariana’s voice.  “Just me now. So...thank you. First. And then, like...could you...talk to Lena?  About making sure Fran can use the bathroom and whatever at school?”

 

“I thought about sitting down with Fran and Lena both,” Olivia offers.  “To discuss it. But you think it’s better if it’s just a thing Lena and I discuss?” 

 

“Mm-hmm,” Mariana nods.  “Fran...she...feels like she’s in trouble a lot.  Especially if there are more adults than there are kids.”

 

“Ah.  So if I can get Lena to alter the bathroom policy so that Francesca’s allowed to go as needed, that would be better than including her in a conversation about something embarrassing.”

 

“Mm-hmm,” Mariana manages.

 

“Well, Mariana, thanks so much for talking to us.  We apologize for the early call,” Rosa says. “And no thanks are necessary.  We’re happy to do what we can.”

 

“Talk to you later,” Mariana says.

 

“If you need me, call, text, DM me, whatever,” Rosa says, taking the phone off speaker.  “I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. I’ll be working here until 5 PM, but you can expect a message back sometime in the evenings.”

 

“Sounds good,” Mariana responds.

 

Finally, Rosa can bring herself to hang up.

 

“Sweet little one there,” Pablo observes.

 

“Yeah, I know,” Olivia nods.  “I have a little sense of how rough things are for her right now and I just wanna help.”

 

“Me, too.” Pablo nods.  “Jesus didn’t say much. But I guess I wouldn’t either, with his history.  Hey, do you think we should give them a heads up about coming in the back way if they want?  Avoiding all the parent crowd, if possible. And maybe we can use break rooms for the talks between parents and kids?  So they don’t have to be in the big room in front of everyone?”

 

Rosa rushes to jot down notes.  “That...is brilliant. I’ll make a note of it and we can be sure to pass that onto them.  For now, though, we should get ready. Nira Santanos has the first morning session, and I don’t wanna miss it.”

 

“I love Nira’s sessions,” Olivia gushes.

 

“Me, too,” Pablo agrees.  

 

They stand to leave, and Pablo gathers their ducks and puts them safely away.  

 

Rosa walks to the door and flips the sign to the green side, leaving the door ajar, for whomever might need the space next.


	166. Lie

Lena’s a bit more used to the sea of blue parking spaces on the second day, though Stef still finds their presence deeply unfair.

 

“Seriously.  I’ve never seen so many.  We all know there are more of us than there are of them.  It’s just ridiculous. Not everything is  _ for _ them!”

 

“Honey, there are still enough spots for all of us,” Lena tries to reason.  “Imagine if there were the usual amount of spots. There would be all the extra regular ones and not nearly enough for them.”

 

Stef grumbles some more.  

 

Lena is more than a little surprised to be met just inside the door by Rosa. 

 

“Hey.  Do you two have any plans?” she asks.

 

“Any particular time?” Stef wonders.  (Lena knows she’s still prickly from her nightmare this morning.)

 

“This afternoon.  Processing and questions,” Rosa asks.  “You’ll wanna stay today. Trust me.”

 

Before Lena knows it, Rosa’s disappeared into the main room where they all gather.  She’s glad to have brought her own coffee - at least one round of it. Their cafe here is expensive, and it still makes her more uneasy than she cares to mention to place her order and hope to whatever’s out there that the barista with Down Syndrome fills the order right.

 

Stef’s scoffing at the schedule just outside the main doors.  “Gaslighting. Sounds like something Jude and his buddies would do for fun…” she says.

 

“I’ve never heard of it either, but I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.  It’s almost 9:00,” Lena says and they walk in together.

 

\--

 

Nira’s checked with them.  All the other speakers, even those who aren’t minors, to warn them.  But she can’t find Jonah. She knows Theo isn’t here today. Neither are Corbin and Dia, the two youngest.  But Jonah. He likes to stay the entire time, even for sessions that aren’t his own.

 

The carpet muffles Nira’s red vintage heels.  Her tongue finds the roof of her mouth by chance.   _ Click click click. _

 

“Sweetheart?”  Ocean. Good. God.

 

“Roman.  What?” she asks.

 

The name is gone.  Along with almost all her words.  Being late will undo her. Even though Rosa has assured her that everything will be alright.

 

“I can help?” he offers.

 

She relaxes infinitesimally.  It allows the hum to escape. It’s the sound of the boy in his chair.  She scans while she does this.

 

“Looking for someone?” Roman again now.

 

“Looking for someone, yes.” she nods.

 

Anxiety climbs her from the inside.  Choking mildew smells snaking.

 

And like a miracle, he’s there.  Nearly running over her toes.  

 

“Hey, Nira, sorry!” he apologizes.

 

“Stop!” she calls out abruptly.

 

He does, looking bewildered.  “Did I hurt you?”

 

“No, no.  No. I mean… Five minutes late…” Nira manages.

 

Jonah checks his phone.  “You mean early?”

 

“I can help,” Roman offers again, soft.

 

Nira nods.

 

“Hi, I’m Roman.  Nice to meet you,” he introduces.

 

“Jonah.”

 

“I’m Nira’s dad.  And I’m a little biased, so I think her session’s gonna be the best she’s given yet.  But she’s got something a little intense planned for the first five minutes. So she wants you to know.  She wouldn’t be offended if you came five minutes late.”

 

“Have to go,” Nira insists.

 

“Okay.  Thanks, Nira.  I’ll just drink my coffee outside with my mom,” Jonah says.

 

“You’re welcome,” she answers, clipped.  

 

Nira hurries inside, relaxing again as the sound of Roman’s footsteps behind soothe her.  As the whir of Jonah retreating to safety registers.

 

She checks again.

 

Three minutes to spare.

 

Nira smiles.  Feels for the smooth stones in her pocket.  Hears them meet each other:

 

All still friends.

 

_ Click, click, click _ .

 

\--

 

This speech is like slipping on someone else’s double-breasted suit jacket.  Finding someone else’s life in the pockets. It fits well. Something that she knows she’ll get dozens of compliments on even as the seams on the inside dig into her flesh.  The tag at the back of her neck scratches her mercilessly.

 

She can give this speech perfectly.  But chances are that no one will see what it’s costing her in terms of energy.  Effort. To string words together in long groups. So they’ll make sense.

 

This, at least, Nira’s confident in.  Roman has a way with words. And he’s checked and rechecked and asked and edited her speech until it said exactly what she wanted it to.  But was also understandable and accessible to neurotypical parents.

 

(She had a parent right at home.  Why wouldn’t she ask him for advice?)

 

The red square numbers on the clock over the door flip from 8:59 to 9:00 and Nira knows.  This is the moment.

 

She clears her throat:

 

“Excuse me?” she asks, focusing her attention on the garish blue travel mug beside a woman’s brown leather shoes.  Her eyes flick up far enough to read the name on the sticker identifying the woman: 

 

“Lena?” Nira asks.

 

“I’m sorry?  What?” (Just as planned.  Good.)

 

“We don’t allow beverages in here,” Nira says.

 

Nira can hear every noise.  Shuffling. Every indignant whisper.

 

“According to whom?” The woman next to her speaks up.  (Stef. Must be.)

 

“The notice.  Outside. It was very clear,” Nira says.

 

“There’s no notice,” Stef grumbles.

 

“It’s right outside.”  A new voice. One of their speakers.  A friend, Machelle, speaks up right on cue.  “It’s obvious.”

 

“You’d think people would have a little consideration…” Nira remarks.

 

Lena doesn’t move.  She doesn’t seem to know what to do.  

 

“My name is Nira Santanos and I’m going to be talking to you about--” she stops abruptly.  “Who’s crunching?”

 

A hand slowly raises.  An embarrassed father, with a loud wrapper clutched in his fist.

 

“You should have eaten before you came. Can nobody read the signs?” Nira snaps.

 

\--

 

Lena’s cheeks are hot.  She’s tried stowing her coffee in her purse and holding it, but that will only succeed in getting the entire contents of the bag drenched unless she constantly steadies it.

 

By now, Nira has gone on with her speech, as if nothing was amiss.  Except that Lena and the dad who was eating a granola bar that no one but the speaker could even hear are so beyond embarrassed.

 

“Today’s topic is…” Nira says, when suddenly the dad with the granola bar speaks up.

 

“So, you’re just...gonna go on, then?  After snapping at me and that woman over there?” he asks, and Lena’s glad to have someone on her side.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nira maintains.

 

“Yesterday, we were all free to eat and drink in here,” the man maintains.  “There are no signs.”

 

“Wow, you must have a lot pent up...to be accusing me of completely fabricated statements.  I said no such thing,” Nira maintains.

 

“Let’s get out of here,” Stef says.  She and Lena are standing, with several other parents when the man in the audience speaks again, surprising them:

 

“Hold on.  Hold on, please.  Everyone. Stop moving,” he says finally.  “Before you all decide to leave in protest, you should know that my name is Roman Santanos.  And in front of us? That is my daughter. Nira Santanos. We were just giving you a bit of an example is all.  They’re all yours,” he says.

 

Slowly, Lena, Stef and the rest, sit back down.

 

\--

 

“I’m here to speak to you today about gaslighting.  Now, what is gaslighting? The term comes from a movie made nearly a century ago, where a husband tries to make his own wife doubt her sanity by gradually dimming their gas-powered lights.  When she mentions the change, he says he doesn’t notice anything different at all.”

 

“Gaslighting is very common in the disabled community.  Being around majority nondisabled people, we are often told that our symptoms are not real by the medical community.  Or that we can do things we cannot, by the educational community. When we’re harmed, sometimes by those who are supposed to love us the most, they deny this harm, making us doubt our own thoughts, our ability to trust ourselves, even our own sanity.”

 

She talks them through the various kinds of responses gaslighters can employ.  But really, it all boils down to dismissing the person’s experiences and attempting to silence them.

 

(Mildew smell and leaking pipes.  Folded in the tiny space beneath the sink.  Where they found her. When she had no words.)

 

“Gaslighting...has impacted me...a great deal.”  Pause. (Nira, gather yourself. Please. Ocean said, “It’s okay.”

 

He doesn’t lie.)

 

She finds his forehead in the audience.  Dark hair on top. Dark eyebrows beneath.  And eyes as blue as the ocean she hoped to always find.  Like the ocean in the story that always calmed her as a child.

 

Her eyes flicker down to his hand.

 

One.  Two. Three.

 

( _ I.  Love.  You. _ )

 

“I was eight and words were not easy.  Pictures were easier. So I drew. My dad found me...drawing on the walls of his very expensive house…”

 

A light wave of laughter laps Nira’s feet.

 

“He said _ , ‘Oh, Nira.  You can’t draw on walls.  You need something, you tell me, ‘kay _ ?’  He took my crayons and said, ‘ _ Use your words here, remember _ ?’”

 

“I remembered he told me that often.  But the words weren’t always available.  Especially not at first. With doctors claiming I was slow.  Without ever diagnosing me, so I would know where I fit. My words were in the picture,” Nira explains.

 

“Wait.  So, it was in code?” a parent speaks up.

 

Nira flinches.  She hates sudden noises, stabbing her ears.

 

“And why do all of you think it’s fine to just dump all over your parents who raised you?” another voice.  Nira breathes. Her hand finds her pocket. Her three smooth stones.

 

They help.

 

“Excuse me?”  

 

Tension melts away as Ocean stands.  

 

“May I say something?” he asks.

 

“Say something,” she nods.  Feeling her own body more and more.  Inch by blessed inch.

 

“Nira is absolutely right to share whatever she chooses.  This is her life. She’s an adult.” Nira loves the sound of his voice.  More than any other voice. His soothes her. It’s home. “Yes, I make mistakes. I have hurt Nira before, unintentionally, and I hate that.  But I learned. And I always listen.”

 

Nira nods.  He does. In fact, he knows her so very well that it’s his instinct to help her make sense of the angry question from the audience.  The first one. Not the second.  

 

“Sweetheart?  Nira? Were there words hidden in your picture?” Roman asks.

 

(“Na,” an old word for “no” is very nearly out of her mouth, before Nira self-corrects, thinking of the suit jacket.)  

 

“No,” Nira answers, thinking of the rows of orange fish she crayoned on the wall.  “There were no hidden words. The pictures  _ were  _ my words.  I was communicating with what I had available to me at the time,” Nira explains, her words feeling like someone else’s.

 

The memories swell, like so many waves, and Nira remembers times when she was punished for not speaking.  Or speaking wrong. When she finally could tell Roman, he put a stop to it.

 

But they denied.  They all denied.

 

This, she will not talk about here.  It’s her choice. To share or not.  

 

“I’m very sorry, Lena,” Nira apologizes, before wrapping up.  “You’re welcome to have beverages here. I’m sorry, Roman,” she says.  “I only have one question for you, so please take your time and answer it thoroughly.”

 

\--

 

Lena gulps and finally gets up the courage to glance at the screen behind Nira, showing their single question.  She finds herself oddly relieved that there doesn’t seem to be any responses from the kids to contend with today:

 

**_Think of an instance with your child(ren).  Have they told you something you’ve said / done has harmed them? What happened?  How could you respond in a way that affirmed their experience of you?_ **

Lena writes, _ Francesca failed a math test once and instead of listening to her tell me, leading up to the test, that math was extra hard for her because of CP, I dismissed her.  I said it wasn’t hard, she just wasn’t concentrating. When she failed the test, I grounded her. _

 

_ She tried to tell me later that she didn’t like that I didn’t believe her and only ungrounded her when I heard the same from Jesus. (Math being a CP thing) but I just denied the whole thing.  I said I had no idea what she was talking about. _

 

_ A better way to look at it might’ve been as feedback.  Francesca was giving me feedback about how my handling of the situation made her feel.  And before that, she was giving me information. I could have sat down with her, and asked more questions.  Maybe gotten her a tutor earlier instead of grounding her. _

 

**_Think of an instance with your child(ren).  Have they told you something you’ve said / done has harmed them? What happened?  How could you respond in a way that affirmed their experience of you?_ **

Stef writes: _ Fran told me a few months ago that she did not feel that I was a safe person.  I responded by calling her out on it in front of the whole family. I suppose I could have asked her what she meant by that and how she would feel safer in my presence. _


	167. Life on the Moon

“I think this break is my favorite,” Stef sighs.  “It’s just such a relief to be out of there. I seriously almost left when she started hassling you about your coffee.  Hello? Everybody in there had beverages…”

 

“On the plus side,” Lena offers, (and Stef can’t believe Lena can always find a plus side) “I’m not going to forget what gaslighting is.”

 

“I’m still confused as hell,” Stef admits.  “How can we have done something to the kids if we didn’t even know it was a thing, with a name?”

 

“Even if we didn’t know its name...we knew it was wrong,” Lena points out softly.

 

“I just can’t help but feel like every single example we hear...every single story one of them tells...is a message for us.  Because we’re awful. It’s only day two and I don’t know if I can do this. Even writing the kids that email felt so foreign, Lena…” Stef insists.  “Wait. Oh my God.” She darts behind a tree.

 

“What?” Lena asks.

 

“Get back here,” Stef hisses.

 

Lena slides casually around the back of a tree, her skirt still billowing in the breeze around the trunk.  She could never be a cop. “Stef. What?” she asks.

 

“ _ Roman Santanos _ !” Stef exclaims in a harsh whisper, pointing him out.  He’s got sunglasses on. Probably to cut down on his recognizability.  Most of these parents will have no idea who he is. But Stef has heard his name come up countless times at work.  “He’s a freaking millionaire, Lena! I remember looking it up before we came. He funded this thing. Bought the building and renovated.  He’s responsible for the thousand blue parking spaces outside!”

 

“He also covers ad and operating costs, plus coffee shop and break room supplies,” Stef jumps as Roman’s voice startles her, from inches away.  “Nice tree, by the way.”

 

“You know, I never would have guessed you had a daughter like...like Nira…” Stef manages.

 

“Well, why would you?” Roman asks.  “She’s pretty private, with the exception of the workshop here.”

 

“Ah,” Lena answers.  “So, I have to admit, for a second, I thought you were on my side in there.  Just another parent being attacked for the crime of eating in public…” 

 

“Yeah, we knew that was a risk, but Nira felt it was important to really drive the point home with something relatable.”  Roman’s watch beeps.  

 

Stef watches as he casually pops pills and chases them with water.

 

“Headache?” Lena asks.

 

“Something like that…” Roman allows.  

 

“Listen, I know you’re probably out here on a break just like all the other parents, but can I ask you?”

 

“You can always ask,” he allows, and Lena gets the distinct impression he is holding something back.

 

“So far…  There’s been a lot of...let’s call it feedback,” Lena decides.  “Some from our kids. Some from the speakers. Et cetera. And you were just...kind of unflappable, in the face of that very public example Nira gave.  I’d be mortified.”

 

“Well, I was,” Roman agrees.  “Nira’s been telling me her feelings about my reaction when she drew on the wall for about twenty years now.  And the first time she shared this with other parents, I  _ was _ embarrassed.  But...past the embarrassment about how the story might reflect on me?  I was more upset that I mistreated my daughter...when she was just trying to ask me for food.”

 

“Well...it’s not like you did it on purpose…” Stef allows.  

 

“Intent doesn’t matter, though.  Impact does. It’s true, I never raised my voice at her.  I never called her names. But what I said to her profoundly hurt her.  I ignored her communication and insisted that she do so on my level. When...God...she must spend...90% of her days, some days...communicating on other people’s terms.  Home is where she should feel safest.”

 

“But...how?” Lena presses.  “How can you take in what she says?  I mean, doesn’t it all just feel like criticism?”

 

“It can be hard, when you’re first starting out.  I remember when I first had Nira, I made hundreds of mistakes.  And when she started being able to tell me about them, I wished I couldn’t understand her.  But I did. A big help for me was that Nira was not my only exposure to disabled people. I grew up around them.  Sought them out. Made friends with them, not just as potential resources but as human beings.”

 

“But we have three,” Stef objects.  “Three kids with disabilities. And somehow it feels like we’re failing them all.”  (She doesn’t know where it comes from - this ability to just open up and admit these things.)

 

“So, you start somewhere.  You  _ have _ started.  You’re here.  Now, I’ve learned a lot over the years with my family.  My friends. But these workshops? I learn more, faster, about what it’s like to be disabled than at any other time during the year.  Being able to take it in when your kids say you’ve harmed them? To apologize to them? And mean it? That will help your relationship more than any session,” Roman stretches and stands.

 

“Thank you,” Stef says, even though she can’t imagine doing what Roman suggests.  She’d be apologizing for the rest of her life.

 

“Think of it as vital info your kids are giving you that’s going to help make you better parents.  When they tell us things like this? It’s secret intel. They’re trusting both of you with their hearts.”  Roman starts to walk away. Turns back. “Will they mess up? Yeah, they will. But if they tell you it’s a disability thing, don’t turn that into a discipline thing.  Listen. And take note.”

 

Stef and Lena wave.

 

“Secret intel,” Stef mouths to Lena.

 

“I know,” Lena mouths back.  She takes out her phone and Stef knows she’s doing her best to remember and jot down every single bit of Roman’s wisdom.

 

“Okay.  Now I’m getting excited to see the kids,” Stef admits.

 

“Hey, Stef and Lena,” Pablo greets, startling them.

 

“Hey.  No Rosa or Olivia?” Stef asks, giving Lena time to finish typing.

 

“They have sessions coming up today.  They wanna review for those. So I offered to touch base with you guys.  So, how was the gaslighting session?”

 

“Eye-opening,” Lena nods.  “Stef and I were surprised to see we both came up with instances where we gaslit our youngest.”

 

“That is interesting,” Pablo nods.  Lena her journal across to him and Stef follows suit.  “I like this insight,” he says and smiles. “Very self aware.”

 

“But…?” Stef asks.

 

“But, what?” Pablo returns, confused.

 

“Come on.  Don’t stop there.  Give us the secret intel,” Stef tries.

 

Pablo laughs and it might be the single best sound Stef and Lena have heard since they’ve been here.  “I thought I saw you both talking to Roman. Now I know he was here. Okay. Here is the secret intel.  Ready? Have you considered the possibility that you may have gaslit your twins, too? Maybe you could think on that?”

 

There’s silence while Pablo just sits with them.  Stef has hit a wall with her thoughts. Her gut is roiling.  She’s been unsettled since yesterday, getting the feeling that there’s a lot with regard to Mariana that Stef’s just not ready to face.

 

Stuff that’s not Mariana’s fault.

 

“Sometimes, when he didn’t want to go out, I’d tell him danger was all in the past…” Lena confesses.  “Even though I knew he had every reason to be afraid.”

 

“Your son?” Pablo asks gently.

 

“Yes,” Lena nods.

 

“So, what do you think you could do differently?  If the issue ever came up again?” Pablo asks.

 

“I don’t know.  He’s 23. He lives on his own.  It’s not like we go many places together anymore,” Lena objects lightly.  “It was getting so he wouldn’t want to leave the house. And sometimes? We had to leave the house.”

 

“Right.  So, this is good.  Imagine he’s sitting right here with us.  At whatever age. Say we have all the time.  Say nobody’s stressed. Say we’ve got nowhere to be.  What do you say?” Pablo prompts.

 

“That’s unrealistic,” Stef interjects.  “We had six kids at home back then. We were all always stressed.  Always had somewhere to be.”

 

“But he needed your time,” Pablo urges softly.  “Don’t you see?”  

 

“We’re two people.  We can’t split ourselves six ways,” Lena objects again.

 

“No, but you can say to your son: “Buddy, I know you’re scared to go outside.  Or go wherever. I know scary thing happened to you. But we’re going together, and we have a plan to keep everybody safe,” Pablo suggests.

 

“We’d done that before,” Stef points out.  “He knew.”

 

“Maybe he didn’t know if he’s scared to go out again.  Maybe he needed to hear from you that the plan’s still unchanged.  You protecting him is unchanged. Meet him where he is. Validate his feelings.  Whenever you can. As often as you can.” Pablo goes quiet.

 

“Everytime I even try to start thinking about Mariana it’s like...I can’t…” Stef manages.

 

“Why?” Pablo asks.

 

Stef shrugs, helpless.

 

“She ever say to you, ‘Mom, I can’t?’” Pablo checks gently.

 

The memory of the night in the kitchen.  Following Mariana upstairs and trying to make her say  _ dishcloth _ rises.  Why had that been so damn important?

 

“Not in so many words.  She said  _ leave _ .  She said  _ stop _ ,” Stef remembers.

 

“Did you?” Pablo wonders.

 

Stef shakes her head.  “I kept pushing. Then, I punished her.”  It sounds uncomfortably like what Roman described with Nira.  Except Stef  _ had _ raised her voice.  Criticized her. Belittled her.  And even taken away her pillow.

 

God, what had she been thinking?

 

“What could you have done differently?” Pablo presses.

 

“Listened to what she was telling me.  Apologized for pushing too hard. I could have given her space.  But all we’ve been told, Pablo, is about this window of time that she has to get better.  And I know Rosa would probably say that’s not a thing, because brain injuries last forever, but doctors and therapists?  They can’t all be wrong, can they? I mean, look at Rosa!”

 

“I think…” Pablo starts hesitantly, “You should listen to Rosa this afternoon.  Maybe talk to her after. This is her area of expertise and I don’t want to lead you both wrong.  But very good work today. Keep seeking out all the secret intel. Also, Olivia’s talking about CP next, and it’s gonna be so good.”

 

“Thanks Pablo,” Stef says, clearing her throat and sending him a wave.

 

“Hey...are you okay?  What’s this moment you talked about with Mariana?  I don’t remember it?” Lena mentions, once they’re alone again.

 

“Oh, it was last fall or something.  I think you were downstairs in the kitchen with Francesca.  I don’t wanna talk about it, Lena. I just feel like all these things?  They’re going to eat me alive. I can’t feel this guilty.”

 

“It’s good to feel guilty, love.  This is probably the first time we’ve been held accountable something in…”

 

“Don’t say how long it’s been,” Stef begs with the hint of a smile.

 

“In a while,” Lena decides, smiling back and leaning against her.  “We forget about the crappy feelings we had as kids. Being in trouble for something and feeling so bad for that one week you’re grounded.  Where you have to think about how you’re going to do better, but it all feels like so much.”

 

“Sounds about right,” Stef sighs.  “Wait. A week? You only got grounded for a week?  For what?”

 

“B’s,” Lena says matter of factly.

 

“Bees,” Stef says, misunderstanding. “You let them in the house or something?”

 

“No, the letter grade.  My parents knew I was capable of A’s.  So I got grounded for anything less. Also, for mouthing off to my mom.”

 

“Well, now we’ve mouthed off to our kids...and worse…” Stef admits.

 

“But this is much better than being grounded, because we’re learning,” Lena glances around.  Then kisses Stef lightly, right on the lips.

 

“Right,” Stef kisses her back.  “Hey, you’re not planning to stay again today, are you?  The drive home in rush hour was hell.”

 

“But Rosa was all cryptic this morning,” Lena says, her eyes shining.  “What if it’s more secret intel?!”

 

“You always know how to get me with the secret intel…” Stef admits, kissing Lena again.

 

“Okay.  We’d better go back in.  Can you take notes during Olivia’s session on CP?  My thumbs are seriously sore. And I want to show Francesca some of what we learned.”

 

“I don’t have to write down everything, do I?” Stef asks, wary.

 

“No.  Just key points,” Lena reassures.

 

“Anything for you, my love,” Stef says, and they walk back inside together.


	168. Scars To Your Beautiful

Lena is probably the most excited for Olivia’s session on CP.  Out of all the sessions, Cerebral Palsy is the thing Lena feels she knows the most about.  She’s had ten years of living with it, through Fran, and that alone has taught her a lot.

 

“Is it just me, or has this crowd thinned out a lot?” a nervous voice asks from the front of the room.  Lena focuses her attention up front. Is surprised to see Olivia, seated in a chair in front of them. Lena and Stef have seen her up walking.  Lena figured that she’d stand like most of the rest of the speakers thus far have.

 

A smattering of laughter can be heard.

 

“Just kidding.  Most of you know by now that there are bigger sessions on more universal topics, and there are smaller ones, like this.  Seminars that focus on a particular disability.” Olivia takes a deep breath. Her voice sounds shaky. Deeper.  

 

Lena wonders what’s wrong with her.

 

“So, while you guys are here to learn about CP, there are other sessions happening at staggered times, in case you have multiple kids.  Or...I mean...a kid with more than one disability. I am so nervous right now. Like I said, this is a smaller session. Because I...am of smaller courage.  Clearly.”

 

“No, you’re not!” a voice that sounds familiar calls out.  A glance over her shoulder tells Lena her gut’s right. Pablo has taken it upon himself to encourage her.  “You’ve got this. Just talk to me, alright?”

 

“Sorry...That’s Pablo, for those of you who don’t know,” Olivia passes along, smiling.

 

Lena settles in, ready to listen.

 

“What are you gonna share with us about CP?  Obvious things? Or not so much?” Pablo asks.

 

It looks like Olivia lets out a huge breath and relaxes a bit.  “Well, I figure, since most of you have a child with CP, you probably know about the obvious things already.  All it takes is a basic Google search to tell you that it either comes about from abnormal brain development or brain damage before or shortly after birth.  Google also says it’s the commonest disability in childhood. But I have news for you…” Here, Olivia offers a smile, and Lena’s stunned to see the strong resemblance to Fran, in the way Olivia’s grin is slightly crooked.

 

Lena raises her eyebrows at Stef.

 

“I’m 27...and I still have CP.  When I was a kid, people used to correctly guess my disability all the time.  Now...it’s like...they play charades based on my gait and what they know based on adult disabilities.  Do I have MS? Did I have a stroke? Or, my personal favorite: Was I in a skiing accident?”

 

Lena laughs.

 

“You guys are out there laughing because you’re probably thinking how improbable it is that someone with CP could have ever gone skiing.  But you would be wrong. Before I moved out here, I lived up north, as we say. Where the middle school kids take ski trips. All of them.  I barely made it up the bunny hill. And as a teenager, my parents may have taken me skiing again. I don’t recommend this.”

 

Lena looks at Stef, incredulous.

 

“I know.  All the skiing talk and you’re thinking, ‘It’s pretty incredible she _ didn’t  _ have a skiing accident!’  I know, right? I’m in shock, too.” Olivia says.  “Okay. I think I’m calmer now. Thanks for your patience.  All I needed was a self-depricating joke and I’m ready to do this.” Olivia grins.

 

Lena can’t help but smile, too.  Olivia just has something about her that attracts people.  She’s gentle and kind, and she just...has a goodness about her.  Lena could see herself staying in touch with Olivia long after the workshop ends...assuming Olivia wanted to.

 

“Since you guys all know a lot about the more obvious aspects of CP, I wanted to talk about those less discussed.  Like the notion that CP is a childhood disability. There are a lot of aspects to this disability that go unnoticed or get attributed to willful disobedience or inattention,” Olivia explains.

 

“The most common type of CP is spastic.  That’s the kind I have. It just means I have higher muscle tone on the right side of my body.  So muscles feel extra tight. Did you know, though, that there are a lot of outside factors that can impact spasticity and make it even more pronounced?”

 

“Like what?” a parent in the audience asks.

 

“Like cold.  Hence why nonadaptive skiing isn’t recommended for those of us with CP.  I know it’s hard to notice here, but anybody ever live where it’s cold? Where it snows in winter?  Do you know that feeling where your muscles tense up? Where you kinda brace yourself for the onslaught of chilly air?  We get that, too, but as we’re already tense, it makes moving a lot more difficult.”

 

Lena tentatively raises her hand, a memory rising to the surface at Olivia’s words.

 

“Yes?” Olivia asks, her eyes lighting up at seeing Lena with a question.

 

“So, years ago, our family took a trip up north, as you say.  Our youngest was four and had never seen snow. Now that you say this?  About the cold affecting your ability to move? I remember that she also struggled.  Said the cold froze her leg and arm or something. At the time, I just thought it was something cute she said, even though she did need help walking.”

 

“Kids will often tell you what they’re experiencing but they may not know why, or how to explain it more fully.” Olivia nods.  “Strong emotions also trigger spasticity. And I should mention? This isn’t something we are in control of. Spasticity is just there, or  _ really there, _ depending on the moment.  So, if your kid feels put on the spot, they might struggle physically.  If they’re sad or angry, or even really happy.”

 

Lena’s mind is blown as Olivia keeps laying out aspect after aspect just related to spasticity.  That it’s velocity-dependent. (Who knew?) Meaning that all those times it looked like Fran was moving intentionally slowly, when they asked her to hurry up?  She was actually trying to comply, but no one knew that her spasticity kicked in with speed. Lena makes a note about this. More apologizing to do.

 

They learn about the necessity of sturdy shoes with good tread.  They learn about overflow. About why Fran never seemed to perform as well during gait testing at her annual checkups as Lena knew she could. (As gait testing combined several of the things that triggered spasticity.)

 

She learns about the amount of energy it takes a person with CP just to do the same task as someone without (three to five times more!)  She learns more about Startle Reflex and why Fran hates fire alarms. (Olivia does, too.) Lena learns about why Fran seems hopelessly disoriented in public - a possible combination of depth perception issues and something called place-blindness.  (How has she heard of face-blindness but not this?) Lena learns they must teach Fran to navigate by landmarks. By narrating what’s around them. And be vigilant when she’s on field trips or even on a trip to a store, as there is the real possibility that she’ll be lost.

 

It’s happened before.  And Lena remembers being less than understanding.  Scolding then-six-year-old Francesca, thinking that she was being naughty, instead of believing her repeated explanation.  “ _ I looked up and you were gone.  I didn’t know where you were _ .”  All Lena’s impatient words about how they were in a grocery store and she needed to stay close come flooding back.

 

Lena, having lifted Fran into the cart and telling her if she was going to run and hide like a baby, she had to ride in the cart like one, and not walk like a big girl.

 

When Fran said, “I like it better anyways,” about the cart, Lena hadn’t known what to make of it.  What she meant as a punishment, Fran was enjoying. (Now Lena wonders if the cart didn’t provide Fran with a level of security, knowing she’d always be where Lena was.  Not to mention, allow her time to rest and recoup her energy.)

 

Blinking, Lena realizes Olivia is still talking, and has been all through her own trip down memory lane.  Now, Olivia’s sharing about the last aspect she’d like to discuss, and that’s dyscalculia.

 

The term sounds vaguely familiar to Lena and when Olivia explains further, it all clicks.  This is what Jesus was talking about when Fran failed her math test back in the fourth grade.  The equivalent of dyslexia, but with numbers.

 

“I’m the exception to this, actually,” Olivia says.  “No two people with CP are alike, and none of us have exactly the same symptom presentation, but enough of us do struggle with math that I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention it.  Know that if your kid with CP is struggling with math, it’s probably got nothing to do with how hard he studies. People often forget that what we’re actually dealing with here is brain damage.  It’s not just a physical problem. There can be cognitive aspects, too.”

 

“Now, I emailed your kids with CP, and I asked them which secret aspects of CP they each had.  They responded, and some wrote a little more information they said could be shared with you.”

 

They’re invited forward to pick up the printout with their child’s answers.

 

Lena braces herself and reads:

 

**_Which secret aspects of CP do you have?_ **

Fran writes:  _ Secret makes me think of a superhero with super powers SOOO….  Super muscle tenseness. Super sloth speed energy. Super jumping from being super startled.  Getting super lost. Needing super help in math. _

 

**_What would help each super aspect of CP?  If you could have anything, how would you want your parent to respond or help?_ **

Fran writes: _ Muscle tenseness - Get me out of swimming at school please.  Energy - Let me take alot of sitting breaks. Don’t make me do extra exersize.  Jumping - Listen when I tell you Jude makes me jump. Make him stop. Lost - Let me ride in the Caroline’s Cart in stores.  Math - Be patient. Know I am always trying. Try explaining in different ways. _

 

**_Anything else you want your parents to know about your secret aspects of CP?_ **

Fran writes: _   Yes, when you tell me to hurry all the time, I feel super sad.  I am always trying to go my fastest. _

 

**_Parents, what can you do the next time you notice your child struggling in one of these areas?_ **

Lena and Stef write: _ Listen to her.  Be patient. Believe her and take her feedback into account about what she needs. _

 

**_Write a response to your child_ **

_ Dear Fran, _

_ Mom and I are so proud of you for all the things you shared with us.  Thank you for sharing about what you need. We will make sure and address those things when we get home.  We are very sorry for not making Jude stop scaring you. And for telling you to hurry up. We know now that is not something you can do.  We will give you plenty of time so you don’t have to rush anymore. Okay? We love you. Love, Moms. _

 

Lena feels like she can finally breathe when she turns in her responses with Olivia.

 

“Thanks so much for this session.  You did great,” Lena tells her.

 

“Thank you. And I forgot to say that at the end of the week, there’s going to be a ton of information available to pick up and take with you.  In there, should be a handout from me with suggestions for how to help your kids with the secret aspects.” Olivia adds.

 

“Oh!  Wonderful,” Lena nods.  “Do you think it’s okay to…  Well, to bring up our own memories of when we may have mishandled things to our kids?  Even things they may not remember?” she asks. She’s thinking of the grocery store back when Fran was young.

 

“I think...it is important to let your kids know you’re sorry.  But not to overwhelm them. A lot of this is...it’s kind of your stuff, as a parent, to process and work through.  And it’s important to do your best not to put your child in a position where they feel forced to absolve you.”

 

“How do you mean?” Lena asks.

 

“Well, say that my parents suddenly came up to me and were like,  _ ‘Olivia, we are so sorry we ever took you skiing.  We’re terrible parents. Do you think we’re terrible?  You know we didn’t mean to be terrible, right?’ _ ”

 

“Ah,” Lena nods.

 

“So, instead, maybe bring up the instance more generally.  Maybe where it took place? ‘I’m remembering when we went skiing as a family.  I feel like I might not have been fair to you.’”

 

“So... _ I’m remembering going grocery shopping with you, and I feel like I might not have been fair to you _ ,” Lena tries.  

 

“Right.  Then ask what she remembers.  You might be surprised. And this way, you’ve opened the conversation and you’re in the position to apologize to her, not vice versa.”

 

“Thanks.  I feel like we’re definitely going to want to talk more on this break.  Is that possible?” Lena asks.

 

“Maybe not this one,” Olivia admits.  “It’s lunch, and we’re technically on break during lunch.”

 

“Oh.  Of course,” Lena nods.  

 

“But afternoon break, or the end of the day break are all solid options,” she offers.

 

“I look forward to it,” Lena nods and then turns back to Stef.

 

“What are you doing?” Lena asks as Stef pokes away at her phone.

 

“I Googled images for ‘super sloth’ and look what I found,” Stef shows her the screen.  There’s a sloth in a red eye mask and a cape. The text reads: SUPER SLOTH. “So, I’m sending this to Jesus, to pass along to Fran, and I guess if he thinks it’s okay, he will.”

 

“That’s sweet,” Lena nods.  “But let’s go get some lunch. I’m hungry.”

 

“You read my mind,” Stef agrees.


	169. Rapid Eye Movement

Pretty much the minute Jesus gets the sloth picture from Stef, he’s on edge.  And he knows that he’s got to call them. Not just about that, but to really get a sense of how they actually are, with all the workshop stuff.  Not just via thirdhand reports from Rosa Martinez (even though she’s awesome.)  

 

Family day is coming tomorrow.  And Jesus can’t risk bringing Fran or Mariana around Moms if this change he’s starting to sense isn’t for real.  It’s a chance he’s taking, calling Moms right now. But since he did just get the damn picture, and it’s about noon, Jesus figures maybe they’re free and having lunch or something.

 

Mariana’s resting up for the day tomorrow, and Jesus is going back and forth about giving the adult Avoiders a heads-up about what he’s about to do.  Part of him feels like this is nothing. He can easily do this. Especially with Dudley right here, and Mari right in the apartment with him. But another, smaller part of him is kinda insisting that Jesus might wanna think about at least telling someone what he’s planning.

 

But tell who?

 

Instead of shutting down the voice entirely, he tries tuning into it.  Going with what it’s saying.

 

He opens the Marco Polo app.  Taps the one that simply reads: The Wests.

 

“Hey.  Pearl and Levi.  I’m about to call and check in with Moms about how the thing’s going.”

 

“Really?” Pearl asks in her video back.

 

“Yeah, so I just wanted you to know.  So I’m not on my own if it goes bad,” Jesus says.

 

“Sounds sensible,” Pearl agrees.  “Do you want me to call in, say, twenty minutes?  Just to be sure you’re not in the weeds with them?”

 

“That’d be cool.  Thanks, Pearl,” Jesus says.  

 

Okay.  Enough stalling.  He has backup. Now Jesus actually has to do this thing.  He opens his contacts. Takes a deep breath. And taps Stef’s name.

 

\--

 

At Stef’s urging, she and Lena have gone ‘off-campus’ for lunch.  Driving thru somewhere and eating in the car. It reminds Stef of being young.  Of dating. Of course, she and Lena never had this phase. By the time they met, Stef already had Brandon and was in an unhappy marriage with Mike.

 

They’re just finishing up when her phone rings with Jesus’s ringtone.

 

“It’s Jesus…” Stef says, perplexed.

 

“Well, aren’t you going to answer it?” Lena presses.

 

“Right.”  

 

(But how can Stef admit that she’s not sure she’s ready to talk to him yet?  Still, he’s calling now. He’s reaching out. And there’s still a tiny part of her that leaps, remembering that phone call ten years ago.  She can’t not answer.)

 

“Jesus?” she asks, remembering Pablo’s advice about names.  “How are you, my baby?”

 

“Uh...fine?” he hedges.  “Listen. What’s the deal with this sloth pic you sent Fran?”

 

Stef takes a deep breath and lets it out.  Calm. It’s just secret intel. She wants all the damn secret intel and she has to keep it together in order for that to happen so…  “No deal,” she says conversationally. “She likes sloths. She mentioned them in her answers to us. So I found that little guy and thought of her.”

 

“Right...but...sloths is kinda a sensitive subject for her…” Jesus ventures.

 

Now Stef is seriously confused, but she asks.  “Can I put you on speaker phone? Mama’s here, too.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Okay.  You’ve got us both,” Stef says.

 

“Hey Jesus,” Lena greets.  

 

“Hey,” he says back, not even a little warmly.  He’s more… It hits Stef with a force she’s unprepared for:  He’s guarded. A lot like he’d been when she first saw him in that police station in LA.

 

“So, what were you saying?  About Fran and sloths?” Stef prompts.  “They’re a sensitive subject? Why? Did somebody make fun of her?”

 

“Yeah.  You guys,” Jesus says softly.  “You scoffed her costume idea and then told her she was too old to Trick-or-Treat anyway.”

 

Stef grips Lena’s hand, so it doesn’t feel like she’s falling, all on her own.  “She...she wrote about sloths to us in her answers, Jesus.”

 

“That’s because no matter how much Mari or I tried to explain?  Fran was convinced she was just emailing Olivia - a person with CP like her.  A person who would understand her references. Even though she did know it was for you?  That you would eventually see it? Not seeing your email addresses, and seeing Olivia’s there kind of crossed some wires for her.  She kept saying,  _ ‘I’m emailing Olivia, not Moms.  It’s Olivia’s email, see? _ ’

 

“So, she thought she was talking about sloths to someone who was a friend…” Lena deduces.

 

“Right,” Jesus nods.  “So, maybe...I don’t know...hold back on the sloth references with her?  At least maybe until she knows for sure it’s cool to bring up with you?”

 

“Sounds good,” Stef says, clearing her throat.  

 

“So...uh...how are things going there?” Jesus asks.  “Are you guys...like...okay?”

 

“We are,” Lena answers.  “Did you guys get our email, by chance?”

 

“Yeah, we wrote one back.  Rosa should have it,” Jesus passes along.

 

“Ah.  She mentioned wanting us to stay after tonight,” Stef nods to herself.  “So, we’re okay.”

 

“Is it safe for us to come tomorrow?” he asks bluntly.  “Because I’m not bringing my sisters to a place that’s unsafe, and I sure as hell have spent enough of my life in unsafe places to not have to do it now.”

 

“You’re right,” Lena answers gently.  “You don’t have to. We would love to see you.  We’re doing everything we possibly can to become better parents for all of you.”

 

“Remember the family expectations?” Jesus asks.  

 

“We do.  Of course, we do,” Lena says, but to be honest, Stef’s a little fuzzy on them.  It’s been years since they hung on the wall.

 

“I need tomorrow to have those.  And if Fran and Mari go home in a few days?  I need to know those are in effect.” Jesus says seriously.

 

“Did you...want to go over them together?” Stef asks, feeling very out of her depth.  

 

Jesus dives right in.  It’s like he’s been waiting to hear that exact question:  “No violence toward us - physical, psychological, verbal...any kind of violence.”  

 

“Of course,” Lena agrees, “No violence.”

 

“But you can’t just say  _ of course _ to it when we all know you’ve  _ been _ violent in the past.  I am serious when I say I won’t tolerate it.  And I will protect Fran and Mariana from you again, if I have to.”

 

“Jesus, you don’t have to.  We are the parents.  _  We  _ protect _ you _ ,” Lena says.

 

“All of us?” he asks.

 

“All of you, yes,” Stef insists.

 

“So...that doesn’t change for Fran or Mariana.  Protection doesn’t suddenly look different for them?” Jesus pushes.

 

“No,” Lena says.

 

“Good.” Jesus answers.  “No inappropriate language.  Don’t call Mariana the r-word and expect that we’ll all stand by and take it.  Stop with the mean nicknames and comments. No more threats of jail or inpatient therapy crap.  I mean it,” Jesus says.

 

“You’re absolutely right,” Lena answers.

 

“Mom?” Jesus asks.  “A joke is only a joke if everyone thinks it’s funny, right?  Not if we’re laughing because we’re afraid not to.”

 

“No, yeah, I agree.” Stef says.

 

“No one can touch us without asking first and hearing yes.  Having disabilities doesn’t change this. To touch us at all, you have to have enthusiastic consent,” Jesus insists.  “And closed doors mean privacy. So knock first, and don’t come in unless you hear, ‘ _ Come in _ .’  Are you guys writing this down or something?” Jesus asks.

 

There was a time when Stef might have laughed at a comment like this.  Made light of it. But with her new insight and craving secret intel, Stef knows she can’t afford to.  However uncomfortable this makes her, Stef is getting the distinct impression that she and Lena have made the kids that much more uncomfortable.

 

“We will, just as soon as we hang up,” Stef promises.

 

“Alright. Well, I’m gonna make sure Pablo or somebody else knows, too,” Jesus says, and Stef doesn’t like the feeling bubbling up inside.  Like the kids are checking up on them. Making sure they’re accountable. In fact, she resents it.

 

“We should talk later,” Lena says, noting Stef’s expression.  “We’ve got to get back inside. Rosa’s session is next. Love you guys.  If you need anything, let us know.”

 

“Talk to you later,” Jesus says.

 

\--

 

The minute Jesus hangs up, he sends a DM to Pablo on Twitter:

 

_ ItsHeyZeus: Hey, I wanted to send our fam guidelines to you.  Make sure Moms know and follow these 2m. No Violence. No Inappropriate Language.  No Touching Us w/o Consent. No Opening Doors w/o Consent _

 

_ PabloPerez: I like these.  Yes I will make sure Stef and Lena see them.  Go over them.   _

 

_ ItsHeyZeus: Plz show the whole team.  Make sure they know Moms have broken all of these w us before.  I don’t want to come (or have M or F there) if we are going to be in danger. _

 

_ PabloPerez: If you ever feel like you need to leave, you can leave.  No questions asked. We will make sure one of us goes with you to your car so nobody hassles you. _

 

_ ItsHeyZeus: Thx.  These were the fam expectations they gave to me when I got home @ 13.  I’ve always remembered them. But seems like they don’t think they apply to us.  Like, in reverse. _

 

_ PabloPerez: Right, for you guys (“kids”) to obey.  But they don’t have to. _

 

_ ItsHeyZeus: Yeah.  BTW thx for offering to walk us out. _

 

_ PabloPerez: No problem.  Also wanted you to know, come via the back door.  Less crowded. More lowkey. Team and I also want you to know that we’ll have fam discussions w/ you + Moms in break room, not main room.  So you’ll have privacy. _

 

_ ItsHeyZeus: I really appreciate that. _

 

_ PabloPerez: We will talk to them abt the email this afternoon.  We have your backs. _

 

_ ItsHeyZeus: Sounds good.  See ya. _

 

\--

 

“So, how did it go?  Are you okay?” Pearl asks, exactly twenty minutes later.  She figured a phone call would be more efficient than back and forth videos.

 

“Who knows?” Jesus sighs.  “It just...feels gross as hell…  You know, I spent  _ years _ of my life taking care of Ana.  And now it feels like I have to do the exact same thing for Stef and Lena.  Hold their hands. Lay out how things have to be. What’s acceptable. What’s not.”

 

“Sounds exhausting…” Pearl observes.

 

“And infuriating, since they’re literally the ones who drew up the damn family expectations or whatever and now it’s like...news to them,” Jesus rants.

 

“So, more parenting of the parents,” Pearl comments ruefully.

 

“Pretty much,” Jesus agrees.  “Oh. The team called this morning, though.”

 

“The team?  Sounds so official,” Pearl remarks, intrigued.

 

“It is, I guess.  So, Mari got to talk to her person.  Fran got to talk to hers a bit - since they called at like 7:30 AM.  And I got to talk to mine. We just DM’d a little, too. They’re super considerate.  It’s weird.”

 

“Right?” Pearl asks.  “No, I notice that being around you guys, versus, say my mother.  You guys think of things and are so accommodating that it almost feels unnecessary.”

 

“Right, but it’s not.  Like, my dude was legitimately telling me all this stuff about how the back entrance is better to come in through, because of privacy.  How they’re not going to expect Fran, Mari and I to talk in the main room, but that we could have one of their break rooms. And that if we had to leave for any reason?  Somebody would walk us out. For safety.”

 

“That sounds huge.  I know sometimes walking places unaccompanied can feel dangerous,” she says.  (Pearl’s riffing on her own life here. Her own experience running into her trauma at the post office, years ago.)

 

“Yeah, definitely,” Jesus agrees.  “Like, even that you get that. It’s something Stef and Lena just...wouldn’t.”

 

“Your dude sounds very cool,” Pearl approves.  

 

“Yeah.  He’s around my age even.  I know Mari’s is a lot older than her.  And Fran’s is older, too. But mine, is, like...we could possibly be friends or something.”

 

“You’ll have to keep me apprised.  You know, if you want. Let me know how it goes,” Pearl says.

 

“Definitely.  Hey, how is it being home?”

 

“Oh, my dad-abandonment-feelings are at an all-time high.  But Levi and I listened to this adorable audio tape of Dad and me.  Sounded like it might have been made right before he left. No indication of why he made it or that he was even going to leave,” Pearl sighs.

 

“Maybe making it  _ was _ the indication,” Jesus points out gently.

 

“Yeah, I’d thought of that, too,” Pearl admits.  “I just...don’t like thinking that he had time to think it through and still decided leaving me behind with her was in my best interest.” Pearl muses.

 

“It sounds complicated,” Jesus offers.

 

“It is,” she confirms.  “Were Stef and Lena okay, though?  They weren’t mean to you, were they?”

 

“Pearl, you forget.  They’re almost never mean to me.  I’m the one they’re on their best behavior for.  So, there’s really no way to know what we’re walking into tomorrow.  Still...you know...I had to try. See what I could find out.”

 

“Right, I know.  Well, I’m here if you need me.  Levi is, too. Just keeping a low profile I think while he psyches himself up for the new job.”

 

“Right that’s...November, right?” Jesus asks.  “So, less than a week away?”

 

“Yeah,” Pearl sighs.  “Wish we could expedite the process.  Get to San Diego sooner.”

 

“You will,” Jesus tells her.  “Thanks for being here, Pearl.  We miss you guys.”

 

“Aw... _ we _ miss  _ you _ guys.  So much,” Pearl answers.  “Talk to you later.”

 

And then, as much as she doesn’t want to, Pearl hangs up.


	170. Scars

Stef has to seriously brace herself for Rosa’s session.  Obviously, Rosa’s on their side. She’s here to help them learn, but Stef fluctuates between being really impressed by her and not liking her very much.

 

Olivia at least tries to soften things.  To realize that being a mom is hard. But Rosa’s different.  She’s always been blunt. Never appearing to care much if feelings are hurt or about her own rudeness.  (Stef’s still not over how she just walked away yesterday afternoon when they were all talking and having coffee.)

 

All of this is made worse by the fact that somehow, only she and Lena remain for this particular session.  It seems that no one else has come because of a child with a TBI.

 

It makes Stef feel more ostracized than ever.

 

And it’s jarring as hell when Rosa just comes over and pulls up a chair across from them and starts to talk.

 

When someone else neither Stef nor Lena knows comes to join them.

 

\--

 

There’s no way Rosa’s ready for this.  She’s never ready to talk to parents who are so steeped in their own ableism that they can’t see the damage they’re doing to their own child.  But Mariana needs this. Needs someone to show up for her. Needs  _ Rosa _ to show up for her.

 

And Rosa’s so desperate for them to get it that she’s beyond relieved that the session is just herself, Stef and Lena.  Smaller is better. Ollie, the only other brain injury survivor on staff is here, too, as moral support. He’s a little younger.  His injury a little newer. But Rosa’s positive that these moms need as many different points of view as possible.

 

Lena checks her schedule and regards Ollie.  “Aren’t you speaking on Thursday? On Disability and Adoption?” she asks.

 

“Yeah,” he says.  He’s quiet. Regarding them briefly with an intense gaze.  “So, what?”

 

“So...Ollie’s here, because I asked him.  He’s here as a favor to me,” Rosa says. “Do you want to tell them why I asked you to join?”

 

“No,” Ollie says, crossing his arms and sitting back.

 

“Fair,” Rosa says.  She turns her attention back to Stef and Lena.  

 

“So...this session is just us?” Stef asks, looking deeply uncomfortable.

 

“Yes,” Rosa answers.  “And I was hoping to get started, if you don’t mind…”

 

Both Stef and Lena gesture for Rosa to continue and she does:

 

“So...I got my injury when I was 30.  I was...still living with my parents, as I wasn’t married.  My older sister had married and moved out sometime before. So, it was just the three of us.  And we were happy...for the most part.”

 

“When…” Ollie starts.  “When...it happened… Did that...I don’t know...change?”

 

“It did,” Rosa nods.  “It was very hard for me.  Coming to terms with everything I couldn’t do easily anymore.  Finding out that  _ everything _ took energy.  Holding a simple conversation like this, I have to figure out how to filter out the light and any excess noise, focus on what’s being said.  Find words to respond. Hope to God they’re right. And if we’re walking, I have to also dedicate energy to keeping my balance. And to the act of walking itself.  Doing all of this at the same time? That means severe mental fatigue. The more fatigued I am, the less inflection I have in my voice. Inflection takes energy.”

 

“But...I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” Stef objects.  “You’re fine right now. You  _ sound _ fine, I mean.  The more I’m around you, the more convinced I am that Mariana could be where you are.  If she’d just work a little harder. But she’s just not motivated…” 

 

Rosa has to take a deep breath, before continuing.  Ollie leans over and whispers to her:

 

“Seriously...I’m about to go off…” he warns.

 

“You don’t have to stay,” Rosa reassures.  “I can handle this.”

 

“But you asked me,” Ollie points out.  “So, I gotta be here. Have your back.”

 

“You need to take care of  _ you _ ,” Rosa says evenly.  “They’re not going to be able to learn anything if we beat them up.  Even just verbally. So, take a break. Take a breath. Whatever you need to do.  Break rooms are available.”

 

“Fuck the break rooms,” he whispers.  But he closes his eyes and is able to take a couple deep breaths with Rosa.  Seems to get himself centered again.

 

“It’s not a motivation thing,” Ollie tells Stef and Lena.

 

They look at each other, and then back at Rosa.  As if they can’t just take Ollie’s word for it. Ollie, of course, notices.  These moms are about as subtle as an earthquake.

 

“Fine.  Whatever.  I have a brain injury, too.  Can you just believe me for a second?” he asks.

 

“But this is  _ your _ session,” Lena points out, looking at Rosa.  “Are you really okay with this?”

 

“This is moral support.  Which I very much need. Which I did ask Ollie for.  And which he graciously agreed to provide when he did not have to,” Rosa insists.  “He is right, by the way. Motivation isn’t the issue for Mariana.”

 

“You’ve never even met her.  How can you say that with so much certainty?” Lena asks.

 

“How long ago was Mariana injured?” Rosa asks rhetorically.  (They all know. But she’s trying to make a point.)

 

“Almost 18 months ago,” Lena says.

 

“Ollie?” Rosa asks.

 

“Six years.  Almost seven.”

 

“And I have had  _ twenty years _ to develop coping strategies.  I work very hard, every single second, at passing.  It’s a huge energy suck. I guarantee you that I will spend one to two weeks in bed after this workshop is over - which I have scheduled as vacation - but trust me, it’s not fun,” Rosa explains.  “One of the worst things I heard when recovering was when...say an old friend would see me...they’d say ‘ _ Rosa, you look so great.  I can’t even tell. _ ’”

 

“I don’t get why that’s bad…” Stef says.  “I mean, people say that to Mariana all the time.  I would think you’d take it as a compliment, right?  Your hard work is paying off.”

 

“Because it means they don’t  _ see me _ ,” Rosa stresses.  “They have no idea how hard I’m working to keep my inflection ‘appropriate for the situation.’  Or how hard I’m working to always find the right words. To filter out all the background noises.  Any cross-conversation. It feels….like they don’t care.”

 

“Dismissive,” Ollie offers.  “I mean...there was a time, when I did.  I craved that response. That someone couldn’t tell what happened.  Because that old version of me was all I had to go on. I had no idea who I was afterward.  I lost my primary source of income, my passion, my whole identity. So I had to figure out...you know...who exactly am I without this major piece?  And with so much of me changed?”

 

“So, you both agree...Mariana  _ did _ change, then.  She’s not the same person,” Lena insists, her eyes strangely bright.

 

“It changed her identity, yes,” Rosa agrees.  “But she’s still 23. She’s still an adult, who can make her own choices and who deserves to have her rights and limits respected.  One of the biggest hurdles I ran into post-injury was not having supports in place when I needed them. My family had no concept that a person’s capacity can shift.  What I could do last week, no problem, I am not going to be able to do next week.”

 

“Because of the energy suck,” Stef deduces.  

 

“Right,” Rosa nods.

 

“But how do we handle the inappropriate outbursts?” Stef asks.  “Because those are just getting to be too much. How do we get Mariana to see that she can’t get what she wants by acting out.”

 

“How do people handle yours?” Ollie asks, a flash of temper in his eyes.

 

“She’s only got six months left to reach a full recovery and she’s just giving up at every turn,” Lena pushes back, defensive.  “This isn’t about us. It’s about Mariana.”

 

“Whoa.  Okay,” Rosa says, knowing she needs to intervene and fast.  “So, first...what you’re talking about, Stef? A lot of parents feel that.  Mine did. They felt like when I lost control, it was willful. It wasn’t. I was frustrated and no one was listening to me.  I was being pushed too hard. Pre-injury, when I said ‘no’ to something? That was that. Post-injury? Nobody, not even my own family took me seriously.  They assumed I didn’t know what I was talking about.”

 

“But how is anybody supposed to know that you even  _ know _ your limits after something like this?” Stef presses.  “Mariana didn’t even make sense when she woke up.”

 

“What helps us here is knowing that we all respect one another.  Knowing that we all do take each other’s limits seriously and don’t push beyond them.  We know that behavior  _ is  _ communication.  We know that we all need enough breaks built into our days, and enough rest.  We never, ever tell each other that our valid emotions are ‘just the injury,’ because that does nothing but further demean and isolate us,” Rosa presses on, feeling tension mount.

 

Being so careful here, softening her words, her edges, her impulses?  It’s shredding Rosa inside. Beside her, Ollie is fidgeting in his chair, not looking at them.  Still, she has to keep trying. Because if Mariana and her baby sister go home to this? They have no chance at all.

 

“When you’re around Mariana again, I want you to try something,” Rosa encourages, trying to will her voice to sound like she feels about this.  That it’s an idea she’s happy with. That it’s worth trying. “The first time you hear her say no to something, back off. In my experience, it was being ignored and bulldozed that led to a lot of my overload.  When people acknowledge me and treat me like a human being, it’s much easier to maintain equilibrium.”

 

“All the doctors...they make it sound so much more complicated than that.  Like...so much more is required…so that she’ll reach full function again,” Lena points out.

 

“She won’t,” Ollie says, matter of fact. “She has a brain injury.  Just like Olivia was saying yesterday, those don’t go away. No matter how old we are.  No matter how hard we work.”

 

“The two year recovery window is a myth,” Rosa says.  “My parents were told that after my injury two decades ago.  I’m still making improvements, but it’s because I’ve let myself rest.  I’ve let myself adapt instead of running myself into the ground.”

 

“But what kind of parents are we if we just let her sit at home and watch Netflix and sleep?” Lena asks.

 

“Probably the kind that realize she needs a ton of sleep right now, and that realize watching Netflix takes less energy than, say, conversation, reading, or going out and contending with bright daylight.” Rosa advises.

 

“Her doctors never said anything about this,” Stef scoffs.

 

“Well, there’s a lot of ableism in the medical community,” Rosa explains, trying to keep her focus.  “Their aim is to fix and heal. They don’t tell parents how to adapt to a new life. They’re all about full recovery, and if that’s not in the cards, then they’re very negative.  Very sad. They don’t offer a lot of hope. That’s why it’s imperative to connect with people in your kids’ communities, and that they do so as well. We’re the experts here. We’ve walked where Mariana’s walking now.  And all we want to do is help.”

 

“It’s just...so much to take in…” Stef manages.  “And I know we haven’t done everything right. I know I’ve done a lot wrong.  But at this point? I don’t even know where I’d start, trying to make things right.”

 

“You can start by asking her questions,” Rosa suggests.  “If you notice, that’s a lot of what we do as speakers. We’re trying to facilitate communication between children and parents.  Notice the questions we’re asking. Ask those types of things. Then listen to her answer. Believe what she’s telling you. Like you’ve heard in other sessions.  That’s a start.”

 

“Did you ask her anything?” Lena wonders, tentative.

 

“Of course, I did,” Rosa nods, handing them both a printout.

 

\--

 

The question, and Mariana’s answers, steal Stef’s breath:

 

**_What are some things you want your parents to know?_ **

_ Mariana writes, That I’m not gone.  That I’m not a child. I found the website. _

 

**_Parents, write a response to your child, factoring in what you’ve learned today:_ **

_ Mari, I know you’re not gone.  I’m thankful every day for that.  I know you’re not a child. I am sorry for treating you like one.  We will do better at listening to you in the future. I don’t understand what you mean about the website…. _

 

“Did you see this?” Stef whispers to Lena.  “She found the website…”

 

Lena’s got her phone out.  Stef’s sure she’s Googling it.  Finding zero results.

 

“There’s no way.  Maybe she just found the...I don’t know...the links on my Facebook?  But didn’t read them?” Lena says, hopeful. “Let’s not borrow trouble unless we have to.”

 

Stef lets out a breath.

 

There’s so much to fix.

 

They’ve done so much damage.

 

It’ll be a miracle if the kids even want to speak to them again.

 

**_When you are at your limit, what do you need from your parents?_ **

Mariana writes, _ Understand that I am done.  Let me take a break. (Quiet. Dark.) Don’t guilt me about it later. _

 

**_Parent, write a response to your child, factoring in what you’ve learned today:_ **

Stef writes, _ Mariana, we get it.  We do. But we cannot always give you exactly what you want when you want it. _

Lena writes, _ But we can understand that when you’re at your limit you need us to back off and not make you feel guilty. _

 

“Wow, thanks for having my back there,” Stef whispers.

 

“What?  Stef, we need to meet them halfway…” Lena returns.

 

“So, let’s give into her every time she starts swearing at us.  That sounds great, Lena.” Stef hisses.

 

She can hardly stand to look at the final question:

 

**_If you could have anything from your parents, what would it be?_ **

Mariana writes, _ Remember the parents you were for Jesus?  Be that for me. And Fran. We deserve all the love and understanding you gave him. _

 

**_Parent, write a response to your child, factoring in what you’ve learned today:_ **

Stef writes, _ Honey, Jesus was kidnapped.  It was a long time for him to be gone. He came back very different and he needed Mama and me to be different parents for him.  Just like you need us to be different parents for you. And Fran needs different parents for her. I hear that you’re jealous, but we cannot parent all of you exactly alike. _

Lena writes, _ Mom’s right.  We know you’re twins and you love having everything the same, but it’s not always possible. _

 

“There.  Was that so hard?” Stef asks, kissing Lena lightly.


	171. Ascension

Every time Lena can get outside between these sessions, it’s like being liberated. She can breathe.  She can be. She can just...not worry so much.

 

The session with Rosa hardly seemed like a session at all.  More like a conversation. And the time had flown by. To the point where she hadn’t really been ready for Mariana’s answers.

 

She still doesn’t know what to make of her claiming to have found a website that no longer exists.  Brandon probably deleted it. Or made it private somehow. Probably for the better. That’s not a period of time Lena ever wants to look back on.

 

She and Stef walk a good distance away from the building and reclaim their picnic table.  Lena hopes whoever also comes out here will take a hint and give them space.

 

Stef’s quiet.

 

They just sit.

 

It’s peaceful and nearly perfect.

 

\--

 

Rosa can barely breathe once she’s out of the session with Stef and Lena.

 

Ollie is long gone.  Rosa’s pretty sure that despite his distaste for the break rooms that’s exactly where he’s taken refuge.  A place where screaming, swearing and throwing things is perfectly acceptable and no one will fault you for it.

 

She’s on her way to occupying one herself when Roman stops her.  He’s someone she’s known for years. Her parents are on the wealthy side.  Roman’s obviously well-off. They hung out socially, when forced to go along with their parents to long, boring evenings in awful dresses, and hot, stifling suits.

 

Now, though?  Rosa counts on Roman as family is supposed to be able to count on one another.  He’s seen her at her worst. She’s seen him at his.

 

“How’d it go?” he asks, concerned. (They all knew about Rosa and Ollie’s unique situation with Stef and Lena being the only parents of a person with a TBI.)

 

“So bad...” Rosa manages, barely holding back tears.  Barely keeping herself together.

 

Roman regards her for a while with an inscrutable expression.  Then, he walks away.

 

Rosa closes herself into the nearest break room, head throbbing, and prays Roman will have better luck with them.

 

She knows him well enough to know exactly where he’s going.

 

\--

 

Roman pushes open the doors to the church and heads toward the table where Stef and Lena are seated.  

 

(He’s checked in with Nira.  She and Machelle are fine, commandeering a break room and enjoying all of the sensory toys.  He’d offered to hang out, too, but Nira, had said, “ _ Bye, _ Ocean,” testily, letting him know he was overstaying his welcome.

 

“Bye, Nira.  I’ll just be outside if you need me,” he’d said, closing the door behind him.)

 

He can tell the moment Stef sees him coming.  She sits straighter. Leans in. Speaks to Lena who turns, and is more subtle about clocking him.

 

Still, he continues to approach them, casual.  Bright, even.

 

“Hey!  How’d the session go?” he asks.

 

“Good!  Really, really good.  Here. Have a seat,” Stef says, indicating the abandoned side of the bench.

 

Roman does, sitting down to face them.  “Really?” he asks, interested. “Did you take any notes?”

 

Lena speaks up for the first time here.  “Actually, no… The atmosphere was so casual that it completely slipped my mind.”

 

Roman’s smiling, but incredulous. “You had a private session with Rosa freakin’ Martinez and you didn’t take one note?”

 

Stef grins at him, like they’re old friends. “Guilty.”

 

“Why?” Roman pushes back a little, keeping his tone light.

 

“Well the conversation was just going by so fast...and like I said...it just...didn’t seem very official, I guess?  Right, Stef?” Lena asks.

 

“Very informal,” Stef concurs.

 

“Ah.  What gave you that impression?” he asks, curious.

 

“Why do you ask?” Lena wonders, guarded.

 

“Just out of curiosity.  I mean, was it the smaller numbers?” Roman asks conversationally.

 

“Possibly,” Lena hedges.

 

Stef speaks up then: “And to be honest we were a little taken off guard by the other one.”

 

“I’m confused.  Other what?” Roman asks, though he has a sinking feeling in his gut he knows exactly.

 

Stef rushes to explain.  “Rosa had him there as moral support, apparently?  He definitely reminded me more of Mariana. Short fuse.  Angry.”

 

“Wait.  So you’re saying you had Rosa  _ and _ Oliver Enfield?” Roman asks.

 

“You say their names like we should recognize them.  Are they famous?” Stef asks.

 

“They matter to your children.  I’m just saying, you lucked out.  You had two people willing to share with you.  Two people with unique presentations of the same disability your daughter has, willing to share their experiences with you.  That was an opportunity. To listen. To learn. To gather more of that secret intel we were discussing,” Roman tries.

 

Lena and Stef are silent.

 

_ If at first you don’t succeed… _   Roman thinks.  “Why do you think Oliver was angry?”

 

“No idea,” Stef maintains.  “He did say his injury meant he lost his job, his income, his passion...”

 

Lena interjects here: “No, see, we were asking about outbursts.  He didn’t like it - I’m sure because he looked like he was on the verge of one - no one likes to be faced with their own shortcomings.”

 

“A shortcoming?” Roman asks, trying to resist the urge to start screaming at them.  He breathes instead, speaking even more quietly, and with more control: “I see. But I still don’t understand.  You had an hour, just with them, right? You didn’t write one thing down about what they said?”

 

Stef actually cracks up here.  “You act like we did this as an intentional slight.  It wasn’t.”

 

Roman persists.  “What about the other sessions?  Did you take notes?”

 

“Every one,” Lena answers proudly.

 

“ _ Every one _ .  But not this one?” Roman asks.  “May I tell you something? Even if I go to the general session on autism every single year?  I always take notes. Because there’s always something to learn.”

 

“In all honesty, Roman?” Stef interjects, putting him on edge with her familiarity.

 

“Mr. Santanos,” he corrects smoothly.

 

“Right.  Mr. Santanos.  In all honesty?  They’re very hard to take,” Stef says, lowering her voice.

 

“How do you mean that?” Roman asks, working to keep his tone measured.  Open.

 

Lena jumps in here: “We just mean you...have a way with words.  Olivia, for example, too. She’s gentle. Sweet. Unassuming. You really get the feeling she cares about our feelings.”

 

“Kind of the same way your children care about your feelings?” Roman asks, feeling like they’re finally getting to the core issue.

 

“At least Jesus and Francesca.  Most of the time,” Stef offers, a little grudgingly.

 

Roman goes over all of this deliberately for Stef and Lena, hoping they can pick up on just how ableist it is.  “So...you found Rosa and Oliver difficult to take because they can’t offer you a soothing tone of voice? Because they’re not able to be verbose?”

 

“I think, to be honest, sir?  It’s like Stef was saying. They remind us of our daughter,” Lena confesses.

 

“And would you say you find it difficult to take her in as well, because she can’t cater to your emotions?” Roman asks.

 

“Perhaps,” Lena allows.  “Why would we want to listen to someone who doesn’t care about us?”

 

“So, we’re messing up left and right.  What do you suggest?” Stef asks.

 

“Lena.  I want you to stop right there.  You just said something big.  _ Why would we want to listen to someone who doesn’t care about us?   _ Because we’re parents.  Because it’s our job. So, what I would suggest?  Treat Mariana, Rosa, Oliver, everyone who brings up this feeling in you?  Treat them like you would the person you respect most in your life. Who is that?” Roman quizzes.

 

“Right now?  It’s you, sir,” Stef says.  

 

“You respect me because I happen to have been born male.  Straight. Cis. Because I have light skin and light eyes.  Because I was born into privilege and wealth. Because I am, as you put it, verbose.  But I didn’t earn these things. I’ve said to you the same types of things that Nira has.  That Rosa has. That Oliver has. Maybe even that Mariana has. But you give me the benefit of the doubt.”

 

“Are you saying, we need to give them the benefit of the doubt?” Lena asks.  Treat Rosa the way we treat you?”

 

“Just between us, I think a genuine apology couldn’t hurt,” Roman suggests.

 

“This is going to sound awful but...why?” Stef asks.  “Why would we go out of our way to show respect for someone who has none for us?”

 

Roman focuses on the trees behind Stef and Lena.  On the sound of his own breathing. He sips water, hoping like hell for some last bit of control.  “I want you to think back to the first thing we did here. The very first session. The privilege walk.”

 

“Okay,” Lena nods.  

 

Stef, too.

 

“Have either one of you ever been looked down on, disrespected, treated differently, what have you, because of something you cannot help?” Roman asks.

 

“Yes,” they say together.

 

“You are asking Rosa, and Oliver and Mariana to do things that they cannot do.  I’m positive Rosa spoke to you both about how vocal inflection requires energy, right?”

 

“She did,” Lena nods.

 

“And she also must’ve said that she doesn’t have much in reserves as far as that goes when stress is high, or when she’s got a lot going on?”

 

“I think I remember something like that…” Stef admits.

 

“You are asking these people - people who I greatly admire and respect - to prove  _ their _ respect for  _ you _ by performing it in a way that feels comfortable for you.  So, now it’s a catch-22. They can’t prove they respect you, and you’re not respecting them.  So, yes. Give them the benefit of the doubt. Like Nira, they spend most of their days catering to nondisabled norms and comfort levels.  There comes a time when we just can’t anymore. Don’t punish people for not being able to do what you do without even thinking. Please.”

 

“Okay.  We’ll do that.  We’ll find her. Find both of them.  And apologize,” Lena decides.

 

“Good,” Roman gets up and walks a few steps away from them before turning back.  “If you respect me as much as you say you do, you should respect them, no contest.  It’s because of them I know what I know.”

 

\--

 

There’s fifteen minutes of the break left when Lena glances up and sees Rosa and Oliver walking outside.

 

She nudges Stef.

 

“It’s now or never,” Stef says.

 

“Hi, Rosa?  Oliver?” Lena asks.  (This close up, it’s obvious they are both struggling.  Rosa’s eyes are puffy and red and Oliver’s hand is wrapped.)  “We’d like to apologize for our actions earlier. In your session.  We could’ve been much better listeners.”

 

“Yes, you could’ve,” Rosa says, not giving an inch.

 

“Damn straight,” Oliver concurs.

 

Stef surprises Lena, clearing her own throat.  “And I uh… I realize that, in addition to behaving like an ass today...I behaved like one yesterday, as well.  Suggesting that Mariana fight through her depression. That was out of line and I am sorry.”

 

“Thank you,” Rosa says, nodding.

 

“If you’ll have us, we’d love to sit down with you after the final session.  For whatever it is you want to tell us.” Lena adds. “Jesus mentioned they emailed.”

 

“Yes, they did.  See you then,” Rosa nods, turning on her heel and heading back inside.

 

Not the warm acceptance of apology that Lena or Stef was used to, but, Lena’s learning.  Expecting them to be warm on demand is entitled. And too much for them besides.

 

But Lena feels positive they’ve made a start.


	172. Ray of Light

Stef and Lena walk into a filled session.  It’s no wonder. Sarah Jensen is engaging, thoughtful, fun.  (And it doesn’t hurt that she is gorgeous.)

 

Talking to Roman had clarified a lot for Stef.  She’s started to realize that it’s possible she was being unfair to Rosa and her friend.  They’re here. They obviously have something of value to teach. And if Roman Santanos likes and respects them?  Stef can’t risk not doing the same and missing out. (She also doesn’t want it getting out that she’s ableist. She’s not.  She has three kids with disabilities. She can’t be.)

 

“Hi, everyone.  I’m Sarah Jensen and it’s great to see all of you here.  Today I’m going to talk to you guys about something very important and that is something called inspiration porn.  Some people are offended by the use of the word porn. I’m not one of those people. Because, as we know, porn is synonymous with objectifying people.”

 

Now, Stef is definitely uncomfortable.  This knockout blonde is in front of them all talking about porn.  Is it hot in here?

 

“Uh, kid in the room,” Jonah says, raising his hand.  Stef can hear the smile in his voice. He starts giggling.  Can’t stop.

 

“Yes, I know.  Do you want to stay while I explain to the abled parents what this is?  Or would you rather come back in five minutes?” Sarah asks.

 

“I’ll...I’ll come back…” Jonah decides.

 

Sarah waits until Jonah’s outside the doors before she continues.

 

\--

 

It’s Jonah reminding Sarah that he is, in fact, still in the room, that gives Sarah the opportunity to glance around.  In letting him excuse himself, she’s also taking in faces. Taking in the moms that managed to push both Rosa and Ollie so past their limits that neither one is here right now.

 

Word travels fast around here.  Every year, they have at least a parent or parents who are particularly toxic.  Whom everyone is warned about in advance, to practice safety in numbers and never be one on one with them unless they were supremely confident that they were in a good place emotionally and could withstand the ableism.

 

This year, those parents are Stef and Lena Adams Foster.

 

Sarah recognized them on sight.  Who wouldn’t? Even growing up on the East Coast, she heard what happened to their son.  Heard about the birth of their youngest with CP. Rejoiced when he was found and came home again.  Was shocked again recently at the news that another one of their children had been hurt.

 

That was when Sarah finally started suspecting something wasn’t quite right in this family.  Then there was the website - available if you had a link or just knew where to look and were curious.  Sarah read a single entry from days or weeks after the accident and vowed to never read again. She’d been so filled with secondhand embarrassment.  Humiliation. It had pushed her to call home and ask her parents point blank if they shared about her medical information online.

 

They assured her they hadn’t.  Not even when she was a toddler.

 

Sarah regards Stef and Lena for a long moment before letting her eyes roam elsewhere.  They double check the empty places in the row where Jonah and his mom (also a wheelchair-user) have vacated.

 

“Inspiration Porn differs in that people with disabilities don’t consent to the way we are being used.  Now, what exactly am I talking about? Who here has read the news lately? Or seen that final segment before the evening news goes off the air?  How it often is about a story that’s called  _ heartwarming _ or _ inspirational? _ ”

 

Hands go up around the room.

 

(Sarah’s positive she hears someone murmur, “I _ love those! _ ” and she has to close her eyes.)

 

“Okay, so…  Inspiration Porn says that those of us who have disabilities are inspirational _ just  _ because we have disabilities.  Now, why is that harmful? Because for people like me, and a lot of us here?  Having a disability is the only life we know. It would feel pretty weird if every time you went out, somebody praised you for it, without even knowing you, right?  But that’s a big part of what’s damaging about it.”

 

Sarah takes a deep breath.  She normally wouldn’t be this real.  Or risk upsetting anyone. But she feels strongly that they must present a united front now.  Whether Rosa and Ollie are watching or not, they need to know the rest have their backs. Sarah recognizes her privilege in being able to modulate what she says and how she says it to the precise degree that makes it digestible for these people.  She knows people listen to her because she’s pretty. Because she’s blonde. Blue-eyed. Well, fine. They can listen now.

 

“Seeing me out shopping should not give you all the feels!  Okay? It just shouldn’t. I’m a grown woman. I need groceries just like the rest of you, so I go shopping.  But so often the way we’re talked about in news stories? We’re basically objects that exist to make the abled public feel better about yourselves.”

 

Sarah takes a deep breath.  Then, she calls out to Robyn.  “Every prom season, what do you see?”

 

“Person with Down Syndrome Gets Asked To Prom!” Robyn calls out.

 

“Is that news-worthy?” Sarah asks.

 

“No,” Robyn answers.

 

“No, it’s not.  Neither is ‘So-and-So Overcame His Disability and Walked at Graduation.’  These are simply life events. Besides the fact that overcoming disability is super harmful and probably exhausts whoever does it.  Stories like these are a type of Inspiration Porn called Participation Trophies. We get recognition for things that are a part of life.  Robyn, would you like it if there was a story like that about you at prom?”

 

“No, I like to kiss my date in private!” Robyn insists.

 

“I hear you,” Sarah responds.

 

“There’s a second type...which, by the way, I’m positive your kids are familiar with these, even if they don’t know their names.  But this second type is called the Nondisabled Hero. You know...a woman notices another woman walking to work in winter. Gives her a ride.  Woman 1 finds out Woman 2 is disabled. Woman 1 is nominated as some kind of hero for making a choice to continue to give Woman 2 a ride. Woman 1 gets $500 in airline vouchers.  What does Woman 2 get? Anyone?”

 

“I give up,” a parent in the audience says.

 

“She gets her diagnosis outed to her entire city.  Inaccurate information spread about her. She gets put on the spot and asked for her picture.  Asked to dress like she is going to work. Woman 2 gets to feel like crap. Used. Worthless. All so that Woman 1 can get $500 for doing something that  _ she chose _ to do.”

 

“That can’t be real,” another parent objects.

 

“Oh, it is very real.  Trust me,” Sarah says. “The same example can be used to discuss the theme People as Props.  Woman 2’s image was needed for Woman 1 to get her hero reward. But Woman 2 was never interviewed.  Never asked if she consented to the information being shared about her. How often do you read about what’s being done for a disabled person by an abled person?  All the time, right? This is People as Props.”

 

Sarah pauses for some water.

 

“Gawking Without Talking.  When you read about a fast food employee helping a customer with a disability eat, do you ever wonder whether that person consented to being filmed?  (Because you know it’s on video.) Did they want their everyday moment to go viral? Help with daily living skills is vulnerable. It takes an enormous amount of trust in those around us.  And people need to eat, right? But should it be made into a feel-good moment? Or should a person just be able to eat their meal in peace?”

 

Sarah stops and waits.  “It’s the second one.”

 

Jonah, now back from his five minutes to get himself together, laughs.

 

“Now, I am giving all of you time...because I have a feeling you might not like this last one.  But I have to share it. The last example version of Inspiration Porn is called SuperParent. These stories focus on praising a parent of a child with a disability for all their achievements and apparent sacrifices.  For loving their child ‘in spite of’ their disability. When parents of abled children achieve things, it’s not in spite of their child. If they sacrifice things - if they  _ love their child _ \- that’s called parenting.  But we are made to feel as if loving us is some major feat.  Someone is being ‘so nice,’ ‘so generous,’ ‘so kind,’ just by loving us because we’re disabled.  That is ableist. And it only causes us to hate ourselves.”

 

“Um...excuse me?” 

 

Sarah has to take a second to calm down before she calls on the parent with her hand up.  God. It’s Lena Adams Foster. Sarah looks to the front of the room, where Alexis is

 

They lock eyes.

 

“ _ I got you _ ,” Alexis promises.

 

“Yes?” Sarah asks, feeling braver.

 

“I was just wondering.  Yesterday, when Corbin spoke, I found myself wanting to find his mom afterward.  To thank her? I guess I’m wondering if this is somehow related to what you just discussed?  The phenomenon of the SuperParent?”

 

“I think that’s a safe assumption,” Sarah nods.

 

“So, instead of being drawn to her and what she did for her son, I should have been focused on Corbin and what he achieved.”

 

“You should have been listening to what he actually said,” Jonah points out.  “He gives really good speeches. He’s done this a long time.”

 

“Very good point, Jonah.  Thanks,” Sarah says. “I’m sure all of you parents know what’s coming by now, but I emailed your kids about these types of Inspiration Porn and you can find the questions and their responses up front.”

 

\--

 

Stef is scrolling through her phone.  She’s taken so many notes that some have disappeared into the void.  She’s on such a high. First talking to Roman Santanos for the second time, and now hearing all this good information from Sarah.  Lena’s up front getting questions.

 

For the first time, Stef feels ready to see the questions.  Ready to address them. Maybe because the focus of this session wasn’t on parents as much as it was on media representation, and parents can’t be held responsible for that, can they?

 

Lena comes back with the questions and looks over them with Stef:

 

**_Have you ever been included in a media story that made you feel objectified?  (Not like a person?)_ **

 

Jesus writes, _ Yes, do one Google search on me and you will find so many results about how amazing Moms are for dealing w me now.  Photo controversy last year. _

 

Mariana writes, _ Yes, the website was all about how hard I made your lives.  How hard I would be / am to love because of my TBI. _

 

Fran writes, _ Yes, Brandon told every one that I am special needs and Moms are great because they include me in the family and love me.  _

 

**_Parents, did you have a part in the objectification of your children?  If so, how can you remedy the situations your children have brought to your attention?_ **

Lena writes, _ Yes.  We have remedied Jesus’s and Mariana’s.  We will ask the website to take down their article using Brandon’s post. _

 

Stef writes, It seems that we did.  I am confused, though. I thought this was about news media.  And only Fran’s response fits that. I’m not sure if us asking a site to take down Brandon’s social media post would work.  I think we may have to ask B to ask them to remove it and I am not sure he’d be up for that.

 

**_Do any other feelings come up when you think of this story about you?_ **

 

Jesus writes, _ Worthless. _

 

Mariana writes, _ Trapped and hopeless. _

 

Fran writes, _ I hate special needs and I hate that story.  It makes me feel unlovable but I am not hard to love and Mari is not hard to love and Jesus is not hard to love.  I hope you are learning that ther. _

 

**_Parents, address and validate your child’s feelings individually:_ **

 

Lena writes: _Jesus, I never ever want you to feel worthless and I am so sorry that my sharing those pictures contributed to that feeling.  I hope that in taking them down you realize that I do care so much about how you feel._

 

Stef writes, _Jesus, I know you have experienced so much sharing without your consent and we are sorry about that and about any part we have played in that._

 

_ Mariana, I never want you to feel trapped or hopeless.  Maybe it will help knowing the website is gone and no one can ever read it again. _

 

Stef writes, _I agree with Mama.  Of course, we never want you to feel trapped or hopeless.  I wish you had come to us and let us know. There is no more website so nothing for you to worry about anymore._

 

_ Francesca, You are so right, you are not unlovable.  We are learning that here. And we are going to ask the website that published Brandon’s social media post to take it down. _

 

Stef writes, _Francesca, I am not sure what we can do to make Brandon’s post go away, but I can tell you that you are right.  You are not unlovable. I am so sorry the news made you feel like you were._


	173. Swiftly

Lena’s just finished getting coffee after the second day is over when Olivia catches her eye and waves her over.

 

“Hey.  Where is everyone else?” she asks as Stef joins them.

 

“Are we gonna get this show on the road or what?” Stef asks.  “Let’s see that email.”

 

“Rosa asked if you could meet us in her office,” Olivia explains.  She’s not her usual smiling self. Something must have happened. Maybe the email is really bad.

 

“Okay.  Lead the way,” Lena says, and they follow her across the parking lot and into a second building.

 

Rosa’s office is down a hall in a dimly lit room with no windows.  Lena shivers, feeling a bit claustrophobic. Rosa’s lying on a long, leather couch with a towel over her eyes, blocking out whatever light remains.  Pablo is sitting nearby. Three more empty chairs occupy the space, but no one sits behind the desk.

 

“They’re here,” Pablo says softly.

 

“Are you okay?” Lena asks.  “Did something happen?”

 

Lena looks at Stef who’s smiling slightly, an unfortunate sign that she’s feeling uncomfortable because it makes others feel they’re being laughed at.  She’s glad Rosa can’t see it. Pablo and Olivia’s own faces are grim.

 

Rosa thrusts one hand out, and it’s then that Lena can see she’s holding something.  Their answers back to Mariana after Rosa’s session. “I’m not giving this to Mariana.  Do it over.”

 

“Excuse me?” Stef asks, insulted.  “I thought we were here to talk about an email.”

 

“You’re seriously asking what happened right now?” Pablo asks softly.  “What happened is you guys being totally disrespectful today.”

 

Lena feels her stomach clench. Being the principal herself, and never having been in trouble as a child, she’s pretty sure this is what kids mean when they reference feeling like they have been sent to the principal’s office.

 

But Stef is still smiling.  Lena shakes her head, trying to let Stef know she has to stop it or she’ll get them kicked out.

 

“You’re kidding, right?” Stef asks.  “We’re not kids.”

 

“No, I’m not kidding,” Pablo says.

 

Olivia takes the papers from Rosa and pulls paper closer to her on the desk.  She gets a pen and starts to write.

 

“We can’t coddle you anymore,” Pablo says and Lena blinks.  “You disrespect Rosa, you are disrespecting all of us. We are your teachers, not your kids (who deserve the same respect we do.)  This is not like at home where you can roll over them to make them do what you want.”

 

“So...what do we do then?” Stef asks.  She’s finally lost the smile.

 

“Consider this your warning,” Pablo says simply.  “We are at a crossroads here. Where you can either decide to stay and learn, or you can waste your money and go home, learning almost nothing.  You go home and stay the same.”

 

He pauses meaningfully.

 

“But if you stay?  You show Rosa the respect that she deserves.  She’s one with the most years of experience living with disability, especially with a TBI.  If you stay, you rewrite the answers to Mariana.”

 

For the first time, Olivia speaks up.

 

“What if you wrote what Mariana did to your own parents?  And what if they responded to you the way you did to her? How would you feel?” Olivia wonders.  

 

“What do you mean?” Stef asks.

 

“If you were asked what you would want from your parents if you could have anything?  And you said,  _ unconditional love and support _ .  Now imagine that in response, your parents said, ‘ _ I know you’re jealous of your sibling or your friends but we can’t parent you exactly like them.  You need different parents _ .’”

 

“I’d hear, ‘I don’t deserve unconditional love and support…’ Lena realizes.

 

Stef clears her throat.  “I need some air,” she says and leaves abruptly.

 

“I want to stay,” Lena says apologetically.  “Stef does, too. She just...needs time.”

 

“Well, do what you have to do.  But we need a decision. Soon,” Pablo urges.

 

\--

 

It takes some time for Stef to come back to Rosa’s office and when she does, Rosa detects a change in her.  She sounds fragile. Stuffy. Like she’s been crying.

 

It annoys Rosa.

 

Not for the reasons Stef likely believes.  She’s not heartless. But how many times must a nondisabled parent’s feelings supersede disabled people’s actual safety?  Rosa just got done telling them how much stamina it takes to do this workshop and neither one of them had qualms about turning it into some sparring session instead. Where they just countered every single point she made with doubts and judgement.

 

She knows it took hearing the exact same thing from Roman to get them to even think about reconsidering their attitudes.  And that’s just demoralizing. She’s glad Roman’s here and willing and that someone is able to get through to them, but it’s so tiring and dehumanizing and just everything to constantly be treated like you have no worth at all.

 

“I’d like to stay,” Stef says.  “I didn’t have the best relationship with my father and…”

 

“You don’t owe us your life story,” Olivia cuts her off, and Rosa wants to cheer.  Hug Olivia. But both those things would take too much energy. “So...to recap…” Olivia says.  “Mariana is a human. More than that, she’s a human you have promised to love and protect and cherish.  She needs that. So reach down deep inside, past whatever preconceived ideas you have about her post-injury and remember that, when you write to her.”

 

Rosa can hear a brief intake of air and then Stef.  “Wait, we’re… Okay. Yes, we’ll do that.”

 

From the couch, Rosa lets out a breath of her own.

 

\--

 

**_What are some things you want your parents to know?_ **

 

Mariana writes, _ That I’m not gone.  That I’m not a child. I found the website. _

 

**_Parents, write a response to your child, factoring in what you’ve learned today:_ **

 

Stef and Lena write _ , Mariana, We are so sorry we have treated you like you’re gone.  And like you are a child. We know you’re still 23. You’re still here. We are so glad you’re still here.  I wish you could forget anything you read on that site. We never wanted you to find it. We are learning that we never should have made it in the first place. _

 

**_When you are at your limit, what do you need from your parents?_ **

 

Mariana writes, _ Understand that I am done.  Let me take a break. (Quiet. Dark.) Don’t guilt me about it later. _

 

**_Parent, write a response to your child, factoring in what you’ve learned today:_ **

 

Stef and Lena write, _ When you need a break we will respect that and give you space.  We won’t make you feel bad about it later. _

 

**_If you could have anything from your parents, what would it be?_ **

 

Mariana writes, _ Remember the parents you were for Jesus?  Be that for me. And Fran. We deserve all the love and understanding you gave him. _

 

**_Parent, write a response to your child’s answer:_ **

 

Stef and Lena write, _ Mariana, we are so sorry.  You deserve all the unconditional support and love that we gave Jesus.  So does Fran. We will do better in the future at treating you with the same consideration we treated Jesus with. _

 

\--

 

“These look better, Rosa,” Olivia says, once Stef and Lena are done writing.

 

“Read them for me?  Slowly?” Rosa asks.

 

She’s surprised when Stef does.

 

“Yes.  That is better,” Rosa confirms.  “Sarah also mentioned she was concerned with your answers…” 

 

“I was going to ask if we could have those back, too?” Lena wonders. “We didn’t really take the kids at their word regarding our part in objectifying them.  We didn’t believe them, like you were saying? I’d like to try again, if we can?”

 

Rosa nods.

 

Olivia hands them out again.

 

\--

 

**_Have you ever been included in a media story that made you feel objectified?  (Not like a person?)_ **

 

Jesus writes, _ Yes, do one Google search on me and you will find so many results about how amazing Moms are for dealing w me now.  Photo controversy last year. _

 

Mariana writes, _ Yes, the website was all about how hard I made your lives.  How hard I would be / am to love because of my TBI. _

 

Fran writes, _ Yes, Brandon told every one that I am special needs and Moms are great because they include me in the family and love me.  _

 

**_Parents, did you have a part in the objectification of your children?  If so, how can you remedy the situations your children have brought to your attention?_ **

 

Lena and Stef write, _ We promise not to post anything about any of you without asking first and hearing yes.  We will talk to Brandon about taking down his status and about talking to the news outlet who published it, so it is no longer circulating. _

 

**_Do any other feelings come up when you think of this story about you?_ **

 

Jesus writes, _ Worthless. _

 

Mariana writes, _ Trapped and hopeless. _

 

Fran writes, _ I hate special needs and I hate that story.  It makes me feel unlovable but I am not hard to love and Mari is not hard to love and Jesus is not hard to love.  I hope you are learning that ther. _

 

**_Parents, address and validate your child’s feelings individually:_ **

 

Stef and Lena write: _Jesus, we never want you to feel worthless.  You are so priceless to us and we are so glad you are back with us.  We are so sorry that we have shared pictures without your consent. We promise we will not do that in the future._

 

Lena and Stef write, _Mariana, we never want you to feel trapped or hopeless and we are so sorry that we made the grave error in judgement to create a site like that and make it public.  It has been removed and we will never do that to you again. We understand it will take some time for you to trust us on this._

 

Stef and Lena write, _Francesca, You are so right!  You are not unlovable and we are so sorry we have treated you (and Mari and Jesus) like you are.  That was not right of us to do. We will make sure Brandon takes down that Facebook status and talks to whoever published it, so it can be taken down.  We are sorry we didn’t listen when you tried to tell us you didn’t like what he said. (We will not say the term you hate anymore.)_

 

_ \-- _

 

“These look good.  I’ll make sure Sarah gets them,” Pablo agrees, after he reads them slowly out loud for Rosa.  

 

Then, Pablo has to take a deep breath, because things are about to get real and he doesn’t know if Stef and Lena are ready for it.  “I need to know that both of you are clear about how the rest of this week is gonna go. You’re here to learn--”

 

“--not debate--” Rosa interjects.

 

“Right, it’s not a time for debating us, or claiming you know better.  Because on this, you don’t. How you’d treat your teachers at school? That’s how you treat us.  Or you’re gonna be asked to leave. If we see something problematic, we will call you on it. So be ready for that. Be ready to learn to adapt what you’re doing.  That’s something we’re pros at, and so are your kids.”

 

“Gotcha,” Stef says.

 

Pablo squints at her.

 

“She means, we understand,” Lena corrects.

 

“So, you’re staying and you’re agreeing that the attitudes are gonna go?” Pablo checks.

 

“Absolutely,” Stef nods.  “I’m not wasting my money.”

 

“Yes,” Lena agrees, giving Stef a look.

 

Pablo isn’t so sure, especially hearing Stef’s reasons.  

 

“So, next thing,” he begins.  “Jesus messaged me this afternoon to tell me he went over family expectations with you?  Things you guys have broken with all of them in the past. He wanted to make sure all of us knew, so I shared with Rosa and Olivia as well.”

 

“There’s absolutely no way that violence or vile language, nonconsensual touching or coming into people’s space will happen tomorrow,” Olivia tells them, sounding braver than usual.  “We’re concerned these things have happened at all, but not surprised. We all remember the privilege walk. Just how high the probability is of disabled kids being abused. But part of what we’re doing here is striving to change that, so parents know that having disabled kids doesn’t mean you get to harm them when you’re frustrated.”

 

“Do you agree to the expectations?” Rosa asks.

 

“We do,” Stef and Lena chorus.

 

“You won’t get a third strike.  This is it,” Rosa warns. “No disrespecting us.  No disrespecting any other staff. Or your kids. Any of those things happen, even one more time, and you’re out the door.”

 

“We understand,” Lena repeats.

 

“Fully understand,” Stef nods.  “From now on, you’re our bosses.”

 

“Thank you.  Yes, we are,” Pablo says.

 

“We will listen to whatever you say.  All of you,” Lena amends.  

 

“That’s the best idea you’ve ever had in your life,” Pablo confirms.

 

“The email…” Rosa reminds.

 

“Right.  Jesus, Mariana and Francesca emailed you back via NAU last night.  We have that email. They wanted to be sure that we were aware of everything they wrote so you couldn’t deny it, or respond without us,” Olivia explains, handing them a copy.

 

There’s quiet as they read:

 

_ Hey Moms, _

 

_ We are fine, but a little skeptical.  You could have maybe known for free that you had more privilege than us if you listened to us.  If you noticed how people act when we go out. We may not have used the word ableism but we tell you when something hurts us.  You haven’t defended us before. How do we know you really will now? _

 

_ Trust is not as easy as opening communication like it’s a door and expecting we all will walk through.  It’s never been safe to say what’s bothering us. What will happen now if we do? Will you listen? Or tell us everything we should do differently so whatever happened doesn’t happen again?  Or tell us to ignore it? _

 

_ And how are we?  Well… _

 

_ Jesus: I’m skeptical.  Like I said. _

 

_ Mariana: I’m...that, too. _

 

_ Fran: I think your email was too nice to be real. _

 

_ From, Jesus, Mariana and Fran _

 

\--

 

Lena breathes and tries to keep her own tears at bay.  Reading these words from their own kids is devastating.  But she thinks back, especially over recent months. Tries to look at situations from their perspective, like Olivia urged, and Lena is mortified.  

 

It’s clear why they don’t trust her and Stef, but how will they go about building that?  Like the kids said, it’s not as simple as opening a door and expecting them to walk through it.

 

She glances up.  “Any suggestions?”

 

“Be honest,” Olivia offers.

 

So, Lena begins typing their own response:

 

_ Dear Jesus, Mariana and Francesca, _

 

_ Mom and I got in some trouble today at the workshop because we didn’t respect Rosa, or Oliver, who was also there to talk to us about TBIs.  We were asked if we wanted to stay and learn or leave and stay the same. We want to stay and learn. You guys are too important not to do that. _

 

_ We are realizing we have a lot of prejudices and ableism to work through.  We are sorry we have not listened to you about what’s hurt you and have not defended you. _

 

_ We are surprised to hear you say it has never been safe for you to tell us what’s bothering you.  And we are so sorry. If you tell us, from now on, we will do our best to listen and believe you. To protect and defend you, because that’s what parents do. _

 

_ We hear that you’re skeptical and you have every reason to be.  Know that we are trying our very best to improve ourselves and be better parents for all of you.  All of the family expectations will be in place tomorrow (and at home, too.) Pablo talked to us about this, too. _

 

_ We love you all so much. _

 

_ Love,  _

_ Moms _


	174. Out of My Soul

The drive home is quiet.  Stef drives and Lena does the thing that she does best.  She waits. But not impatiently. She’s on her phone a little.  Looking out the window a little.  

 

Somehow she just knows not to try to hold Stef’s hand.

 

“What Olivia said about...what if we had written to our parents about wanting unconditional love and support?” Stef starts out, focused on the road.

 

“Mm-hmm,” Lena answers, setting her phone aside.

 

“My dad never gave me that.  Ever. We got along when I was a kid.  He took me to Padres games. Taught me to shoot.  Called me his favorite daughter. But we both knew it was because I was the one he got.  He didn’t cherish me, Lena. He settled for me.”

 

Lena doesn’t say anything yet, and it’s because of that that Stef can keep talking.

 

“I know I’ve told you the story?  From high school? Dad catching Tess and me cuddling on the couch?  How he sent me to the youth minister?”

 

“The one who told you you were going to hell at fifteen,” Lena nods, sympathetic.

 

“Charming,” Stef fills in, sarcastic.  She swallows her tears. “Right, so that happened.  And I just...remembered...when Olivia said that? When Rosa was saying we should rewrite our answers?”

 

“Mm-hmm?” Lena asks.

 

“I was remembering how my dad...never spoke to me about Tess.  He never asked me one question. Years later, I spoke to him about it...just before he died...and he claimed to have no idea why I stopped going to church.  No idea that I’d been completely humiliated.”

 

Lena’s quiet, still listening.

 

“It made me realize...you know...I don’t wanna be that kind of parent to our kids.  The one who never talks to them about important things. The one who doesn’t ask them questions because I’m too uncomfortable.  Who stays clueless until I’m on my deathbed. I wanna do better. I wanna be a better parent than I had.”

 

“I want that, too.  For me. For us,” Lena confirms.

 

“I just feel...so angry at myself.  I never wanted to become him, Lena. And here I am.  Treating my kids the exact same way he treated me. Worse, in some instances, because...I guess I’ve thought that a lot of the stuff they actually can’t help...they were doing on purpose.”

 

“Me, too,” Lena confirms.  “Francesca always walking slowly when I tell her to hurry up.  If Olivia hadn’t explained that one, I would still be on her about it.”

 

“Or Rosa all laid out like that?” Stef recalls.

 

“I felt awful about that,” Lena confirms.

 

“Right, but I mean...it’s been twenty years, she said.  And that’s just something she apparently needs to do. I can tell you exactly how I’ve handled similar situations with Mariana,” Stef says.  “I follow her, question her, keep pushing her. Ignoring her limits and then when she breaks, I punish her by leaving her. Sometimes I even confiscated her stuff…”

 

“...Because we thought...when she was destroying a room, it was intentional,” Lena realizes.  “Manipulative.”

 

“Because all I’ve ever experienced of disability prior to the kids was temporary.  I got shot at work. I worked hard and I recovered. I had a double-mastectomy. It sucked.  But I did the rehab and I got better. But what if you  _ can’t _ get better?  What if they really are doing all they can right now?”

 

“Right,” Lena confirms.  “Rosa and Oliver? They were gone for  _ forty-five minutes _ while we were talking to Mr. Santanos.  When we went to apologize to them, his hand was wrapped and she looked like she’d been crying.  Giving them the benefit of the doubt - giving  _ Mari _ the benefit of the doubt - means accepting that this might just be what happens when they’re pushed past what they can handle…  But I probably would have always assumed it was just a Mariana thing, if not for seeing Rosa and Oliver the same way.”

 

“So, we need to listen to her.  To all of them,” Stef amends. “But especially to Mariana.  It’s just been so hard. I’ve been...upset with her.”

 

“I know,” Lena nods.

 

“Felt like a big slap in the face to learn not only was she drunk but she accelerated on an empty road at 3 AM and hit a tree.  She was trying to…” Stef trails off, shaking her head.

 

“I’ve never asked her what was going on,” Lena muses.

 

“I just assumed she didn’t remember,” Stef admits.

 

“Maybe we should,” Lena suggests.  “Maybe it’s not about us at all…”

 

“If she really can’t get better, like Rosa’s saying.  Like everyone in there is saying...then what are we doing to her by continuing to push her like this?  And even Fran, to a lesser extent? Is this our version of locking them in some room and humiliating them until they stop making ‘wrong’ choices?” Stef asks, talking fast.  “That’s what my dad told me. He wanted to stop me from making ‘wrong’ choices. But being gay isn’t wrong. And it’s not a choice.”

 

“Neither is being disabled,” Lena says, leaning back in her seat, looking stunned and intrigued at the realization.

 

“I suppose if you couldn’t get better, you’d have to adapt, or hate yourself,” Stef muses.  “Love, I think that’s what all the speakers have been saying to us for the past two days.”

 

“That’s what we’re doing to them,” Lena says softly.  

 

“What?” Stef asks.

 

“If we don’t change how we parent them...expecting them to do things our way when they’re not like us?  We’re helping them hate themselves,” Lena muses. “I know. I didn’t have such a volatile relationship with my parents but I  _ did _ grow up in a family where not one person looked like me.  Where they understood pieces of my identity but not the whole of who I was.  I know what it’s like to have a parent criticize you for things you can’t help.  I’m afraid we’re doing much worse than that to our kids.”

 

By now, Stef has pulled into the driveway.  She’s studying the railing that Jesus and Pearl’s little brother (Levi?) put in a few days ago.

 

“We need to ask them questions.”  Stef stops to think and then comments more quietly.  “I should really just start a new philosophy where I ask myself, ‘ _ How would my parents have handled this? _ ’ and then do the opposite.”

 

“That sounds great, and I think we should probably start with one question,” Lena says.  “Go slowly.”

 

“Right.  We don’t want to scare them,” Stef nods.

 

She opens up a new conversation on Messenger:

 

**Lena, Mariana, Jesus, Francesca**

 

**_Stef:_ **

_ How can we help you love yourselves? _

 

\--

 

“B?  Hey. It’s Mom.”

 

“I know.  What’s up?  Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, fine.  Why?”

 

“You sound upset.”

 

“Ah.  Well, I am a little.  Mama and I are doing some work on ourselves.  It’s not easy.”

 

“Okay…”

 

“I need you to take down the Facebook notice where you wrote defending us about posting those pictures of Jesus and Mariana.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I just need you to do it, please.  And I need you to get in touch with whoever published it and ask them to take it down.”

 

“Why does you and Mama working on yourselves have to impact me?  I didn’t do anything wrong.”

 

“What you wrote hurt your brother and sisters.”

 

“Like you and Mama have never done that.”

 

“You’re right.  And we’re going to do our part, too.  Take down whatever we know hurts you guys.”

 

“Just because Francesca doesn’t want to face reality doesn’t mean I should have to take down what I said.  I stand by that. You’re good parents.”

 

“Thank you, B.  But I don’t want you to stand by us in this.  We were wrong to post those pictures. And we should have made it right instead of putting you in a position where you felt like you had to defend us.”

 

“I don’t get you.  But, you know what?  Fine. I’ll find it and take it down.  Because I respect you.”

 

“Thank you.  Don’t get on Francesca or Jesus or Mariana about this.  It’s not their fault.”

 

“Fine.  Whatever.  There, I deleted the status.  I don’t know what I can do about the article, but I’ll find it and see about contacting someone.”

 

“Thank you.  I love you, B.”

 

“Love you, too.”

 

\--

 

Mariana’s officially worried now.  

 

She’s read the email from Moms and knows that they’ve gotten their asses handed to them today.  Something happened with Rosa and another speaker. Now, any time she tries to contact Rosa, she gets no response:

 

_ NoSecretAnymor Hey, how was it w our parents?   _

 

_ NoSecretAnymor Sorry they’re terrible.   _

 

_ NoSecretAnymor You okay? _

 

Calls go straight to voicemail, and Mariana can’t find words to leave a message.

 

“Hey.  Can you...call your person or whatever?” Mariana asks Jesus.

 

“Val?” Jesus asks, confused.

 

“No, your team person?  Moms emailed and...said they got in trouble or whatever?  Rosa’s not answering. I’m freaking out.”

 

“Yeah.  Yeah, I can message Pablo.  Hang on,” Jesus says and opens a new DM:

 

_ ItsHeyZeus Hey, Mari’s trying to reach Rosa.  Sounds like there was some trouble w Moms? Is R okay? _

 

_ PabloPerez Hey Jesus.  Rosa will prob get back to returning calls and messages tomorrow.  Just needs a break right now. See you tomorrow. _

 

_ ItsHeyZeus Yeah, see ya.  Thanks. _

 

“Okay, so…  Rosa’s fine.  I think. She’s taking a break and she’ll be able to probably get back to you tomorrow.  But you said we got an email? Can you please let me know this stuff?” he asks.

 

“Sorry.  Just used to...holding it in...I guess,” Mari apologizes.

 

“I get it.  But you don’t have to with us.  Hey, Fran? Moms emailed. Do you wanna hear it or no?”

 

“Just...what the hell did they do to Rosa?  It’s been two days!” Mariana whispers.

 

“I know,” Jesus nods, looking concerned.

 

Fran comes out of the spare room.  There’s pen ink on the side of her hand.  She’s been journaling. Mariana’s glad.

 

“Yes!  And, Moms made a Facebook - oops I mean, a  _ Messenger  _ group -” Fran corrects sending a worried look Jesus’s way.  But he just nods and Fran continues: “The group has just them and us three.  They asked one question, and I answered it.”

 

“What was it?  Are you okay?” Mariana asks.

 

“It was like,  _ How can we help you feel loved _ or something?  Or no. Love ourselves.   _ How can we help you love yourselves? _   That’s what it was!”

 

“What did you say?” Jesus asks, curious.

 

Fran shrugs.  “Love us.”

 

“Good answer,” Mariana breathes, impressed.

 

“Thank you,” Francesca sits in Mariana’s lap while Jesus gets the email ready.  “You guys really need to check your phones more often.”

 

Mariana shushes her gently as Jesus starts to read:

 

_ “Dear Jesus, Mariana and Francesca, _

 

_ “Mom and I got in some trouble today--”  _ Jesus gets cut off almost immediately.

 

“Oooh…” Fran breathes.  “Moms got  _ in trouble _ , you guys!  What do you think they did?”

 

“I don’t know,” Mariana answers, one of her old standbys, because listening to Jesus read this email doesn’t qualify is low-stress.

 

“Oh, I have a pretty good idea, but let’s keep reading and see…” Jesus suggests.  “ _ Mom and I got in some trouble today at the workshop because we didn’t respect Rosa, or Oliver, who was also there to talk to us about TBIs.” _

 

“Just like you, Mari,” Fran points out, turning around.

 

“Yeah,” she sighs.  “Just like me. Figures they wouldn’t listen to anybody like me…”

 

“Well, they should.  You give great advice and you take good care of people,” Fran decides, settling back against Mariana.

 

Mariana’s touched, but no words can make their way out.  So she just gives Fran a squeeze.

 

Jesus continues:  _ “We were asked if we wanted to stay and learn or leave and stay the same.  We want to stay and learn. You guys are too important not to do that. _ ”  Pausing, Jesus scoffs.  “Right. They just don’t wanna look like asses.  They don’t wanna waste their money…”

 

“They never say we’re important,” Fran observes.  “Jesus is right, I think. Don’t you think, Mari?”

 

Mariana nods.  What else are they supposed to think?  No one can do a complete 180 in two days.

 

_ “We are realizing we have a lot of prejudices and ableism to work through.  We are sorry we have not listened to you about what’s hurt you and have not defended you,”  _ Jesus reads.  “Well, it’s about time.”

 

“Right?” Mariana asks.  

 

“They can be sorry and not change, though…” Fran warns.

 

Mariana knows she’s right.

 

_ “We are surprised to hear you say it has never been safe for you to tell us what’s bothering you.”   _ Jesus pauses.  “Why? That should literally not be a surprise to them.  Even when we were kids, we couldn’t really trust them with what was on our minds.  Sometimes, but not all the time,” Jesus remembers.

 

“It’s like that now.  They listen sometimes, and sometimes they just gloss it over like ignore it and sometimes they get super mad.  Right, Mari?” Fran asks.

 

“Mmm.  Right,” Mariana confirms. __

 

“ _ And we are so sorry.  If you tell us, from now on, we will do our best to listen and believe you.  To protect and defend you, because that’s what parents do.” _ Jesus pauses again and closes his eyes.  “Right. Just randomly. You’re just randomly gonna start listening and believing us?  Protecting and defending us? I bet they had them sign something. That’s the only way they agree to this kind of thing…” Jesus rants quietly.

 

“What?”  Fran asks.  “What do you mean?”

 

“Sorry, Fran.  I shouldn’t be talking like this in front of you,” Jesus apologizes.  “It’s just...when I was younger...Moms did protect me sometimes, but it was usually when we wrote something up in therapy with Dr. H. about what I needed, and then all of us signed it.  Then they’d do it.”

 

“So, maybe Olivia made them sign something!” Fran pipes up gleefully.  “That’s good news!”

 

“Let’s let Jesus do this, so we can write them back if we want to,” Mariana encourages.

 

_ “We hear that you’re skeptical and you have every reason to be.  Know that we are trying our very best to improve ourselves and be better parents for all of you.  All of the family expectations will be in place tomorrow (and at home, too.) Pablo talked to us about this, too. _

 

_ We love you all so much.  Love, Moms,”  _ Jesus finishes.

 

“I want to write them back,” Fran exclaims.

 

“And say what?” Jesus wonders.

 

“I’m so glad they got in trouble finally,” Fran shares, unapologetic.

 

“Yeah?  Why is that?” Jesus asks, no judgement.  

 

“Because maybe they’ll finally get that it’s wrong.  How they’re treating us,” Fran pauses, thoughtful. “Wait, though.  Do you think that would make them mad?”

 

“I don’t know,” Mariana offers.  “And are we still going tomorrow?” 

 

“Are we all still in?” Jesus asks.  

 

“I am, because I want to meet Olivia,” Fran says.

 

“Same.  I wanna meet Rosa,” Mariana nods.

 

“Okay.  And I definitely don’t want you two going alone, and I wanna hang with Pablo, so...I guess that’s it?  We’re all going then. Unless one of us changes our minds. I did remind them about the expectations. Moms and the team.  So everybody knows Moms aren’t allowed to treat us bad and whatever. Pablo said there’s a break room free that we can use to talk to Moms and them.  We can come in the back way and if we wanna leave, one of them will go with us.”

 

“Sounds good,” Mariana says.  (It actually sounds like a ton of information all at once, but she gets the gist that it’s good and accommodation-y.)  “Whatever we do say to Moms, though? We should, like...know…”

 

“...We’re gonna see them tomorrow, yeah,” Jesus says, reading her mind.

 

“It’s so cool when you guys twinbrain,” Fran gushes.  “I wish I had a twin.”

 

“It’s pretty cool,” Jesus nods.  “So, are we writing them back, or what?”

 

\--

 

_ Moms, _

 

_ Still skeptical but we are glad to hear you got in trouble.  It is not okay how you treat us and people like us. We hope you said you were sorry to Rosa and that she still wants to be there tomorrow.   _

 

_ We will be there, but if any crossing boundaries happens we are out. _

 

_ P.S. We dig the Questionger (question-messenger) _

 

_ Jesus, Mari & Fran _


	175. Save You

Six-thirty in the morning comes far too early.  Especially since Stef and Lena spent hours after they got home just talking to each other.  Processing and reprocessing different moments they’d each had with the kids. Lena’s started going through all of her social media.  Her Instagram was the only account that was free of terrible oversharing.

 

She’d done something pretty drastic.  But this situation called for drastic measures.  She deleted her Facebook and Twitter accounts. Instagram Lena felt fairly confident she could keep (because it had always been just for her - pictures of funny things she or Stef wrote on the chalkboard, pictures of cute things she found out shopping, etc.)

 

She also added Callie back and sent an apology via Direct Message:

 

**LenaShopsALot @ EyeOfTheBeholder:**

_ Callie,  So sorry I unfollowed you.  I am so proud of you for defending Mariana and Jesus and doing what you know is right.  Mom and I are spending this week doing some real work on ourselves. I love you. _

 

This morning, there’s a response:

 

**EyeOfTheBeholder @ LenaShopsALot**

_ That’s awesome.  I’m proud of you both. _

 

But it’s when Lena sees Francesca’s response to Stef’s question in their new Messenger group that Lena is poking Stef awake impatiently.

 

“Stef.  Fran responded.  You’re going to want to see this,” Lena urges.

 

Muttering and rolling over, Stef clears her throat and grabs her glasses, squinting.  Instantly, her hand is over her heart and she’s swallowing. “Why would you show me this?”

 

“Because she said  _ Love us _ ,” Lena says, bright-eyed herself.  “That means they haven’t felt loved by us.”

 

“God, I’m so glad we get to see them today.  Glad and terrified. God, what do I wear?” Stef asks, getting out of bed.

 

“I don’t think the kids care, honey.  Just wear your regular clothes,” Lena urges.  

 

But then Lena’s definitely the one who’s taking out the pink hooded sweatshirt with the silky edges - a gift from Mariana - and pulling it on over her Where The Wild Things Are tee shirt.  Lena adds comfy yoga pants and a LOVE pin from Fran to complete the look and then turns her attention to the rest of her.

 

“Oh, but you don’t think the kids will care,” Stef chides gently.  (She’s settled on a favorite comfortable sweatshirt with NEVERTHELESS, SHE PERSISTED in tiny white script over the right chest, and black jeans.)  

 

Lena’s taking a while, giving Stef a once-over.

 

“What?  I want the kids to know I’m not giving up.  That I’m serious. And the shirt’s a good reminder to me, when I want to throw in the towel.”

 

“Well, good then.  We ought to grab some breakfast and get on the road,” Lena urges.

 

\--

 

Rosa still feels exhausted and hell-like  on Wednesday morning. She thought about not coming in at all.  But it’s Family Day, and she’s got to be here.

 

She’s barely come in the doors when Jonah hurries up to her, concerned.

 

“Rosa.  Can I talk to you?” he asks.

 

She pulls up a chair and discreetly checks her phone for the time.  Only fifteen minutes until his session. “What’s up? Are you nervous?” she asks.

 

“Yes.  My mom’s fine with what I’m sharing, but…  What if my dad… If he somehow finds out what I’m talking about?” Jonah worries, his blue eyes serious behind his glasses.

 

“Did he find out last year?” Rosa asks.

 

“No.  He didn’t.  But what if someone’s recording when they shouldn’t be...or...I don’t know…  What if he just shows up?”

 

“Has he before?” Rosa asks.

 

“No, but...I mean, all it would take is one time…” Jonah shares, nervous.

 

Rosa tries to think through her foggy mind and her splitting headache.  She knows it’s important - vital - to respond to Jonah’s fear. To validate it.  For him to feel protected. Giving the speech is… It can happen or not. The important thing is Jonah and his safety here.

 

“So...what do you say...we put some of the dads from here back by the doors so you can see them?”

 

“By all the doors?” Jonah asks.  “There are three,” he adds.

 

And Rosa’s heart twinges at this fourteen-year-old child knowing just how many entrances and exits their main room has...and why he knows this exactly.

 

“Right.  So...what do you say…  We ask...Koa, Mark and Sylvan to guard the doors for you while you speak?” Rosa asks.

 

“Yes.  Oh. Can Koa have a chair in case he needs to sit down?” Jonah asks.

 

“Of course he can,” Rosa nods and texts Koa and Sylvan to ask how they’d feel about guarding Jonah.  Luckily, Mark walks in just about then, so Jonah just can ask him in person.

 

“Sure, of course, I can do that for you, buddy.  Don’t worry. We won’t let anybody in while you’re talking,” Mark reassures and Jonah visibly relaxes.  Rosa often forgets that Mark’s Jonah’s uncle.  

 

Koa and Sylvan are on board as well.

 

“Thank you.  For making sure I’m protected,” Jonah says.

 

“You’re very welcome.  Do you still feel safe giving your speech?  Or would you rather one of the understudies took over?” Rosa asks, realizing belatedly that understudy is a theater term.  Not a work term. She’s not in high school anymore. Damn, her brain’s annoying today.

 

“Yes.  I feel safe now.  Are you okay? I know those moms were….” Jonah trails off, wavering his hand back and forth and stage whispers, “pretty terrible.”

 

“They were, but I’m hanging in there,” Rosa reassures.

 

“But do you want anything?  A hug? Some coffee?” Jonah offers.

 

“I’ll take a hug, sure,” Rosa smiles and embraces him.  “You are going to do so great up there,” she whispers. “You have every right to tell what happened to you.  Every right. He cannot hurt you.”

 

“Whew,” Jonah says, taking off his glasses and wiping his eyes.  “Okay. Thank you. My mom… She might come up with me? Just for moral support?  You know like Corbin’s mom?”

 

“That’s great.  We love for you to have all the support you need,” Rosa reassures.

 

Jonah glances at his phone.  “Okay, well, I should go and get ready…” he says.  “See you in there? Or I can tell you about it if you need to rest?”

 

“No, I’ll see you in there,” Rosa promises.

 

“Okay,” Jonah smiles and heads inside.

 

\--

 

Really, speaking in front of a hundred people or so isn’t a big deal.  Not compared to other stuff Jonah’s dealt with in his life. Medical stuff.  Life stuff. And it’s not the hundred people he’s worried about. It’s one person.

 

Rosa asked if his dad had ever come to his speeches before, and he hasn’t.  But the thing is? Most of the stuff that happened to Jonah and his mom? Only ever happened the way it did one time.

 

So Jonah knows that’s really all it takes.

 

But it does help to see Hope’s husband, Sylvan standing by the main doors.  He’s tall like a massive tree, but he has a kind face and a smile that Jonah’s dad almost never wore.

 

Jonah checks out the other two doors, one on each side of the room.  One leads to a hallway - Mark’s guarding that one - Jonah goes over and gives him a hug.  And Koa is in front of the door that will be to Jonah’s left - he waves and calls out “Hi, thanks,” in Koa’s direction.

 

Then Jonah bows his head and prays silently - that he can be brave, that God can use his words to impact somebody to treat their child better - and then says “Amen” and it’s time to begin.

 

People are gathered and some look at him strangely for praying.  But this did used to be a church after all. And maybe God’s presence never really leaves.

 

\--

 

“My name is Jonah and I’m here to talk to you about Disability and Physical Abuse.  I know I’m young. I’m fourteen. But I already have a lot of experience with this topic, so please don’t doubt me.  Also, this is my mom, Anne.”

 

Mom waves.  

 

(She’s actually way better at giving speeches than Jonah, but she used to give all the speeches on this topic until last year.  When Jonah finally was old enough to give them.)

 

“Physical abuse is when someone harms someone else’s physical body.  This can mean a lot of things: Slapping, swatting, hitting, spanking.  But also kicking, punching, throwing things so they hit a person. Choking a person or even pulling their hair.”

 

Jonah can see people shifting restlessly in the audience.  They’re all adults. He’s positive they all already know what physical abuse is.  This introduction is more just for him. To get himself ready for what he has to say.

 

“When I was a baby until I was seven years old, I was hurt physically by a person in my family.  We’re safe from that person now, but sometimes I still get scared to talk about what happened. I get scared the person will find out.  Find me. Hurt me. For making that person look bad. For telling what they always said to never tell.”

 

“You’re safe,” Mom reassures softly.  “He doesn’t know we’re here, and you have all those people, even uncle Mark guarding the doors, making sure.”

 

Jonah nods.  Breathes.

 

“The person in my family…  There was a lot of grief because my older sibling died...so sometimes people don’t handle grief correctly.  Sometimes they lash out and hurt other people. That’s what happened to me. The person knew my mom couldn’t defend me physically so he took advantage of that.  The person used to hurt us and scare us.”

 

A brief look to Mom.  

 

“You’re doing great,” she reassures, flashing him a thumbs up.

 

“People always say...physical abuse isn’t as bad as other kinds of abuse.  But it is pretty bad. I didn’t have broken bones or bruises, but I was afraid all the time.  Felt vulnerable every day, even more than usual. And it took a long time for things to get worked out so I didn’t have to see the person anymore.”

 

“It’s really hard to live in a house where somebody hates you because you’re like the real live Boy Who Lived.  Living with real live Voldemort. I used to wish I was a wizard. Three years ago, I waited and waited for my official acceptance letter to a really famous wizard school.  Maybe you know it?” Jonah jokes, cracking a smile. “But anyway, I’m getting off track.”

 

“It’s really hard living in the same house with that energy.  With that person. Especially if that person is one who has all the power.  My mom’s in a chair, and so am I. Plus, I was just a little kid. There wasn’t really a way for us to defend ourselves at all.  It’s kind of a miracle we got out.”

 

“But anyway, I still get scared sometimes.  It was half my life ago - the last time I had to see this person.  The last time he hurt me. But look around at all the doors. See those guys?  Rosa offered to have them all guard the doors for me, because I got scared the person I’m talking about will find out I’m talking about what happened.  I got scared he’d come and hurt me and my mom. I still am.”

 

“I know, from listening to my mom that it’s so hard when your child gets hurt.  And it’s so hard thinking you maybe did something that hurt your child. But being brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared.  It doesn’t mean you stop before the hard part. ...I would give anything for the person who hurt me to… Not be here, exactly…  But if they would’ve learned and gotten better about how they dealt with their own stress. That would’ve just been great. And then I could’ve had them in my life.”

 

“You guys all have that chance right now.  So be brave, and read about what your kids shared.  If there was ever a time someone bigger than you hurt you?  Remember that when you write to your kids. They’re trusting you.  Don’t lose that. Thank you. You can come up and get your kids’ answers.”

 

Then, Jonah goes to his mom.  Then Mark. Then Koa. Then Sylvan.  He hugs each of them and says, “Thank you for being an adult I can trust.  Thank you for protecting me.”

 

\--

 

Lena braces herself.  She knows at least one of these answers is going to damn her.  But a glance at Stef’s shirt, and the message on it, has her taking a deep breath, drying her tears so she can see, and starting to read:

 

**_My name is Jonah.  I’m 14. My dad has hit me, thrown me, and pulled me to my feet by my clothes.  I felt scared and vulnerable. Have your parents ever hurt you like that? How did you feel?_ **

 

Fran writes _ , Lena slapped me in the face before.  My entire head moved and my face was all tingley. I felt like a tiny speck. _

 

Mariana writes, _ When I couldn’t express myself well yet, Stef slapped me for pushing her away from me.  My whole body (well half) body was pissed at me for a long time. Sensory issues. Felt the effects for a long time physically.  Longer emotionally. You would not listen, just overpowered me. Just like every damn one else. It makes me feel impotent. _

 

Jesus writes, _ They never hit me, but both held me down in a chair and force-fed me when I was 13.  They never told. I never told. I felt like I had never left. It felt the same as Before. _

 

**_Parent, if you did this, and only if you are 100% ready, apologize to your child and promise to keep working on yourselves so you will never hurt them again._ **

 

Lena writes, _ Francesca, I am so sorry for hitting you.  That was so wrong of me. I promise to keep working on myself and to not take my anger out on you again.  I never want you to feel like a tiny speck because you are so important to me and you matter so much. (There is a session about Disability and Adoption, and I am going to take lots of notes so we can talk about Timothy after, together.) _

 

Stef writes, _ Mariana, I should never have hit you.  I am so sorry I did. I should have listened and respected your communication you were able to give.  I promise to keep working on myself and my temper so I will not hurt you again. I can understand why my hitting you would make you feel impotent.  It can feel really vulnerable recovering from something and I should have known that. Even if not, I have no excuse. I knew better than to hurt you and I’m sorry.  I can’t say it enough. _

 

Lena and Stef write, _ Jesus, we are so sorry that we mishandled that situation so severely.  There is no excuse for our behavior. We will definitely keep working on ourselves so we will not hurt you or your sisters again, so you can all always feel as safe as possible with us. _


	176. When You're Gone

Coming out of Jonah’s session is like coming up for air after holding her breath for years - or at least - that’s how it feels to Stef.  God. How many of these kids have been hurt like this by parents who are just out of their depth?

 

“You know for each one of these instances, there are more,” Stef mutters lowly, wiping her eyes.

 

“Yup,” Lena nods, looking equally destroyed.

 

They’ve barely found solace, just out one of the side doors when Olivia approaches:

 

“Hey.  I know that session was intense.  Wanted to check in with you guys. Rosa’s kinda keeping a low profile today and Pablo has a session later, so you’re mostly going to have me this break.”

 

“Sounds good,” Lena says.

 

“I know from earlier conversations with Pablo that Jesus has mentioned the No Violence rule in your family has been broken in the past,” Olivia begins.

 

“It has,” Stef nods.

 

“By us,” Lena confirms.  She eyes the kids’ answers, then Stef and then Olivia.

 

“That’s fine.  Show her,” Stef nods.

 

“Okay, so…  Lena, do you remember this?” Olivia asks, indicating the answer Fran gave about being slapped because she mentioned Timothy.

 

“Yes, I do,” Lena answers.

 

“Okay.  Can I ask what caused you to react the way you did?  Specifically?” Olivia asks.

 

“Francesca wrote her spe-- her  _ biological father’s  _ last name as her own on a school assignment.”

 

“It was actually later,” Stef volunteers, soft.  “We were reading her the riot act about it. Because we found out she’d gone behind our backs...and met him.  And then...I told her she was our daughter and not his.”

 

“That’s right.  Then she screamed something about humans not being able to control other humans…” Lena breathes.  “That’s when it happened.”

 

“Okay, but it didn’t just happen,” Olivia points out.  “You made a choice here. So, own it.”

 

“That’s when I...slapped her,” Lena admits.

 

“What did that bring up in you?” Olivia wonders.  “What were you feeling?”

 

“Betrayed.”

 

“You were feeling betrayed.  Okay. What about...this instance with Mariana.  Stef, do you recall this?”

 

“I do, yeah.  I’d asked her to stay at the table and do therapy, and she kept standing up to leave.  I told her to sit down and she wouldn’t. She pushed me out of the way,” Stef remembers.

 

“How did you feel when Mariana pushed you?” Olivia asks.

 

“Angry,” Stef says.

 

“Would you say this was because maybe...you expected her to comply and she wasn’t?” Olivia asks.

 

“Absolutely,” Stef nods.

 

“And with your son…” Olivia says and Stef notices how they make a point to use Mariana and Fran’s names but not Jesus’s as he is the most well-known.  “Do you both remember this?”

 

“Yes,” they chorus.

 

“Okay.  Tell me about it,” Olivia urges.

 

“He’d just come home.  It’d been...maybe a week..because it was just us and him in the house together.  But, once we were alone? He wouldn’t eat. And he was small. Like, malnourished small, not just like a small kid,” Stef remembers.

 

“So, you were concerned that he wasn’t eating because he came home underweight,” Olivia reviews.

 

“We tried reassuring him.  We tried giving him different options.  But all he would do is stand behind his chair at meals and stare at the wall across from him.  We couldn’t get through to him, no matter what we said,” Lena continues.

 

“It’s not like it’s the first thing we tried - forcing him.  We went through other options, but none of them worked,” Stef insists.

 

“It was...I don’t remember the exact day…but it had been a couple meals where he hadn’t eaten, so we started trying to spoon-feed him, but he didn’t want that.  One of us would reassure and the other one would try to get him to open his mouth. He kept spitting,” Lena recalls.

 

“By dinner, we were desperate,” Stef takes over the story.  So, I held him in the chair and Lena got food into him whenever he opened his mouth.”

 

“Was he struggling?” Olivia asks.

 

“Yes, he was,” Stef answers.

 

“Showing signs of distress?” Olivia checks.

 

“Yes, absolutely,” Lena confirms.

 

“So, it’s safe to say he was not opening his mouth for your spoon?  More likely, he was fighting to get away? Maybe yelling?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You said you were feeling desperate…” Olivia ventures.  Any other feelings, Lena?”

 

“Powerless,” Lena confirms.

 

“Maybe I’m wrong here...but I think it’s possible that a common theme all of these instances have--”

 

“--is that we felt disrespected!” Stef realizes.

 

“Stef,” Lena whispers.  “Teacher etiquette. You can’t cut her off.”

 

“I’m sorry about that.  I shouldn’t have interrupted,” Stef manages, blushing and feeling about seven years old. “What were you saying?”   
  


“I was going to say that I think it’s possible that a common theme that all these instances have are that they’re moments when you felt deeply insecure for one reason or another.  Francesca insisting she’s her own person. Wanting information about another parent who isn’t you. Mariana reacting in a way that felt like it challenged your authority. Maybe Jesus for the same reason.”

 

“Maybe…” Lena muses.

 

“So, let’s talk about safe options to employ in those moments,” Olivia says.  “Your kids aren’t toddlers. You can walk away from them for a few minutes to collect yourself if needed.”

 

“Should we?”  I mean, isn’t that bad parenting?  Won’t it make them feel rejected?” Lena asks.

 

“If the other option is yelling at them, forcing them, or otherwise being physically violent with them then yes, you should.  So, walk away. Take deep breaths. Talk to them again when you’re calm.”

 

“And say what?  I think it’s safe to say we were at the end of our ropes in all of those instances.” Stef says.

 

“Okay.  Well what led up to that moment with Francesca?  Had she been asking a lot of questions about her biological father?”

 

“Yes, I suppose,” Lena admits.

 

“And what did you say?” Olivia asks.

 

“I didn’t...know what to say, so I told her we’d talk about it when she was older.” Lena says.

 

“Did this happen often?”

 

“A few times, at least before this last one?  Starting when she was about five,” Lena says.

 

“Okay, well, I’m not the expert on all things adoption.  That would be my brother.”

 

“Wait.  Oliver’s your…?” Stef asks.

 

“Yes.  So, I’ll let him talk to you guys about all that, but I can say that asking questions, conversational and open-ended questions?  Will help a lot more than accusing will. Think about if you didn’t know your father? But all your siblings did? Or if you didn’t have siblings, all your best friends did?  Might it make sense then that Francesca would have questions about hers?”

 

“Well, of course,” Lena nods.

 

“So, instead of getting intense about her writing his name on her paper, and / or asserting her right to be a human in her own right who doesn’t belong to anyone...what questions could you have asked?  If I’m Francesca and you found that paper in my bag, but instead you took a moment. Calmed down and realized this is about her.”

 

“How did she find out about him?” Stef asks.

 

“Open-ended,” Olivia reminds.  “So, what about...just saying _ ‘How are you feeling about your biological father?’” _

 

“I can’t just ask her how she feels about Timothy.  I’m not ready to hear that answer.”

 

“Lena,” Stef encourages.  “We said we’d listen.”

 

“Right,” Lena breathes.  “But we asked her why she wrote her name like that, and she said she did it because it  _ was _ her name.  It’s not. It never has been.”

 

“But she’s telling you something by writing it that way.  So maybe you could have followed it up with, ‘ _ Why do you say that? _ ’ or ‘ _ It sounds like you’re really curious? _ ’  Role-playing really does help.  I’ll be Francesca. And you be you, Lena.  Let’s try it. Get some practice in before it gets real.”

 

Stef watches Lena take a deep breath and say uncomfortably:

 

“Fran, I found this paper in your bag.  Why did you write your name like this?”

 

Olivia, as Fran, shrugs.  “It  _ is _ my name.”

 

“Is it?  Why do you say that?”

 

“I want it to be?” Olivia as Fran continues.

 

Stef can see Lena’s deer in the headlights look at Olivia’s last comment.

 

Olivia’s out of character for a moment and herself again as she advises Lena.  “Sometimes it can help, if you can’t think of a response, or you find yourself getting in over your head, to review what you’ve already heard.”

 

“So...I hear you saying...that you want Timothy’s last name to be your last name?  Is that right?”

 

“Yes!” Olivia cheers.  “The thing is to keep the conversation open, going, and easy.  Whatever you feel about what Fran’s talking about? Let her know what you feel _ for her. _ ”

 

“What if I’m disappointed in her?  Or hurt?” Lena presses.

 

“Well, Fran talking about her bio dad is about her.  Not you. What parents feel for their kids usually is...apparently is some parent feeling?  Unconditional positive regard? I don’t know it because I haven’t experienced it honestly, and I’m not a parent.  But I guess it lets your child know that no matter what, you love and accept them. So let her see that when she’s talking to you.” Olivia advises.

 

“What’s going on here?” Rosa asks lightly.

 

“Just a little role playing,” Olivia passes along.  

 

“I read Mariana’s answer,” Rosa says and Stef can’t read her tone, as hard as she tries.  “Are you open to playing this out with me?”

 

“...Yes?” Stef asks, confused.  She has no idea what playing this out will mean.

 

Olivia catches Rosa up on the scenario and Rosa takes her time before she responds.  “Since my session yesterday...what do you think a better response would have been when Mariana stood up?”

 

“To let her go?” Stef asks.

 

“Ask a yes or no question, like, ‘ _ Do you need a break?’ _ ”  Rosa cues.  “Then, when she nods, you let her go.  Create opportunities for her to communicate with you.  Don’t handle her.”

 

“Okay,” Stef answers.

 

“So, I’m going to get up from the table, and you just...ask the thing.” Rosa cues.

 

“Right,” Stef says.

 

She’s still not prepared when Rosa gets up abruptly.

 

“Uh...do you need a break?” Stef manages, standing right in Rosa’s path.  It sounds awful. So uncomfortable because she  _ is _ .  But it’s something.

 

Rosa nods, and keeps walking.  Then, she swings around. “Good.  Just...don’t block her in when you’re talking.  Give her space to move away from you. Otherwise, good.”  

 

They run it again and this time, Stef stands up and stays on her own side of the table.  

 

“One more thing,” Rosa advises.  “It’s possible that Mariana may not be able to nod or shake her head.  So, by all means, ask. Give her a chance to respond, but if she can’t, respect that she’s communicating what she can to you by standing up.  By trying to leave. She doesn’t _ have _ to speak anymore than you two do, when nonverbal signals work just as well.”

 

“All the therapists…” Stef breathes.  “They’ve been insisting we push her to speak, but if she can’t…or if we’re being unfair to her...”

 

“Like I said yesterday...therapy and the medical profession in general?  They need a major overhaul in how they view and treat disabled people. Your experts here are us.  Not the doctors. If she gets sick, yeah, take her to the doctor, but on brain stuff...Ollie and I are available.  So, that was better,” Rosa says, nodding to the table, and Stef realizes they’re back to talking about respecting Mariana’s communication.  “Pablo’s coming to give you a run-through on Jesus’s. So, hang tight.”

 

“Thanks,” Stef calls.

 

Rosa waves.

 

Stef’s almost thinking that Pablo’s not going to show, but with five minutes left, he does.  “Hey. My appetite’s not the best today so I think this is the perfect scenario for me. But you’re not gonna hold me down or force anything in me.”

 

“No,” Lena reassures.

 

“So, what would be a better option?” Pablo asks, walking back toward the building with them.

 

“I have no idea,” Stef admits.  “We tried so many things and none of them worked.”

 

“But something did, because he started eating again.  What was it?” Pablo probes.

 

“Holly.  Dr. Hitchens.  This childhood trauma therapist came by the house.  She asked Jesus what would feel safe to eat. He wasn’t talking, just drawing pictures.  But he drew some ice cream and she brought him some.”

 

“Okay, great,” Pablo nods.  “Let’s do this. I’m him, and I’m just going to ignore you, okay?”

 

“Sounds about right,” Lena nods.

 

“So...you should eat something…” Stef starts out slowing down so they’re not in front of the whole world for this.  

 

As promised, Pablo has blocked them out.

 

“He was so small and we were so worried,” Lena interjects.

 

“Right, but he’s scared, too, I bet.  He doesn’t need you to lose it right now.  He needs your calm. Remember the therapist.  Her question.”

 

Lena breathes.  “Yes, right. Does anything feel safe to eat right now?”

 

“Yes, I’ll probably have something cold,” Pablo agrees.  “Sorry, I don’t have more time. Keep working on this, though.  There’s always another way. Remember that. Physical violence or touch without consent is only cool if you’re about to shove me out of oncoming traffic.”

 

“That’s going to be our new motto,” Stef nods.

 

“Good to hear,” Pablo grins and waves goodbye.


	177. Embers

Though Lena’s feeling frayed from the last session, she has to admit, she is excited to hear from Alexis.  She knows Stef was uncomfortable around her, but Lena’s found her to be sweet and engaging. She opens a fresh note on her phone, so Lena’s ready to listen and take notes.  

 

(This has her wondering briefly how Alexis takes notes in a situation where she has to look at her interpreter to stay caught up with what’s being said.)

 

“ _ Hi, I’m Alexis.  I’m the bilingual one from the scavenger hunt _ ,” Alexis greets them.  “ _ Today, I’m going to be talking to you about emotional abuse and emotional neglect.  Now, this is going to be a little different than the sessions so far, because OMG, I had great parents. _

 

_ “That’s not to say they didn’t make mistakes because they did, but I never doubted they loved me.  I knew I could come to them if I needed anything. I knew they had my back. But early on...the first thing they were told is, ‘Your daughter failed the hearing test.’  So they tried all these interventions. Hearing aids - which I do wear…” _

 

Lena watches as Alexis turns to show them.  

 

_ “Some of you might have had grandparents who need these, right?  They’re pretty normalized. But my parents did what a lot of hearing parents do and they put me in speech therapy.  Wanted me to learn to speak orally. To read lips. I can speak orally, but I prefer it only if I have to. And reading lips is hard.  Don’t believe what you see on TV! It’s hard!”   _

 

Alexis laughs and it sounds different.  People around them are shifting uncomfortably.  But Lena’s attention is caught by Sarah, seated in the front row, laughing along with Alexis.  The two seem to be good friends...maybe even more than friends.

 

_ “I was language-delayed, because it took until I was five years old for my parents to realize I hated not understanding all the time.  Being left out. Having to work so hard. I still remember the feeling: being on the outside of conversations. Never really knowing what was happening.  Feeling so lonely. When I finally learned ASL, it opened up a whole new world for me. My parents learned, too, and that was important. Most hearing parents don’t do this.” _

 

_ “The thing is, the damage was already done.  Even though I was safe at home I was still a Black, Deaf girl at out in the world.  Kids teased me. Called me the r-word.” _

 

Lena slides her gaze Stef’s way.

 

_ “That word is abhorrent.  It cuts deeply. There’s never a reason to use it.  If you are, cut it out of your vocabulary.” _

 

_ “Anyway, even though my experience of emotional neglect did originate with my parents not knowing how I felt and us not being able to communicate early on, my experiences with emotional abuse came later.  In my relationships. I had partners who criticized me constantly, who verbally assaulted me. They gaslit me. But the worst was when they refused to communicate with me at all. Isolation does as much damage to a person as physical injury.  I read that somewhere. It’s just as traumatic.” _

 

_ “Your kids need to be able to communicate with you.  However that is. They need to know you’re not going to take away affection or love, threaten them with punishment or try to convince them that something didn’t happen.  They cannot trust you if you isolate them from their support system. We need to be able to talk to somebody about how we feel. Even though I was young, I remember… I remember not even feeling like a person.  To feel like a person, you need to be treated like one. You need to know you matter. You need to feel validated, right?” _

 

Lena finds herself nodding.

 

_ “You can’t feel that if no one can communicate with you.  If no one ever can ask how you feel, in order to respond. My parents, they often knew I was upset.  I made sure they knew. But they didn’t know why. Especially early on. And I couldn’t tell them.” _

 

_ “So, in case you’re wondering, I definitely talked to your kids about their experiences with emotional abuse and emotional neglect.  Come on up and get their answers when you’re ready. Thank you.” _

 

\--

 

**_Has your parent ever failed to notice, attend to, or respond to your feelings?  Share an example if you’re comfortable. How did you feel?_ **

 

Jesus writes, _ On my traumaversary, it’s become more about Stef’s feelings than mine.  I have to come over and say thank you for coming to get me every single year. It’s messed up.  It makes me feel indebted and I hate that. _

 

Mariana writes, _ I have been depressed for months.  Over a year. And neither one of you notices. You just tell me I am being overdramatic.  But I need help. _

 

Fran writes, _ One time when I got in trouble at school, Mama picked me up and made me walk when I didn’t want to.  It made me sad. I was crying. I didn’t want her to handle me but she didn’t care. _

 

**_Parent(s), write a response to your child(ren)’s example in which you notice, respond to and attend to your child’s emotions._ **

 

Stef writes, _ Jesus, I’m so sorry I have made the anniversary of your trauma about me.  I had no idea you felt that way. You don’t ever have to thank me for picking you up. It makes so much sense that would make you feel indebted but you don’t owe me anything for that.  It’s just mom stuff and I should have made that clear. _

 

Stef and Lena write, _ Mariana, We hear you.  We will get you help. We’re so sorry for dismissing you.  That sounds lonely and isolating. We learned that isolation is a very powerful thing today, and we never want you to feel that. _

 

Lena writes: _ Francesca, I should never have forced you to stand up and walk that day.  I should have let you sit where you chose and respected that you didn’t feel comfortable too near us.  I’m so sorry I made you cry and feel sad. No one has the right to touch you without consent. Not even me.   _

 

**_Does your parent do any of the things outlined as part of emotional abuse?  Choose one to share if comfortable. How does it make you feel when this happens?_ **

 

Fran writes, _ Mom threatened me with jail one time.  It makes me feel more scared than ever because she is a cop and I know what happens to people of color by police and in jail.  I feel like she’s saying I will have to go somewhere and be hurt or killed for talking back. _

 

Mariana writes _ , Derogatory pet names.  (Crash. Miss Thang.) Name callling. Dismissiveness.  Threats. Monitoring me. Treating me like a kid. Unpredictable.  You walk out. Goading and blaming. Denying abuse. Demand respect.  Shutting down communication. Keep Fran from friends. Disputing my feelings.  The worst is the goading and blaming and then leaving. I’m pushed past limits then blamed and then left.  I feel young and small. I remember when Ana did the same to us (leaving.) Also when you threatened to institutionalize me.  That thought terrifies me even though it’s been over a year. _

 

Jesus writes _ , I’m constantly putting your needs above mine.  Make a lot of sacrifices for you both but you don’t do it back.  I feel responsible for stuff you did. I feel like I deserve being treated like this because it was so normal Before.  He did all the stuff Mari described and more. I feel like I am your parent. Like it is my job to protect Mari and Fran just like when we were little.  I did that all the time with Ana and it’s annoying to have to do it with you guys again now. Because I thought the point of being adopted was to have real parents who would take care of us, not yet another situation where it’s on us to make sure you guys always feel good. _

 

**_Parent(s), how might you handle the above situation(s) safer ways?  Respond to your child’s feelings in a way that affirms them._ **

 

Stef writes, _ Francesca, I never should have threatened you with jail.  I’m so sorry I did that. You’re a good girl and I know that. I will never send you anywhere to be hurt or killed for not listening to me or Mama.  That was the wrong thing to tell you. I should have given you time to calm down first, and taken time to calm down myself before I talked to you. _

 

Lena writes, _ Mariana, I am so sorry I ever threatened to send you back to inpatient, especially since we were not noticing or respecting your limits in the first place and punishing you for reacting when you were pushed past them.  I should have asked if you were okay and helped you clean up later. _

 

Stef writes, _ Mariana, I know there were times I left you when I shouldn’t have.  When I should have recognized that you really needed support (or a different kind of support.)  I never want you to have to feel abandoned like you did when you were little. I may have to walk away for a minute or two to collect myself in the future, but I will always come back. _

 

Lena and Stef write, _ Jesus, That’s very honest of you.  And we are so sorry we have caused you to feel so responsible for our stability and Fran and Mari’s safety.  That is not your responsibility and should have never been. It makes so much sense that you feel annoyed at history repeating itself.  You are not to blame for our choices or decisions.   _

 

\--

 

Alexis is a little hesitant to approach Lena and Stef.  She knows all about what’s been happening with them. But she’s also heard from Sarah that they seemed to have turned a corner in the last day or so.  It’s this that has Alexis moving toward them.

 

She’s probably the only person in the room who knows less about Jesus Adams Foster than she does about a girl who went missing around the same time: Dominique-something.  Mom made it her personal mission to retweet every single one of Dominique’s mom’s tweets about her daughter. Like Jesus, Dominique made it back. Unlike Jesus, Alexis doesn’t know much about how she’s doing these days.

 

But that’s fine.  It’s not like it’s her business anyway.  She just hopes the reason Dominique’s parents aren’t here, too, is that they are some of the good ones.

 

“ _ How’s everything going?”  _ she asks, tapping Lena on the shoulder.

 

“Oh, it’s fine,” she says.

 

“ _ You seem stressed, _ ” Alexis observes, seeing both Stef and Lena look tense and teary.

 

“Well, we just got a laundry list of all the things we’ve done wrong from three of our kids,” Stef offers, still having a hard time maintaining eye contact with Alexis and not Austin, her interpreter.

 

“ _ May I?” _ Alexis asks, gesturing to the paper.

 

“Sure,” Lena agrees, after looking to Stef for confirmation.

 

Alexis has to swallow the visceral response she has to Fran’s answer about being threatened by her white cop mother with jail as a Black child.  Mariana’s comprehensive list of all the ways she’s been emotionally abused and neglected and Jesus, feeling trapped into codependency with parents who would rather be parented than take on the responsibility of parenting.

 

This is so much more than five days will fix.  But they’re still here. They’re making small steps.  And in order to have a chance in hell at making more, these moms need to feel encouraged in the progress they are making.

 

_ “This looks good.  You’re taking their answers seriously.  Responding to their emotions. Don’t be discouraged.  Okay? Please? Relationships take work. Even family relationships.  This workshop is a starting point. What else can you do to let your kids know you’re in this?  Like, really in it? Committed to changing?” _

 

“Rosa did mention the kids have been emailing the main address here to communicate with us.  Do you think we could get that? Maybe write a response they could have before they come today?” Stef asks.

 

“ _ Sure.  I can ask her for that.  And I can be here if you need help _ ,” Alexis offers.

 

“That would be great,” Lena answers.

 

Alexis shoots a text to Rosa:

 

_ Stef and Lena want to know if kids emailed NAU again?  If they can have that email to respond to? (I offered to help.) _

 

**_Rosa:_ **

_ Yes, I’ll forward it.  Thank you. _

 

In moments, Alexis has it and she rejoins Lena and Stef, bringing up the email on her phone and showing them.

 

She watches their eyebrows raise.  She watches them exchange looks with one another but she doesn’t know them well enough to discern what they mean right away.

 

“They’re happy we got in trouble,” Stef comments ruefully.

 

“ _ If your parent was doing wrong by you, wouldn’t you feel relieved if someone finally held them accountable _ ?” Alexis challenges.

 

“Yeah.  I suppose so,” Stef nods, seeming surprised at the realization.

 

Alexis points to the last sentence and asks: “ _ What’s this? _ ”

 

“Oh,” Lena answers.  “Stef made this Messenger group with the three of them and both of us in it.  Stef asked one question yesterday. That’s it.”

 

“ _ So, for the email...focus on validating them.  On keeping the doors of communication open. And then maybe one more question in the Questionger? _ ”

 

“Okay, but speaking of questions.  How do we validate them, keep communication open and also make sure they’re not disrespecting us?  Because often, calling them out on that shuts the door.”

 

“ _ Well…  That depends on how it’s done… _ ” Alexis offers diplomatically.  “ _ If you sit down and calmly discuss what happened, that can leave the door open.” _

 

“But how will they learn?” Stef insists.  “That what they’re doing is wrong, if we’re just calmly talking to them?  They won’t know to take us seriously.”

 

_ “You would rather they feared you?” _ Alexis asks.

 

“Well, no…” Stef admits.  “I was honestly asking. Because of how  _ I  _ was parented.  If my dad sat down and calmly talked to me about something?  I might’ve laughed in his face.”

 

_ “Because you didn’t respect him? Or another reason?”  _ Alexis asks.

 

“Because I would’ve been uncomfortable,” Stef admits.

 

“ _ This isn’t going to fix itself in five days.  There’s going to be some adjustment. Some growing pains.  They aren’t going to take to everything right away, because it probably won’t feel real to them at first - especially your little one.  But please stick with it,”  _ Alexis encourages.

 

Stef and Lena look like they’re listening.  Stef is nodding.

 

Finally, they get to writing, and show Alexis the response before sending:

 

_ Jesus, Mariana and Fran, _

 

_ It makes sense that you feel glad we were held accountable for our actions.  We have apologized to Rosa and she will be here today. _

 

_ We are glad to hear you’ll be coming today.  We won’t cross any boundaries. _

 

_ And we’re glad you like the Questionger.  If you’re comfortable, want to take communication there? _

 

_ Love,  _

_ Moms _

 

**Stef, Mariana, Jesus, Francesca**

 

**_Lena:_ **

_ Fran, we love that answer and you, so much.  Jesus and Mariana, we love you so much. We will do better at making our love obvious.  What makes you feel loved? _

 

_ “Amazing,”  _ Alexis tells Lena when she’s finished.   _ “My mom’s great and I still would love to have something like this with her.” _

 

“Thank you for all your help,” Lena says.

 

_ “You’re welcome.  Keep working. Keep coming back.  It’s worth it. Your kids are worth it,”  _ Alexis responds, before gathering her things and getting ready to leave for lunch.


	178. Got It In You

Dominique’s just getting home after a short shift at work when she sees Jesus and Mariana in the hall.  She’s just approaching her own door, and it looks like they’re set to do the same.

 

She’s kept a low profile since Pearl and Levi left.  The intense loneliness lasted about a day, and then Dominique was secretly very happy to have her own space back, to just herself and Roberta.  Now, she’s deep in Halloween preparations. It’s only four days away, and she has a lot to do. So she’s basically been holed up in her costume room for most of the last six days trying to make up for lost time.

 

Suffice it to say, she hasn’t really been around for Jesus, Mariana or Fran as much.  With their parents gone at that workshop and unable to bother them, Dominique has felt pretty comfortable doing her own thing again and checking in occasionally.  Needless to say, the sight of them fixing to lurk outside her door is concerning.

 

“Hey,” she greets them in a measured tone.  “What’s up?”

 

“Don’t know if you have the bandwidth to deal with this but--” Mariana begins.

 

“--we’re having twin panic…” Jesus finishes.  It’s then that Dominique notices Dudley alert at Jesus’s side.  How Mariana’s unnaturally still and quiet.

 

“Okay.  I take it that’s not panic about y’all being twins…” Dominique comments, trying to buy time.  To figure out how to best deal with this, while keeping herself safe and okay.

 

“It’s when we panic at the same time,” they chorus, and it takes all of Dominique’s inner strength not to let them know how much Dad would love them talking in unison.

 

“I’m getting that sense,” Dominique nods.  “Jesus… Can I come over? Sit down with y’all?  Maybe we can call Pearl and Levi, too?”

 

Jesus nods and unlocks his door. Dominique follows them in.  “Alright. So, Jesus, why don’t you get y’all blankets or whatever will help.  Mariana? You think Messenger? Or Polo?”

 

“I don’t care,” she answers.  It’s soft and flat. Her eyes are distant, and she’s tense.

 

Dominique squats in front of her, pretty sure that she’s low on words because of the stress.  Things might be happening too quick.

 

“You wanna talk to Pearl and Levi?” Dominique checks.

 

Mariana nods.

 

“Okay.  Would Messenger be better?  So you could type?” Dominique asks.

 

“I don’t care,” Mariana repeats.

 

“Hey.  We have so much time right now.  So, there’s no rush. Whenever you can, just nod or shake your head,” Dominique encourages.

 

It takes several long minutes of Mariana sitting still, seemingly unresponsive, until Dominique catches her eyes flitting briefly to her phone screen.  To her finger hovering just over the Messenger app.

 

“Sorry,” Dominique apologizes.  “I missed that at first. But I see it now.  You want to just do Messenger?” she confirms.

 

Mariana shakes her head and opens the group chat with the grown up Avoiders.  Her finger hovers over the video camera icon, on the top right hand corner of the screen.  Jesus returns with blankets for all three of them.

 

“In case you need one, too,” Jesus offers.  “You don’t have to...I just thought...if you want it.”

 

“No, but thanks,” Dominique says, waving it off.  “Video chat. Okay. Y’all hang tight. I’m gonna be right back.”  She stops back by her apartment for her tablet so that Pearl and Levi can seem as here as possible for Jesus and Mariana.  When she’s back and has it set up, she calls.

 

She’s so relieved when Levi picks up.

 

“Hey,” he grins.  “I didn’t know we were meeting up.”  He pauses. Squints. “What’s up? Are y’all okay?”

 

“We’re…  We might be having twin panic…” Jesus clarifies.  “Can you get Pearl, too?”

 

“Pearl.  Avoiders need us,” Levi calls, and they can see him coming upstairs from his room and settling on the couch next to her.

 

“Hey.  What’s going on?” she asks, concerned.

 

“They’re having twin-panic,” Levi passes along, sympathetic.

 

“Oh, gosh.  That doesn’t sound good.  This wouldn’t be Family Day related, would it?” Pearl asks.

 

Mariana nods.  Jesus, too.

 

It doesn’t surprise Dominique.  Sitting down with their parents would make her panic, too.

 

“We’re picking Fran up from school at 3:00 and then we’re going,” Jesus manages.  “But like, we’ve gotten so real with them these last couple days…”

 

“That you’re worried how they’ll react when you see them in person?” Pearl deduces.

 

“Right.  Yeah,” Jesus nods.

 

“That makes sense,” Dominique nods.  “Last I checked, though, y’all had a plan in place for if you needed to leave?  People to go with you?”

 

“But how long can we do this for?” Jesus asks, and Dudley’s up in his face, licking him.  “If they don’t change...I can’t...I mean, as much as I want to...and I do...I can’t protect them…”

 

“Let’s pause and breathe,” Pearl encourages.  “Imagine that giant birthday cake with all of my million candles in it.  Right?”

 

Dominique actually breathes with them and it helps, even though she’s not the one panicking.

 

Once Jesus is calmer, Pearl reminds him.  “We’re not there yet. Focus on the step you’re on.  What is that?”

 

Dominique smiles a little, thinking about Dad.  She remembers that Levi called him once. Wonders if this is some carryover from whatever he might’ve told them then.

 

“Uh...talking to you…” Jesus manages.

 

“Right.  That’s the step we’re on.  I hear that you’re very nervous about how things will work out later.  That’s valid. I’m not saying it’s not. I’m just saying--”

 

“We’re not there yet,” Jesus agrees, still breathing slowly.  “Okay. That helps.”

 

“Hold up, though,” Levi encourages.  “Mariana, is that what you’re worried about, too?”

 

“Yes and no,” she manages.

 

“Maybe you’re worried about more than that?” Levi asks.

 

“Love…  Moms said…” Mariana manages and Dominique wishes there were a way to know what she’s referring to.  Then, Dominique glances down to see Mariana holding out her phone.

 

“Can I read this out?” Dominique asks.

 

Mariana nods.

 

“Looks like your moms asked what makes you feel loved,” Dominique says.  

 

It feels strange, even to her.  This is the type of question that The Avoiders would ask each other.  That Mom would ask her. Not the type Stef and Lena would ask their kids.

 

Mariana swallows and nods.

 

“That makes you nervous because…” Levi says, leaving the sentence for Mariana to fill in if she wants.  If she can.

 

“They’ll use it,” Mariana manages, quiet.

 

“You’re worried they’ll use what you tell them against you,” Levi clarifies.

 

Mariana nods.  “Also communication.  They wanna move it.”

 

“They also want to move the communication?” Levi asks.  “Where?”

 

“Right,” Jesus breathes.  “Yeah. They started in emails, and then they started this Messenger thing.  And they asked at the end if we… If we’re comfortable, we could take the communication there.”

 

“As opposed to email?” Pearl asks.

 

“Rosa,” Mariana adds.

 

“We’ve been emailing their main address, so that it goes through the main NAU person.  So she can see our responses before Moms. So, it’s like an extra layer of…”

 

“Security,” Mariana fills in.

 

“But they’re asking you to give that up,” Levi surmises.  “How do you feel about that?”

 

Mariana gestures to herself, like _ hello? _

 

“Right.  Panicky,” Levi nods.

 

“Ideally,” Dominique speaks up slowly.  “What would you want to tell them? If you could tell them anything?  About communicating without Rosa being in on it?”

 

“Hell no,” Mariana answers fast.

 

“What she said,” Jesus agrees, jerking a thumb Mariana’s way.

 

“But saying no is...scary as hell…” Mariana says.  “Especially to them.”

 

“Hence the panic,” Jesus agrees.

 

“If I can offer an observation?” Pearl speaks up.

 

“Sure,” Jesus nods and Mariana does, too.

 

“It seems like you might not be ready to address either the love question or the possibility of isolating communication to a single means.” Pearl offers.  “But no one is saying you have to respond immediately.”

 

“They do,” Mariana insists.

 

“Yeah, they do,” Jesus nods.  “They lose their minds if we take too long responding and even more if we say no.”

 

“Ah,” Pearl realizes.  “So, it makes even more sense that you’re panicking.”

 

“If I can?” Dominique offers.  She waits until she has everyone’s attention.  Until all the conversation’s stopped, so it’s possible for Mariana to tune in.  “I know when I feel panicked like this? I usually start feeling real young, real fast.  It helps me...to remind myself that I’m grown now and that I can protect my younger self.”

 

“That’s good,” Jesus breathes.

 

“Sometimes, our inner children need us to do what’s best for them.  Sometimes they send out warning signals, like panic or trauma or whatever and they need us - the grownups - to be like, ‘ _ You know what?  I see you’re not ready to do this.  We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for _ .’”

 

Mariana takes time to breathe deep then uncrosses her arms and reaches for Jesus’s hand.  He takes it and squeezes.

 

“All right,” he confirms.  “Yeah. That’s good. We gotta take care of the inner children.”  He looks around. “How do we do that?”

 

“Talk to your people.  Basic needs. Comfort. Take things slow.” Dominique lists.  “I didn’t mean to shut y’all down, by the way. If you still need to talk, please do.”

 

“I just…  We’ve never been able to be open about love...or what we need…” Mariana admits.

 

“Or I could...you know...for a bit?  But once I hit a certain age, that stopped being cool,” Jesus adds.

 

“So, how would you ever feel safe volunteering that level of info to your moms until they prove themselves to you?” Levi asks.  “I think...if y’all felt safe doing it...it would be totally okay to do something like email Rosa? Is that her name? And let her know you need your moms to ask smaller questions maybe?”

 

“Right,” Pearl nods.  “That way if they want to have feelings about it, they won’t come at you.”

 

“That’s good,” Mariana agrees.  

 

Dominique is there, and unintentionally glances at Mariana’s phone screen as she opens a DM.  She forces herself to look away. Even if she knows every single thing Mari might say, it isn’t her place to spy on a conversation that’s not her own.

 

\--

 

_ NoSecretAnymor: Moms asked us to move convo from email to Messenger.  Bro and I aren’t ready. Also their questions are too big/deep. (What makes us feel loved?)  Need smaller ones. To build trust more slowly. _

 

_ RosaMartinez: I will let them know convo has to stay where it is (accountability) and mention you need smaller questions. _

 

_ NoSecretAnymor: They said you’re going to be there today?  Bro and I are scared. If you can’t be, I don’t think I will feel safe going. _

 

_ RosaMartinez: I will be there.  You won’t be 100% alone w/ them ever.  Even if they practice things w/ you, we will always be just outside the door.  You can raise your hand if you don’t feel safe and we will come back in. _

 

_ NoSecretAnymor: Thank you. _

 

\--

 

“Rosa said we don’t have to be alone with them,” Mariana breathes.  “They’ll be there all the time.” She shows her phone to Jesus, who nods.

 

“Good,” he says.  “That helps.”

 

“Are y’all okay?” Levi asks.  “You know we’ll be here later on, too.  If you need to decompress or chat or something afterward?”

 

“Yeah, I don’t know how much time we’ll have tonight.  It’s still a school night for Fran and she probably will have homework to do that we have to find time to fit in,” Jesus comments.  “But we’ll be sure to touch base. Thank you guys. It’s hard to remember you’re here when you’re not...you know...here.”

 

“We know,” Pearl nods sadly.  “But wherever we are? We always have your back.  And we’re glad you have Rosa and the team there for you so you can be optimally safe tonight.”

 

“Definitely,” Dominique agrees.  “Everybody else okay? How’s Minnesota?”

 

“Cold,” Levi balks.  “Hate the idea of going back to work.  Sorry, I’m grumpy.”

 

“No, hey.  Grumpiness is supported here,” Pearl allows.  “And I am just kind of a hot mess of all the negative feelings...but coping.”

 

“Yikes,” Jesus winces.  “Same ones? Or different?”

 

“Same,” Pearl confirms.

 

“Well, let me know if I can help,” Jesus nods.  “Crap. I just realized. No lunch yet. The inner children need to eat.”

 

“Yeah, we’ll feed them.  But what about you, Dom?” Mariana asks.  “How are you? Haven’t really seen you…”

 

“Nah, I’m prepping for Halloween.  That means no one usually sees me from September on.  But for y’all I make an exception,” she smiles.

 

“Aw,” Mariana smiles.  “Well thank you guys. For helping.”

 

“Anytime,” Levi promises.  “We love y’all. And we’re here.”


	179. Paper Dolls

If there’s a single session Stef is less looking forward to, it’s definitely the one about Disabilities and Sexual Abuse.  She’d like to bury her head in the sand on this. It’s too terrifying to think about. Bad enough to know it’s happened to Brandon.  To Callie. To Jesus. That’s half of their children right there.

 

That’s more than enough for Stef to cope with on a daily basis.  She knows the statistics: 1 in 6 boys and 1 in 4 girls are sexually abused in their lifetime.  In her line of work, especially, Stef knows perpetrators are everywhere.

 

Still, she steels herself and opens up a new note on her phone.  Her fingers fumble over the keys as she titles it with the speaker’s name: Hope.  Ironic, she thinks, given the subject matter.

 

Stef tunes into Hope’s intro.

 

“My name is Hope.  I’m married to that handsome guardian of the doors right there.  Raise your hand, honey!”

 

A tall man, nondescript with brown hair and a wide smile, raises his hand and waves.  

 

“We are the parents of six amazing children.  Some of them are disabled. So am I. But those are stories for other times, if our kids ever want their stories told.  This isn’t an oversharing session on me. This is about sexual abuse. We’re talking about any unwanted sexual behavior done by one person unto another person.”

 

“People with disabilities are at a significantly higher risk for sexual abuse.  Four out of five women with disabilities will have experienced sexual abuse in her lifetime.  For girls and women with intellectual disabilities, this number is as high as 90%. Almost half of all people with disabilities report being sexually abused in their lifetimes.”

 

“Now, why is this number so high?  I believe it has to do with the culture of compliance disabled people are steeped in from a young age.  They are taught to comply. Many behavior therapies for autistic children, and interventions for people with brain injuries exist with the goal of teaching compliance.”

 

“So, while we may teach our nondisabled children about safe and unsafe touches, our disabled kids grow up in a different world entirely.  They grow up with medical professionals who have all access passes to their bodies. They’re forced into surgeries - which are huge traumas - before they can legally consent.  It all can feel like a huge violation. Many therapies as well, involve our children being taught to comply with unimaginable pain. To take it. To not fight back. To never say no.”

 

“So, is it any wonder, then, that so many of them - so many of us - are hurt either as children, or as adults - sometimes both?  Nondisabled children are taught to fight and scream and run away if someone tries to touch them ways they don’t like, but disabled children are taught nothing of the kind.  We teach them to be quiet. That their voices don’t matter. That their attempts to communicate don’t matter.”

 

“This all sounds super depressing, right?  Are you terrified yet?” Hope asks, making eye contact with parents around the room.

 

Stef nods.

 

“Yeah?  Me, too.  I see a hand up.  I can take general questions.  Yes?” Hope asks.

 

“But who would hurt a person like that?  A kid like that? You’d have to be a monster!  How are the statistics so high?”

 

“Honestly?  They’re probably higher.  That’s just the number of people who can report, or can safely report.  Who would do that? I think it’s dangerous to think of people who would prey on disabled people as monsters.  The people who do this are people you see every day: classmates, teachers, coaches, aides, even family members,” Hope lists and Stef shudders.  (She thinks about Jared, the kid from Dad’s hometown, who raped Pearl when she was just a teenager. How Dad always said word around town was that Pearl was the liar, because Jared was too nice a kid to ever do what she claimed.)

 

“Who the hell can we trust then?” she asks, raising her hand belatedly.  Lena clamps a hand over Stef’s arm in alarm. “What I mean is...how...how exactly can we protect our kids with such horrible statistics?”

 

“Stef, is it?” Hope asks, squinting.  “Fellow mom of six,” she says it fondly and Stef feels something open inside her.  A feeling like maybe she’s got more people on her side than she thought. “I’m so glad you asked that question.  First. Every single one of your kids, regardless of age, or disability? They can understand this. It’s up to us, as parents, to tailor our explanations to them.  To explain them in ways our kids can make sense of. You can begin this by teaching your kids the names of their body parts and that their bodies belong to them. Then?  Back that shit up.”

 

“If you notice your kid saying no to something, shaking their head at something, or otherwise indicating discomfort, honor that.  In every possible situation. Let them know you hear them, or you see them saying no. That you’re going to stop tickling them, for example, because you respect them.”

 

“Along those lines?  If your child is smiling or laughing while they’re shaking their head?  This does not negate their no. In disability culture, our smiles are often our only weapons we have to defend ourselves.  To diffuse a situation in a way that will also keep us safe. So, even if your child is laughing about something? If they seem uncomfortable, recognize that, and take steps to stop whatever’s happening, whenever you can.”

 

“Teach your kids that only yes means  _ This is okay _ .  And more than that?  An enthusiastic yes. If a disabled person is coerced, or guilted or otherwise pushed to give consent, this does not count as consent at all.”

 

Stef is trying to take notes as fast as she can, and Hope’s explanation of enthusiastic consent is dragging Stef back through time, to Dr. Hitchens’ office with Jesus.  Hadn’t he said the same thing as a 16-year-old?

 

“Another tip?  Arm your disabled kids with a way to let you know they’re unsafe.  This could be a safe word that you both know means they feel unsafe and need to leave.  For a nonverbal child, it could be a whistle they can blow. The thing is to empower them.  Pay attention to kids’ behavior, especially if this is something new for the family. It might take a while for them to warm up to the idea that they can talk about these things.”

 

“And finally?  For the love of God, especially if your child requires medical intervention, take time to talk to your child about it beforehand.  Explain to them (in as child-friendly terms as possible) what will happen. Maybe use favorite toys to role play what will happen. And afterward, be ready to listen to them.  It can take time for your kids to figure out what they’re feeling about a given situation. Honor their hesitation and their ‘no’s’ as often as you can during surgery and medical intervention recovery.  Empower them.”

 

“Now, I did email your kids about this.  Though not all contributed answers, a lot did.  I want you to prepare yourself. At the end of the week, with the packet of resources, there will be information on counselors who specialize in talking to youth and adults who have been sexually abused.  Please be mindful of the way you respond to any disclosures your child may make.”

 

“Remember that, very likely, what they need, more than anything else is to know that they are believed.  That they are loved. That you see their distress and that you’ll get them help. Feel free to come up and get your kids’ answers, when you’re ready.”

 

Stef gulps and stands.  Makes her way to the front.  To the table just beside Hope and takes the sealed envelope marked  **Adams Foster** .

 

“God, I am so not ready for this…” Stef whispers.

 

“I know,” Lena nods.  “But I’d rather know. I mean, wouldn’t you?  I can’t imagine going through life  _ not _ knowing if something happened to the kids…”

 

“We already know stuff happened to one of them,” Stef says, careful not to blurt out Jesus’s name in the aftermath of this session, though anyone overhearing could probably fill in the gaps.

 

“Right, but still,” Lena qualifies.  She offers to take the envelope. They both draw deep breaths and then Lena breaks the seal.

 

Together, they read:

 

**_Has anyone ever touched your body in a way that felt unsafe?  (Including surgery and/or therapy.)_ **

 

Jesus writes, _ Yes. are you kidding? _

 

Mariana writes, _ Yes. _

 

Fran writes, _ Yes. _

 

**_What do you want to share about those times?_ **

 

Jesus writes, _ When you guys force fed me it triggered a lot of my old feelings with what happened to me Before. _

 

Mariana writes, _ I was 3 or 4, then 7 or 8, then 21.  Therapy w/ Tomas makes me feel degraded the same way.  I hate it so much. _

 

“Wait.  Stef. She said 21,” Lena points out.

 

“I noticed,” Stef says, but she’s getting the sense that she and Lena aren’t noticing the same thing.

 

“She crashed the car at 21…” Lena whispers.  “Do you think…? Oh, God…” 

 

“I don’t know,” Stef whispers back, but she shivers, not able to allow herself to imagine the scenario.

 

They keep reading:

 

Fran writes, _ I had surgery when I was 3 and when I was 9.  I felt unsafe all of the time in the hospital. Lots of people making me do things that hurt and not ever letting me say no. _

 

**_What is a limit you want your parents to know about?_ **

 

Jesus writes, _ You’d think they’d know it but please don’t ever force feed me again _

 

Mariana writes, _ Therapy. _

 

Fran writes, _ Please don’t make me have surgery ever again.   _

 

**_Parent(s), what do you want to tell your child(ren) about what they shared with you?_ **

 

Stef writes, _ Jesus, we promise we will not force feed you again,.  Mariana, if you need to share anymore, please know you always can. We can talk about therapy.  And Fran, we had no idea you had such strong memories from surgery. We are sorry. We believe all of you and love you so much. _

 

Lena writes _ , Jesus, I had no idea that what we did to you made you remember being hurt before.  I’m so sorry. Mariana, if you ever need to talk to us about any of those times, we are here. We believe you and we love you.  And Fran, I’m so sorry you were made to go along with things that hurt. Mom and I will do better about listening to you and respecting your autonomy and consent.  (Surgeries only if you needed one to save your life, because we love you so much and want you to be with us as long as possible.) _

 

\--

 

Stef and Lena can’t get out of Hope’s session fast enough.

 

“It’s like a jigsaw puzzle…” Lena muses.

 

“What’s that?” Stef asks.

 

“With Mariana.  She drops these small clues but it’s up to us to put them together,” Lena clarifies.  “Which, I guess, is typical. Incremental disclosure is more common than hearing about it all at once.”

 

“You mean Callie?” Stef asks.

 

“And Brandon,” Lena confirms.  “Callie...she’s always been such a little adult.”

 

“And Brandon was high...wasn’t he?  That might be the only reason he said anything about it, right?” Stef asks.  “Am I making that up?” 

 

“Nope,” Lena answers.  “But what are we going to do about...Mariana?”  she manages. “Obviously, she needs help.”

 

“Let’s hope Hope has some damn good resources in that end-of-the-week packet,” Stef mutters.

 

“I just need to see her face,” Lena says.  “All their faces. It’s been so long. And finding all this out about how they feel?  I just… I know it’s three hours away, but it can’t come fast enough.”

 

“We’ll see them soon, love,” Stef reassures.  

 

She pulls Lena close and stops herself.  “Sorry. Is this okay?”

 

“This is more than okay,” Lena confirms.  “But thank you for checking for my enthusiastic consent.”


	180. What About Now

“Hey, are you both okay?” Hope asks, surprising Lena as she approaches.  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just know...this can be intense to learn about.  Trying to touch base with all the parents who need to talk afterward.”

 

“Not every day we connect with another mom who also has six kids,” Stef says appreciatively.  “Please, sit.”

 

“Please,” Lena indicates.  “We need your wisdom. Or what wisdom you feel like sharing anyway.  Our oldest is 25 and our youngest is 11. We’ve got four who are adopted and 2 who are biological.”

 

“My oldest two are 14.  I also have two 12-year-olds a 10-year-old and a 9-year-old.  And they’re honestly all just my kids,” Hope shrugs. “Oh hey.  Do you mind if Sylvan joins us? He’s not shy, he’s just not disabled, so he can’t do sessions.”

 

“No, please.  We’d love your insight,” Lena invites and Sylvan joins Hope.  They look at each other in a way that lets Stef and Lena know they’ve been in love a long time.  “So you’re kids are a little younger then?”

 

“They are,” Hope nods.  “And we have the same breakdown in our family.”

 

“About once a week,” Sylvan jokes.  “Because all the feelings are welcome in our home.”

 

Stef laughs.

 

“I meant they have six like us.  Four through adoption like us,” Hope says, elbowing him playfully.

 

“Ah.  If you’ve got the older kids, though, shouldn’t we be going to you for advice?” Sylvan asks.

 

“Oh God, no.  We’re here as a complete last resort,” Lena confides.  “Because we’ve made such a mess of things with our kids.”

 

“At least you’re here,” Hope tells them.  “That’s more than we can say for a lot of parents.  You made it to day three. You didn’t leave. Or walk out in protest when Rosa led the privilege walk.  Or when things got real recently.”

 

“You heard about that?” Stef winces.

 

“Oh, we all know about that.  Yeah,” Hope says. “Speaking of Rosa.  I just got a text from her that says...well...you can read it, in case you’d rather not have Sylvan overhearing.”

 

“It’s okay,” Lena says, after noting Stef’s nod.  “You can read it.”

 

“She says that all communication to the kids needs to be kept to emailing via the NAU email address for accountability.  Also, that your kids are requesting smaller questions to build trust more slowly.”

 

“How do we manage to screw things up, even when we do them exactly as directed?” Stef complains.

 

“Well, let me ask you this,” Hope begins easily.  “Did you ask your kids to stop using the method of communication they felt comfortable with?”

 

“...Only if they were comfortable,” Stef manages.

 

“But if they started emailing through NAU, that’s telling you where they’re comfortable communicating,” Sylvan points out.

 

Lena finds herself liking his rationality.  His calm.

 

“Also...I did see the answers your kids sent, and at least one of them let me know that there’s been boundary-crossing on your parts in the past.  I know nobody wants to use the word, hear the word, or think of it in a personal context...but abuse...that thrives in isolation. In secrecy.”

 

“So, what are you saying, exactly?” Lena asks, trying to keep an open mind.

 

“That whether you realize it or not?  Asking your kids to relocate a conversation to a place where they don’t have the safety net of their people - their community - having their backs this week?  Was an attempt to isolate them.”

 

Hope is silent as what she said sinks in slowly with Stef and Lena.

 

“The thing to realize is, we’re not the enemy.  And you’re not alone in the world with no map and not a single parenting book to tell you how to do this.  Nobody knows what they’re doing. I still feel like a kid most of the time myself. We all need people. We need community.  We need accountability. My kids are all different from me in different ways, and you can bet I have a deep pool of people in their communities that I can go to if I need.”

 

“And we do need,” Sylvan adds.  “A couple of years ago, I was on my own with all six while Hope was working.”

 

“Oh God…” Stef says, overwhelmed at the idea.

 

“Right, so things are going great.  Until I count, and realize, ‘ _ Crap.  I’ve only got five _ .’  One of my sons told me the other had decided to walk to a friend’s house.”

 

“Without asking,” Lena fills in.

 

“Oh, why ask?” Sylvan asks easily.  

 

“Right,” Stef laughs.  “How old?”

 

“He was ten,” Sylvan says.

 

“So…  What did you do?” Stef asks.  “Was he grounded?”

 

“No.  He was just bored.  I drove to pick him up.  Explained that he can’t just take off and brought him home.  Listen, we’re not experts. We’re just doing the best we can to respect our kids.  To realize that we’re not raising children. We’re raising adults.”

 

“Profound,” Lena nods.

 

“The point is, you need a deeper bench,” Sylvan says.  “After I brought our son home? I had, like, three phone calls, asking if I knew he was out walking alone.”

 

“Why?” Stef wonders.

 

“He was ten, honey,” Lena reminds.

 

She can see the moment that Stef remembers: Jesus disappearing at nine.  Just trying to make it a few blocks home. Imagine if someone had seen him.  Had called Lena or Stef to tell them Jesus had left school. Or better, stopped him entirely.

 

“Right,” Stef clears her throat.  “So...not to be too forward, but… We haven’t met many parents who get our situation.  Most of these parents have one child with a disability. We have three. What I’m trying to say is…”

 

“Will you be our deeper bench?” Lena asks.

 

“We can definitely be on your team,” Hope offers.  “We don’t live here, but we can be available by phone or email.  Whatever works. And if your kids need to talk about anything session-related?  To someone who might get it? I’m available.”

 

“Thank you,” Lena says, blinking back tears.  “And if… If something session-related… If that happened...I’m sorry.”

 

“Thanks,” Hope says nodding.  “I appreciate that.”

 

They exchange contact information and that’s it.  It seems strange not to have seen a single picture of their kids.  Not to have heard details on how exactly the kids are disabled. How Hope is disabled.  Until Lena remembers one of the first things they learned here: how diagnoses are medical information.  How no one is entitled to ask about your medical information. And how, often, disabled people are photographed and have their conditions outed without consent.

 

Similarly, it feels strange to have held a conversation without going into Francesca, Jesus or Mariana’s history.  But maybe that’s just it. It’s  _ their _ history.  Not Lena’s or Stef’s to tell people that their kids have never even met.

 

\--

 

Rosa takes a deep breath and goes over to join Stef and Lena, glad to have let Hope help out with the latest information from Mariana.  She’s still beyond sapped from yesterday, and there’s little hope for rest in the near future. This will be the longest day.

 

That means she needs to adequately prepare Stef and Lena for what’s expected.

 

She approaches them and sits when they nod.

 

“We, uh, got the message about keeping the conversation to email for now.  We… It wasn’t our intention to isolate them,” Stef says. “We apologize.”

 

Rosa nods.

 

“Can I ask, though?” Lena wonders.  “What do they mean by smaller questions?  Shouldn’t we be asking the ones that matter first?”

 

Rosa closes her eyes behind her sunglasses, to block out the glare from the sun, and to think.  “If you just met someone...would your first question be about what makes them feel loved?”

 

“But we’ve known Jesus and Mariana for…” Lena stops.  They’ve known Mariana for eighteen years. Jesus for fourteen.  Neither of those is the answer she was about to utter which was that she and Stef have known them their whole lives.  “Most of their lives,” she finally amends.

 

“And we’ve definitely known Fran for her whole life,” Stef says.

 

“They’ve lived with you for that long.  But can you honestly say you know them? Prior to this week, did you know these kinds of things were on your kids’ minds?”

 

“No,” Lena answers.

 

“No,” Rosa echoes.  “So, it’s a little premature to expect your kids - who you’re only just getting to know - to feel safe opening up about what makes them feel loved.  So, go smaller. What’s your favorite color?”

 

“Orange, pink and green.  We know that one,” Stef fills in.

 

“But questions like that,” Lena agrees.  “We understand.”

 

“Right.  I also wanted to be clear about what this afternoon is going to be, and what it isn’t going to be,” Rosa begins.

 

“We’re not going to abuse the kids,” Stef insists.

 

“No, you’re not,” Rosa agrees.  “This is the most important phase of the process.  To have you all in the same place...to start healing things between you.  To do that, you need to work on listening.”

 

“Right, like we did with Olivia.  Open-ended questions.” Lena remembers.

 

“Yes.  But I want you to remember yesterday.  How you mistook my session as an opportunity for small talk and debating.  Your kids are not going to feel safe opening up to you if you push back about everything they say.  You want to encourage them to say more, not less. But also recognize when they’re at a limit.”

 

“This is so much,” Stef remarks.

 

“But think about your other three kids,” Rosa encourages.  “Is it ‘so much’ to tune into them? To encourage them to open up to you if they want?  To respect them if they’re done talking or doing an activity?”

 

“Ooh,” Lena winces.

 

“Point taken,” Stef agrees, chastised.  

 

“Your kids with disabilities?  I guarantee you - they already feel like they are too much.  Their entire world likely makes them feel this. I’m asking you both to create the one place - within you - where they don’t have to feel that.  Where they feel like they’re enough. So we’re going to be doing a lot of intensive work with you both once they arrive. It’s going to feel like we’re nit-picking you.  But I want you to...remember that we’re trying to create a starting point. Where your kids might feel safe coming to you with something once they go home.”

 

“Might?” Lena asks, incredulous.

 

“Most of the parent/child relationships worked on here take a long time to heal.  Much longer than five days. Part of that is being open to our feedback. Part of that is being accountable to adults you choose from your child’s community.”

 

“We actually just did that,” Lena volunteers.  “We asked Hope and Sylvan if we could stay in touch.”

 

“That’s great,” Rosa offers.  “Sorry. When I’m exhausted, inflection’s a bitch.  I am happy for you. For what it’s worth, I do think Mariana and Francesca would be encouraged knowing you’re in touch with adults from their communities as well, especially since they’re still living at home.”

 

“Good point,” Lena agrees.  “Would you...be willing?” she hesitates.  “I know, we have no right to ask, especially given how egregiously we disrespected you...and Oliver...in the past.”

 

“True.  And I’d feel comfortable touching base once a week, by email.  You guys let me know how things are going. Really going,” she adds with a look at both of them.  “And I’ll get back to you. I just...can’t do it every day. I only have so much stamina.”

 

“Understood,” Lena nods.  “And thank you.”

 

\--

 

“Who else do you want to ask to be on our team?” Stef asks.  “I’d love to ask Ro-- Mr. Santanos, but I feel like that would be way too forward.”

 

“I think we should consider what Rosa said.  We need to connect with someone who has CP like Fran.  And I do really like Olivia. If she’s open to it, would you be okay with having her involved?”

 

“Sure,” Stef agrees.

 

“This is actually making me feel like we might be okay once Friday rolls around,” Lena says.

 

“It’s making me feel uneasy,” Stef shares.  “That’s a lot of people involved in our parenting.”

 

“But maybe we need a lot of people involved,” Lena points out.  “Like Hope said. Abuse thrives in secrecy and isolation. And I do not want to continue being that kind of mom.”

 

“Me neither.  My dad was enough on his own.  The world does not need another one of him…” Stef remarks.  She checks her phone. “We should head back in. Pablo’s session’s about to start.”

 

“Should we ask him to be on our team?” Lena asks.  “We have Rosa and possibly Olivia, if she says yes.  And Jesus needs us tuned into him again, too.”

 

“Right.  Well, it can’t hurt to ask,” Stef agrees.  And they head back inside.


	181. Best Years Of Our Lives

Stef settles in, curious about what Pablo has to say about disability and trauma.  He doesn’t look disabled. (She still doesn’t have a clue what he has.) But as Hope made clear, he has to have something to be allowed to speak here.  She wonders if they’d consider trauma a disability in and of itself. Then remembers that even though she and Lena invited Mariana and Fran to come today, Jesus has participated in almost every email exchange with the speakers.

 

Jesus is definitely coming today, and maybe for more than to be there for his sisters.  Maybe because trauma can be disabling, too.

 

“Hello everyone, my name is Pablo Perez.  It’s very nice to see all of you. Now, I am here to discuss trauma.  Trauma is, in the simplest language, an emotional response to a terrible event.  

 

“Trauma is very, very common in the disability community.  We experience things like medical trauma and abuse at a higher rate.  As well as your run of the mill traumas like moving or divorce.  

 

“There are three kinds of trauma.  Acute trauma, which...that sounds pretty adorable, right?  It’s not. Acute trauma is what happens when a person experiences a single traumatic thing, like a car accident or a natural disaster.  There’s also chronic trauma that happens if your trauma is long-lasting, like an abusive relationship. The third kind is complex trauma.  Complex trauma is like...say you find out your mother, who is also your best friend is very sick.”

 

Stef wonders if she’s the only one who has detected the shift in Pablo’s voice.  The sadness in his eyes.  

 

“Then, she dies.  You’re thirteen. You came to this country only five years before.  You remember the long trip. The waiting. The fear. You lose your home.  Most of your siblings are left behind. Your dad is left behind. So, then Mom dies, and you and your siblings do your best to get by.

 

“I tried to find that love and attention I wasn’t getting from other people.  I got into relationships early. I had my first one at fifteen. At sixteen, I dated someone...who was not honest with me.  Who changed everything for me. From the time I was seventeen, I felt like I had lost everything that mattered. I was depressed.  Lost. Took me months to be able to reach out, and find some help. Thank God for my older sister, who was always looking out for and taking care of me.

 

“This is my story - or the parts that I feel comfortable sharing with all of you.  Know that if your child has lost their home, their mother tongue, their family through death or long separation.  These are just as traumatic as that car accident for some. Now some kids? They do just fine. The key is, did they have the emotional support?  I didn’t. My sister was younger than I am now when we lost our mom. She didn’t know how to deal with it. How could she help me? We were all traumatized coming from Cuba and leaving most of our family behind.

 

“I went from being the youngest of eight, the miracle baby, everybody’s favorite, to having no father, no five older siblings.  Then no mother. Then no romantic relationship. All in less than ten years.

 

“Now, I’m not gonna stand up here and inspire you with a story of how I overcame my trauma.  I didn’t. Some days, I still don’t know if I can. I’m just a guy, okay? Just a guy trying my hardest to get from one day to the next.  But the key, for me, has been community. It’s been support that I feel safe with, and that I choose. I have a regular routine. And I have a healthy outlet to express my feelings.  Not everybody is ready for counseling. Some people are, or they really need it, and they have the resources, and that’s great. But if you’ve got a child with trauma the biggest thing you can do to support them is to let them talk about it.”

 

Stef writes:  **Let them talk about it** in her notes.

 

“By that, I mean, normalize it.  Don’t make it taboo. Normalize talking about all feelings.  Now this can be tough, especially if it’s not a thing you’re used to doing, but get in the habit, even if you have to start with happy, sad, angry.  Practice talking about feelings, so it doesn’t feel so scary. And if your child does open up to you, please listen to them. I know it can be easy to say things like, ‘ _ I know that was scary, but it’s over now _ .’  But let me tell you?  That does nothing but shut your child down.  It makes him feel even more alone. Instead try, ‘ _ That was scary, wasn’t it? _ ’  You could even say, ‘ _ I felt scared, too _ .’

 

Stef tentatively raises her hand, and clears her throat.  “Um...what if...if emotions weren’t a normal part of the conversation for the parents, either?  How do we learn to do something we’ve had no experience with?”

 

“Great question.  You learn by doing it.  It’s gonna feel weird. Especially at first.  But think about when you first started training for your job.  Like, very first started it. You probably were really overwhelmed by it, right?” he asks.

 

“Probably,” Stef agrees.  The truth is, she can’t recall much about those days.

 

“But now, would you say you’re pretty good at it?” Pablo asks.

 

“I mean, I’m still scared,” Stef maintains.  “But more confident. Yes.”

 

“Doing the talking about feelings will make you more confident, too.” Pablo says.  “If you’ve been here at all the last few days, you know what’s coming next. It’s time to get the envelopes, because I’ve been talking to the kids about trauma.”

 

“Here we go,” Lena says and she gets up to retrieve the kids’ answers.

 

\--

 

**_What do you want your parents to know about your trauma?_ **

 

Jesus writes: _ That it’s always gonna be a thing. _

 

Mariana writes: _ That I have it.  Just like Jesus does. I’m food insecure.  I worry about being left. About being hurt.  All that, all the time. Yes, he had a longer exposure to it, but a lot of it started before we ever came to you.  And I feel like you forget that we both had the same start in life. _

 

Fran writes: _ Mama hitting me was a trauma I think.  Mom threatening me with cops was a trauma. And when you guys came to Jesus’s and were inside of his apt without even asking that made a trauma thing happen to me. _

 

**_If support for your trauma could look like anything, what would you want it to look like from your parents?_ **

 

Jesus writes: _ Check in with me.  Ask me questions. Keep a list of my triggers if you have to.  I hate that it was 10 years before you figured out pizza is the actual worst. _

 

Mariana writes: _ Pay attention to me.  Don’t assume I am just being dramatic.  Everything I do has a reason. If you don’t understand, ask (in a curious / soft / gentle way, not in a way like you hate me.) _

 

Fran writes: _ Don’t hit me anymore.  Don’t say I have to go to jail. Don’t scare me.  Just love me a lot and make it obvious that you mean it if you really do. _

 

**_Parents, if you also have trauma, what would it help your kids to know about that?_ **

 

Stef writes: _ I do also have trauma.  Sometimes, I can get angry about things and it looks like I am angry at you, but it could be a trauma thing.  I can start letting you know that, so you don’t take it personally. _

 

Lena writes: _I have trauma, too.  When I am feeling a lot of trauma, I get quiet.  I need you guys to know that if that happens, I am not ignoring you.  Like Mom, I will do my best to communicate that it’s a trauma thing so that you know I am not giving you the silent treatment._

 

**_Parents, respond to your kids comments about trauma:_ **

 

Lena writes: _ Jesus, I understand your trauma is always going to be a thing.  And we will start keeping that list. I’m sorry we were so unaware that we didn’t know pizza was a trigger for you. _

 

Stef writes: _ You’re absolutely right, Mari.  Sometimes we do forget that you guys have the same issues from early childhood.  That’s not fair to you. We will pay more attention to you and what your behavior is communicating.  We apologize for dismissing you so often. _

 

Lena writes: _ Fran, I’m so sorry our actions have made you have trauma things happen.  We promise we will not hit you, or threaten you with jail or scare you anymore. We will just love you a lot and make it really obvious we do (because we do.) _

 

\--

 

“That was so great,” Olivia says, hugging Pablo hard.  “Were you nervous? You didn’t seem nervous. I was so nervous when it was my turn.”

 

“No, I wasn’t really nervous,” Pablo admits.  “I’m used to talking to people. Does feel a little weird, like, censoring my story.  Leaving parts out. But I just...don’t feel comfortable here...like saying all of that.”

 

“You don’t owe anyone details you don’t want to give,” Olivia reminds him gently.  “You did great.”

 

“You really did,” Lena adds.  “We’re sorry to interrupt. We were just wondering if it were possible for us to stay in touch with the two of you once the week is up?”

 

“I think that would be great.  I’m really looking forward to meeting Francesca,” Olivia says.  “We can pass along our contact info at the end of the week. I mean...if you’re also cool with it, Pablo.”

 

“I’m so cool with it,” Pablo agrees.  “The kids are almost coming. Are you ready?”

 

“No,” Stef blurts.  “Nervous as hell.”

 

“Good!  Nerves are good!” Pablo praises.

 

“We have a break room reserved for you guys and they’re going to come in the back way,” Olivia points to a door.  “So that they can keep a low profile. We wanna make sure they’re comfortable here.”

 

“Thank you,” Lena says.  “We appreciate that. I just...so don’t feel ready for this…” she admits, taking Stef’s hand and squeezing.

 

\--

 

“Guys, I can’t do homework in the car, or I’ll throw up…” Fran complains.  

 

“Don’t worry about your homework right now, buddy.  You don’t need to be stressed out anymore.” Jesus reassures as he tries to follow along with his phone’s GPS while keeping track of Dudley in the front and Fran and Mari in the back.

 

“How are you, Mari?” he asks.

 

“Feel like I could vomit, too...not from homework…” she admits softly.

 

“Are you guys scared of seeing Moms?” Fran asks.  “Because I am.”

 

“I am,” Jesus echoes.

 

“We are,” Mariana confirms.

 

“The important thing to remember is, we’re not gonna be alone.  First, we have each other, which is super important. But we also have Pablo, and who else Fran?” Jesus quizzes.

 

“And Olivia,” Fran remembers.

 

“Rosa,” Mari adds.

 

“Right, and while they’re not official Avoiders, they are a part of our community.  They’re on our side and they wanna protect us. And they will,” Jesus nods to himself.

 

“How are you so sure they will?” Fran asks.

 

“I guess...maybe because I already trust Pablo,” Jesus admits.

 

“But you don’t trust Moms?” Fran asks.

 

“Parents are a little harder...to trust…” Mariana says.

 

“Because they suck?” Fran asks dryly.

 

“Hey,” Jesus reprimands lightly, looking at her in the rearview mirror.  “Try not to say people suck, okay? Situations can suck. But not people.”

 

“Right because of expectations that are gonna be a thing again.  No inappropriate language. So because parents in  _ our situation _ suck?” Fran tries.

 

“Not quite.  But nice correction,” Jesus praises.  “I like how you didn’t get all down on yourself.  That’s awesome.”

 

“Thanks, I try,” Fran grins, brushing off a shoulder, “NBD.”

 

“NBD,” Jesus laughs.  “I love you guys. You know that, right?”

 

“Oh, holy shit,” Mariana exclaims sitting forward and squinting behind her sunglasses.  “Look!”

 

“Jesus!  It’s every blue space ever in the world!” Fran exclaims.

 

“I see,” Jesus nods, grinning, “but we’re gonna drive around back.  For more privacy.”

 

“I hope they’re back there, too!” Fran says.  “Oh and we love you, too,” she remembers.

 

“We do,” Mariana confirms.  “We just got distracted. By  _ this… _   Oh, my God,  _ it is  _ back here, too!”

 

_ “Mr. Blue Sky, _

_ Please tell us why _

_ You had to hide away _

_ For so long?” _

 

When Fran sings, her song-choice surprises Jesus as much as the fact that she’s still a hell of a good singer.  But if Jesus thinks about it, he shouldn’t be shocked. He recognizes what she sings as the song that plays at the end of a movie about adoption that Fran has come to really like.  And hearing her sing now reminds him of hearing her the first time - when she was four.

 

“Sorry, I just had to sing that song because it had blue in it,” Fran apologizes with a smile.

 

“No worries,” Jesus says, getting out and holding Dudley’s leash.  He walks back to Mariana, taking her hand, and then around to Fran, taking her hand in the one with the leash.

 

“You guys okay?” he asks softly.

 

“Promise you’ll stay with us,” Mariana tells Fran seriously.  “No running. No giving people breaks. Us. Or Olivia. Or if you’re going to be somewhere else, tell us.”

 

“I promise.  Please don’t leave me alone with Moms,” Fran says.

 

“We won’t, buddy,” Jesus reassures.  “You’re safe with us.”

 

“Can I please press the button to open the door?” Fran asks.

 

Mariana and Jesus nod and stand back as the door opens.  

 

They pause.  Look at each other.  Then, slowly, they step inside together.


	182. Brave Souls

Francesca is seriously on the lookout for Moms, but doesn’t see them.  Instead, she sees three people. Two that look kinda Spanish like Jesus and Mariana and one that might be kind of mixed like Fran.  When she walks, it’s like seeing herself all grown up. Same gait. Nobody telling her it’s bad.

 

“Hi, are you Francesca?” Olivia asks.

 

“Yeah.  Are you Olivia?” Fran checks, still holding tight to Jesus and Mariana’s hands.

 

“I am,” Olivia says, smiling.  (Gosh, even their smiles are the same.)

 

“You’re so pretty…” Fran says, before she can remember that it might not be the thing to say.  In case Moms are here. They’d tease her for having a crush, even though it’s just an appreciation.

 

“Thank you,” Olivia says.  “I love your shirt!”

 

Fran glances down.  She only remembers that she can’t wear her teal one anymore because of falling at school and scraping her knee and getting in tons of trouble.  And she can’t wear the white one anymore because of getting slapped. They feel like the bad memories of those times are trapped inside the clothing.  She can’t wear the same leggings again either.  

 

Today, it turns out, she’s wearing black, just like it’s a funeral, just in case it’s terrible.  Then, Fran won’t feel awful about not wearing this shirt again. It says FUTURE PRESIDENT on it in white in all caps.

 

“Thanks.  I got it from my grandma,” Fran says.  The truth is, though, she’s not sure about what she’s wearing at all.

 

Standing here in her blue jean leggings with her cabin Franny pack and black baggy tee shirt, Fran’s sure Moms are going to be so mad and think her outfit is super wrong.  Besides the fact that nobody had time to braid her hair this morning so she only has her Moana headband in. (Just soft material kind of tie-dyed in orange and brown and a little bit of pink.)  Plus her green Avoiders bracelet that Moms hate. None of it goes together.

 

“That headband, too!” Olivia gushes like she likes it.  Fran still gets the feeling, like she might be doing this just because Fran has CP.  But Olivia does, too. Do people with CP even do ableism to each other?

 

“Mariana,” Fran whispers, tugging on Mari’s hand a little.

 

\--

 

The minute Mariana sees Rosa all her words are just gone.  She feels extra aware of her numb left side, and even though the lights are dim and it’s quiet in here, she feels totally overwhelmed.  Thank God, all Rosa does is smile and offer a hand to shake. Mariana extends her right and manages at least this.

 

“Good to see you,” Rosa says, and it’s so warm that it makes tears spring to Mariana’s eyes.  No one freaking speaks to her like this. Like they see her so completely. Like they get how monumental this is.  The only one who really comes close to even kind of knowing what it’s like, and having a similar warmth toward her still is Levi, and he’s states away.  (Besides that, he doesn’t have a TBI.)

 

Mariana’s distracted by Olivia greeting Fran and Pablo and Jesus talking about Dudley.  She wishes she could say something back, but she can’t. Plus, there’s the church room doors wide open with a billion parents inside.  And she can’t stop scanning for Moms.

 

“Mariana,” Fran says, pulling on her hand a little.

 

“What?” she asks.

 

“I have to whisper it,” Fran says quietly.

 

Trying for patience, Mariana finds a chair and sits, so Fran can reach her ear:

 

“Moms are gonna hate these clothes,” Fran worries, close to tears.

 

And that’s all it takes for Mariana to remember the time that Lena literally insisted Mari come to Moms’ room and pick out a top from her own options because Mariana’s choice of comfy tee shirt wasn’t acceptable for the doctors’ office.

 

She remembers staring at Lena, like, “ _ You can’t be serious… _ ”

 

But Lena had only snapped, “ _ Mariana, you have ten seconds to pick a shirt.  Or I will pick one for you. _ ”

 

Ten seconds was not enough time to pick a shirt.  In a panic, Mariana had just grabbed what her hand was closest to.  She ended up wearing something with horrendous fabric that felt too clingy.  But Lena praised it:

 

“ _ Since you lost all this weight, you might as well show off your figure _ .”

 

Mariana didn’t bother telling her that a head injury was not the way she wanted to lose the pesky freshman 15 that had hung on into her junior year of college.

 

Now, when she thinks about it, she remembers Nick unzipping her dress.  Talking about owing him.

 

She doesn’t remember what happened to the shirt she was going to wear to the doctor’s appointment.

 

“Mariana!” Fran whispers, desperate.  “What do I do?”

 

“Hey.  What’s up?” Jesus asks, finally noticing that she and Fran have abandoned the sib-solidarity-hand-holding and coming over.

 

\--

 

Pablo is not like what Jesus had pictured at all.

 

He didn’t know who exactly he’d pictured.  But Pablo looked like a kid. Fresh-faced. Clean-shaven.  (Did he even shave? Jesus finds himself wondering.)

 

“Hey, I’m Pablo, so nice to meet you,” Pablo says and it looks like he has to hold himself back from hugging Jesus first thing.  Jesus is glad.

 

“Hey…” Jesus greets, more than a little wary.  

 

He hates church.  Like, more than he hates pizza.  And the fact that this building isn’t necessarily functioning as a church anymore doesn’t mean it doesn’t still have vibes.  He cranes his neck in the direction of the sanctuary. Yep. And pews. (Full of people pretending to give a shit about kids...when they really...just...don’t.)  It’s like Jesus can feel Him lurking here.  

 

It makes him shudder.

 

It’s not something Jesus talks about much.  Or even tries to think about, because why. He has enough triggers and this one he’s been able to avoid with no trouble, considering that Stef and Lena aren’t religious and never forced them to go to church, even those times Grandpa wanted them to go.

 

But Jesus shivers again thinking about how He mispronounced Jesus’s name on purpose.  How He talked about how God protected Him, so He could basically do whatever. (Steal little kids.  You know. Whatever.) He went to church all the damn time, to make sure everybody always knew how ‘good’ of a person He was.  

 

Jesus had asked to go.  Begged, even. It’s not that he had any sudden interest in God or praying or whatever, but church was pretty popular.  Lots of people went. If Jesus went...people might see him. If that happened, he might’ve been able to get back home.

 

Unfortunately, He seemed to follow Jesus’s train of thought and said no.

 

“You okay?” Pablo asks, probably seeing Jesus’s expression and the way Dudley’s whining at his side.

 

“Yeah, you know...just...church,” Jesus manages.

 

“Right, I know,” Pablo nods, sympathetic, though Jesus is sure it’s for a totally different reason.  Still, it means a lot that Pablo’s favorite place might not be here, either.

 

“We can go in a part of this place that doesn’t look like a church at all, I promise you,” Pablo reassures.

 

“So...wait.  Where are my sisters?” Jesus glances around alarmed.  They’ve been here three minutes. How could he have lost them already.  But he sees them in chairs in the little cafe area.

 

“Hey…  What’s up?” he asks, pulling up his own chair.

 

“No, Jesus, this is a girl thing,” Fran complains.

 

And Jesus is more on edge than ever.  Whining. Saying his name in public. In this damn place where He used to go every damn Sunday pretending to be some upstanding dude when Jesus was locked in His basement.  Or handcuffed in a bedroom.

 

Jesus tries to take a deep breath.  “Okay. Thing is, I promised I’d stay with you.  That we’d all be together.”

 

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Fran says abruptly and Mariana, of course, goes with her.

 

Jesus stops just shy of the door.  Makes himself lean on the opposite wall.  Even from here, Fran’s happy exclamation carries out so Jesus knows she must not be too upset.

 

\--

 

“Mariana!  Look how many ginormous stalls there are!” Fran crows.

 

“I see.  Listen...I know you’re worried about...you know,” Mariana ventures, gesturing to Fran’s clothes.  “They were bitchy about my clothes, too.”

 

Fran claps a hand over her own mouth.

 

“I mean...judgey…”

 

“It’s okay, I know what you mean…” Fran says from behind her hand.  Finally, she takes it down. “Really? They treated you that way?”

 

“Oh, yeah.  They didn’t start with you.  So...it makes sense…” Mariana manages but the acoustics are annoying the hell out of her.  Distracting. Awful. “But I agree with Olivia. You look great.”

 

“Well, you  _ are _ the most stylish person…” Fran admits grudgingly.  “So, I guess I have to believe you.”

 

“You mean  _ was _ ,” Mariana manages.  “If you wanna pee, I can wait for you.”

 

Fran takes the opportunity to go in one of the stalls and shut the door.  “It’s so big! If there were more toilets, so many of us could pee at the same time just in here.”

 

“Okay, but privacy.  So it’s about you having space to pee,” Mariana manages, going in the stall beside Fran.  “Whoa. I see what you mean.”

 

“And I did mean you  _ are _ , by the way.  You’re still Mariana just like you were before.”

 

“You get that I’ve changed, though, right?” Mariana asks from the sinks, which are low and have accessible soap and paper towel dispensers nearby.  No hand dryers that destroy Mariana’s ears. “I want you to get that.”

 

“I do, kind of,” Fran admits.  “Except, I kind of get scared to think about that because Moms used to treat you so horrible and say you were gone and stuff.  I know that’s not right.”

 

“No.  But I mean...I want you to know...that stuff is harder for me.  That I’m different now. Even how I dress. Because clothes can bother me.”

 

“Oh, did it bother you that I said you were still stylish?  I wasn’t kidding. I love your comfy style.”

 

“Thank you,” Mariana nods.  “Moms aren’t going to get you alone to say stuff about your clothes.  I’ll make sure.”

 

“Okay.” Fran nods.

 

\--

 

“Hey,” Jesus greets, leaning lazily on the wall, Dudley lying down at his feet.

 

Olivia, Rosa and Pablo have all joined and Fran and Mari both look startled that so many people are here.

 

“Sorry,” Fran apologizes.  

 

“No need to apologize,” Olivia tells her.  “We all need to pee.”

 

Fran giggles.  “The toilets are just like in  _ Elf _ , when he’s like  _ Did you see these toilets?  They’re ginormous! _ or something.”

 

“Cool to see a lot of accessible stuff, huh?” Olivia asks.  “We were just getting ready to head into the break room, if that’s okay?”

 

“Because we don’t have to talk in there?” Fran remembers, trying to hide herself in the big group of safe people as they walk past the sanctuary.

 

“That’s right,” Olivia nods.

 

When they get to the door, Fran notices the green sign on the handle that Rosa flips to red.

 

“This means this room is occupied.  So people know not to come in and not to interrupt,” she explains.

 

When they get inside, Jesus realizes that Pablo is so right.  The whole place is so unchurchlike that he’ll have no trouble forgetting where he is and being able to concentrate.  At least, he hopes so.

 

“Who wants a stuffed animal?” Pablo calls.

 

“I’m fine,” Fran replies.

 

“It’s just us in here.  The three of us like these three ducks,” Pablo says getting out three adorable as hell ducks in similar shirts and hats but different colors.  “Nobody’s gonna make fun.”

 

Jesus finds a bottle of pink glitter that reminds him of the one Fran made him years ago.  It split or spilled or got thrown away. Jesus couldn’t remember exactly.

 

Mariana found some slime that’s bright orange.  She has the lid off and is poking it. The lights are dim, which kinda helps Jesus focus, but does make it hard to see the glitter.

 

“Buddy, do you want something?” Jesus asks.

 

Fran crosses her arms and shakes her head.  She reaches into her fanny pack and doesn’t take her hand out.  It takes Jesus a minute to realize she’s stuffed her tiny baby blanket into the pack and is keeping it out of sight, just in case Moms could see or tease her.

 

“That’s awesome coping,” Jesus says.  “I wish I thought to bring mine.”

 

“Really?” Fran asks.  “I thought it might be me being babyish. Hey, are we gonna have to see Moms right away?” Fran asks, worried.

 

“Not until you’re ready,” Olivia reassures.  “And not alone.”

 

“In the meantime, though…” Rosa leads off.  “Let’s talk about what’s going to happen, so we all know what to expect.”


	183. Takes a Little Time

Mariana’s stunned to see Rosa just lounging in the huge red beanbag in one corner with her eyes closed when she gets ready to talk.  She makes all these things that Mariana just started doing seem so normal. When Mariana could not imagine doing them around Moms.

 

“So, here’s how it’s going to go…” Rosa starts.

 

“She’s talking with her eyes closed…” Fran points out quietly.

 

“Yeah, buddy.  That’s an accommodation.  Sometimes Mari talks with her eyes closed, too.  And Rosa’s right here, so we shouldn’t talk about her like she’s not,” Jesus advises gently.

 

“I’m sorry,” Fran offers.  “Keep going.”

 

“When all three of you feel ready at the same time...we are going to get your parents in here.”

 

Fran raises her hand, but Rosa can’t see it.

 

“Fran’s got her hand raised,” Olivia offers.

 

“Yes?” Rosa asks.  

 

“Um…  Do we have to let them hug us and stuff?” Fran asks.

 

“No, you do not.  That’s a great question.  They might offer you hugs, but it’s your right to say no,” Rosa says.

 

“But what if we do?  Then what happens?” Fran wonders.  “They’ll just get mad at us later…”

 

“Well, this week, we’ve been working with all the parents - but especially with yours - on boundaries and respect.  So this is all a learning opportunity for them. They’ll get to practice respecting your boundaries. Listening and honoring when you say no, without any fallout later.  That kind of thing.”

 

“Sounds made up,” Fran wrinkles her nose.

 

“I bet it does,” Rosa nods.  “Once we’ve all settled in, Olivia, Pablo and I are just going to sit and observe while your moms and you guys all talk to each other.  Next, we’ll do some teaching and offer your moms some feedback.”

 

“Oh God…” Mariana moans.

 

“I know.  They don’t like feedback,” Pablo agrees.  “But they’re learning to take it.”

 

“Now...once we’ve given them feedback, we’re going to step outside,” Rosa says.

 

“Okay but no,” Jesus says.  “You said… I’m pretty sure you told Mariana we wouldn’t have to be one-on-one with them, though…” Jesus exclaims and Dudley whines and presses his head down so Jesus can scratch his ears.

 

“Can you let Rosa finish?” Olivia asks.  “We’re not just going to leave you in the lurch.  We’re well-aware that you guys haven’t been safe with your parents for a long time...maybe ever.”

 

“Deep breath, buddy,” Fran reminds, taking one herself.

 

“Thanks, buddy,” Jesus nods and mirrors her.

 

“So...Pablo, Olivia and I will step outside for a predetermined amount of time.  But we will be right outside the door. The door has a screen in it…”

 

“Window?” Mariana offers.

 

“Thank you, yes,” Rosa says.  “It has a window. So we will be able to see you.  The rooms aren’t soundproof, so we’ll be able to hear you a bit.  If you get uncomfortable at anytime, you let us know.”

 

“How?” Mariana asks.

 

“Raise your hand.  Turn to look our way,” Olivia offers.

 

“Or we could say  _ Zootopia _ ,” Fran offers.  “That’s my safe word,” she informs Rosa, Olivia and Pablo.  “Moms don’t know it. But just like...if you hear me say that in casual conversation?  Come back in.”

 

“That’s a great idea,” Olivia praises.  “I also think that it would be a good idea to use that if anybody needs a break.  So if you’re in here and we’re out there, and you need us, raise your hand or say  _ Zootopia _ .  If you need a break?” Olivia prompts.

 

“Say something about  _ Zootopia _ ,” Fran fills in.

 

“Or just stand up and go…” Jesus says, glancing at Mariana.  “And one of us will go with you. Not Moms.”

 

“So, yes.  We’ll come back in after a certain amount of time...say fifteen minutes...and then we’ll talk to Stef and Lena.  You guys can take a break if you need at this point, and then we can regroup. The last step will be all of us around you and your moms to help them work out any...lasting issues.”

 

“And therapy,” Mariana reminds.

 

“Right.  I remember.  We’ll talk about therapy, for sure,” Rosa says.

 

“Just not sure if I’m ready for all of this…” Jesus admits.  “Or if I should’ve even come. Maybe it would’ve been better if I just dropped off Fran and Mari…”

 

“Okay.  I hear some doubt,” Pablo offers.  “That’s normal. Maybe some fear?”

 

“I just...don’t belong here, man.  They didn’t even invite me,” Jesus confides.

 

“If you have parents who mistreat you, then you belong here,” Pablo says.

 

“I do, but I…  Overall, they kinda cater to me?” Jesus admits.

 

“Well, you’re not responsible for their actions, are you?” Pablo asks.  Then whispers, “It’s rhetorical. You’re not.”

 

“I’m not?  Right. I’m not…” Jesus manages, shaking his head.  “It’s just hard. Growing up how we have,” he gestures to Mariana.  “We have kinda needed to shoulder responsibility for their choices. Felt guilty for messing up even a tiny bit.”

 

“Me, too.” Fran adds.  “I feel bad when I upset them.  Even though they’re the moms and I’m the kid.  I feel like it’s on me and Mari to keep them happy.  To make sure there’s less stress on them.”

 

“You should be here,” Mariana tells Jesus.  “It’s messed up they didn’t ask you. I mean...it’s Family Day...so ideally...the entire family could have shown up.  Callie, Jude, even Brandon.”

 

“Brandon would never come,” Fran decides.

 

“But did you hear?” Pablo asks.  “Mariana says you should be here.  And you should be here. She’s right.”

 

“I’m just so afraid I’m gonna ruin it for them...and I, like…  I don’t belong here.” Jesus worries, trying hard to concentrate on the pink glitter bottle.

 

Mariana knows Jesus so well, she’s positive all he’s focused on are Fran’s huge eyes as she regards him, worried.  How he’s probably thinking back to remarks she’s made about feeling concerned whenever he’s triggered. Because it made Fran feel vulnerable.  Unprotected.

 

“Need a little bit of privacy?” Pablo asks, and waves Jesus over to a corner with a swing, similar to the one they all know hangs in Pearl and Levi’s cabin.

 

\--

 

“Take your glitter,” Pablo urges and Jesus remembers it.  Thank God for Dudley who is just right here all the time - his constant.

 

They get to the corner, and Jesus remembers his first experience sitting in Pearl’s swing - how he’d needed to test it out with his backpack first to be sure it could hold his weight.  A ridiculous plan, since Jesus weighed way more than his bag, but still.

 

This time, at least, Jesus is a bit more confident.  He sits down, and breathes a sigh of relief. The swing holds him, offering him the security of being held without the anxiety of a human laying hands on him.

 

“You wanna talk about not belonging?” Pablo asks easily, just hanging out on the floor with Dewey the duck.

 

“I don’t know…  I just...don’t feel like…  I’m not sure I can explain it, I guess.” Jesus manages.

 

“I’m here if you wanna try,” Pablo says.

 

“It’s a church, and I hate churches,” Jesus admits.  “Moms used to joke that if I ever did wanna go, I’d fit right in because I was named for it and whatever.”

 

“Were you?” Pablo asks.

 

“Dude, I have no idea.  I’m adopted. But I doubt it.  I know that our birth mom, Ana, didn’t expect twins.  That Mariana being the first born got named after her, in a sense.  I was the surprise that came after. With whatever extra name. Birth dad’s name as my middle name.”

 

Pablo just listens.

 

“I was also...made fun of for my name...when I was...well...you know what happened to me, right?” Jesus asks.

 

“Rosa said you were well known.  And a little bit about why. I’d only just arrived here back then, and couldn’t understand enough English to make sense of the news…” Pablo admits.

 

“Oh.  That’s fine.  It’s just...the guy who…  He used to make fun of my name.  In the very beginning. And then he gave me a new name and went to church every single week He had me…  Used to tell me God protected Him… And now it just… I know it doesn’t make sense because this isn’t even still a church, but...they just feel like hella unsafe places?  Like...they’re full of assholes pretending to be something they’re not.”

 

“So, you feel too authentic to be in a fake space?” Pablo asks.

 

“Kinda?” Jesus admits.  “God, now that sounds like I’m way full of myself.”

 

“No,” Pablo shakes his head.  “If you grew up with church as your captor’s favorite place and no other context for it?  It’s no wonder you don’t like it. And having to see your moms here...that probably doesn’t help.”

 

“They didn’t even want me to come,” Jesus says again.

 

“I heard you say that, yeah,” Pablo offers, sympathetic.  “How’d that feel?”

 

“Lonely,” Jesus says, quiet.  “I don’t like going places without Mariana and vice versa.  It reminds me of when I was gone. I want us to be able to stay together.”

 

“Jesus?” Pablo asks.  “You are together. You and Mariana and Francesca are all here together.  Which is beautiful and right and which I support. Very much.”

 

“But what about them?” Jesus wonders, swallowing.  “Moms? If they didn’t explicitly invite me? Are they gonna be pissed that I came?”

 

“I’m their point person for you, Jesus.  And I have been here since the very first day.  I figured you would be here. Even if your parents didn’t.  They don’t have a leg to stand on, being pissed at you,” Pablo adds.  “You have just as much a right to be here as anybody else.”

 

“But what if I ruin it for Fran and Mari?  What if somebody recognizes me? Or if I get triggered, and we gotta leave early?  Then, I’m gonna have cheated them out of this whole thing.”

 

“You will not have cheated them,” Pablo tells him firmly.  “Whenever you need to go? You’re gonna have us. We’re staying in touch with your moms once this week is over.  And I’d really like to stay in touch with you, too.”

 

“Wait.  Really?” Jesus asks, swaying back and forth, Dudley’s head in his lap.

 

“Really,” Pablo promises.

 

“I think that’d be cool,” Jesus nods.

 

\--

 

“Are you okay?” Mariana asks Rosa once Jesus and Pablo vacate to the far side of the room.  “Did they totally exhaust you?”

 

“This whole week exhausts me,” Rosa qualifies.  “But it’s worth it.”

 

“That’s not an answer,” Mariana points out.

 

“Okay, yeah.  They did. But that only makes me want to work even harder to make sure they get this stuff so you and your sis can be safe.”

 

“But you shouldn’t have to work extra hard,” Mariana winces.  “I hate that this has to be a thing. Disabled people going out of their way to educate parents who can’t be bothered to learn unless they have to.”

 

“I’d rather they have a place to come and the option to learn.  And we are being paid - very well - for our time,” Rosa reassures.

 

“Well, that’s good, I guess,” Mariana nods.

 

“It’s very good,” Rosa nods.

 

\--

 

“So...do we do the thing to each other?” Fran asks.  She’s busy seeing if all twelve of the water-filled glitter bracelets will fit on Righty, since he’s always getting pinched.

 

“The thing?” Olivia asks.

 

“Like....I know we just met...but I don’t really like it when people pretend to like me…” Fran admits.  

 

“Do you think I’m pretending to like you?” Olivia asks, like she’s only curious.

 

“Well, you said you liked my shirt...and it’s the wrong shirt…” Fran admits.  “My headband doesn’t match. My green bracelet doesn’t match,” she gestures to her left wrist.  “Were you just being nice to me?”

 

“No.  I honestly do like your shirt.  But it sounds like you’re nervous about how you’re dressed,” she offers.

 

“I am...because Lena...oops.  Don’t tell her I said Lena, please.  Anyway, she always doesn’t like me dressing sloppy.  You know...things not matching?” Fran explains.

 

“I see.  Well, I’m not concerned with your outside.  I’m concerned with your heart,” Olivia says.

 

“What’s your favorite color?” Fran asks.

 

“Navy blue,” Olivia answers.  “What’s yours?”

 

“It’s green,” Fran nods.  “Here,” she takes off the blue and offers it.  “Have a bracelet.”


	184. My Happy Ending

With Moms’ arrival in here pretty much inevitable, Jesus finds himself eyeing the table in the corner.  It’s been years since he’s had this base-level fear. This feeling that he needs to seek safety under heavy furniture.  But the feeling’s really hitting him now.

 

“I’m not ready,” he says abruptly, even though Fran and Mari haven’t said they are either.  “I need…” he begins and Dudley licks him. “Something to be different.”

 

(God, he feels so young right now.  So damn vulnerable that he’s relying on Dr. H’s old advice for when he’d freeze up with panic.)

 

“Okay,” Pablo says.  “We can do that. Do you know what it is?”

 

“I don’t wanna sit at the table with them,” he blurts.  “I hate sitting gathered together. Forced to share space and whatever.”

 

“I hate sitting at the table with them, too,” Fran agrees.  “I don’t want to.”

 

“Me neither,” Mariana agrees.

 

“Okay.  So, you guys need your own space from your moms when they come in,” Pablo answers.  “We can do that.”

 

“They’ll just sit where they want,” Fran says.  “It’s what they always do.”

 

“This is about what feels safe for you and Jesus and Mariana,” Olivia offers.  “So, we’re going to figure out what that is. And we’re going to make sure your moms respect it.”

 

“If we all sat on the floor?” Pablo suggests.

 

“No,” Mariana says.  “Jesus can’t.”

 

“Thanks,” Jesus answers, nodding at Mari.  “Yeah, no, I really can’t sit on the floor.  I need to sit on furniture. Chairs, or whatever,” he explains to Pablo.

 

“Okay, well, we can scoot these chairs out,” Pablo agrees.  “Mariana and Fran, do you like chairs?”

 

“Yeah,” Mariana nods as Pablo arranges them in a wide circle.

 

“Not if they’re by Moms…” Fran hedges.

 

“No,” Olivia nods.

 

“How about this?” Rosa suggests, finally opening her eyes.  “You three wanna sit by each other, I take it?” she asks.

 

“Yes,” they all chorus.

 

“So...Fran, maybe between Jesus and Mariana?  Would that feel best?” Rosa suggests.

 

“Yeah,” Fran nods.  

 

“Then, Olivia can sit between your moms.  Pablo can sit beside Jesus and Lena and I can sit between Mariana and Stef,” Rosa continues.

 

“Sounds good,” Jesus nods.

 

“But what about when you leave?” Mariana asks.  “They’ll fill the seats.”

 

“No, they won’t.  We’ll make it clear they’re assigned,” Rosa says.

 

They all sit down in the chairs, leaving two open for Moms and then Rosa checks in again.  “How’s this feel?”

 

Fran shrugs cavalierly hiding her fear behind the mask all three of them know well.  “I’m never gonna feel safe with them, so…”

 

“We might as well get it over with…” Mariana agrees.

 

“But deep breaths first,” Jesus decides.  “Nobody’s by themselves in here with Moms,” he tells them seriously, making sure to include Pablo, Olivia and Rosa in the meaningful look.  “And nobody leaves alone. Either with your person or your sibs. Deal?”

 

“Deal,” Fran says back.

 

Mariana nods.

 

“If everybody’s okay, I’m going to go bring them in…” Rosa says.

 

Jesus reaches for Fran’s hand.  Fran holds on, and reaches for Mari’s.  They nod.

 

\--

 

Fran feels a weird feeling surging all through her when she sees Stef in a red shirt and Lena in a pink hoodie and a kid’s book tee shirt.  It’s not how they usually dress. Well, it’s how they might dress on a day off. But they don’t have many of those. She doesn’t look at their faces.  Just at their shirts.

 

But when they sit in the empty chairs - Stef tries to sit right down by Mariana - but Rosa barges in and makes her move to the next chair over - then their faces are in view.

 

Fran gulps.

 

“Hi, guys…” Stef says, and her voice is weird.  High-pitched and tight.

 

“How are you?” Lena asks.  She sounds more normal, but Fran still doesn’t move.

 

“Fine,” Jesus offers.

 

“It’s good to see you,” Lena offers.

 

“You, too,” Mari agrees.

 

Fran doesn’t know what is going on.  She knows Mari sometimes says accidental things.  But why is Jesus lying and saying he’s fine? Unless…  Fran almost loses track of her thoughts because the glitter bottle Jesus had is back on the floor and so is the slime Mariana had.  None of the team has their ducks either.

 

“It’s not,” Fran finally offers in a tiny voice.

 

“What, Fran?” Lena asks, and a jerking feeling goes through her, hearing Lena call her that.  Like, it knocks Francesca off balance even though she’s sitting.

 

Jesus and Mariana both move to steady her.

 

“I said, it’s not,” Fran says, her eyes fixed on the carpet.

 

“It’s not what?” Stef asks.

 

Righty skids on the carpet, going all straight, and giving away just how nervous she is.  Her fingers on that hand clench tight, nails digging into Jesus. “Sorry,” she whispers.

 

“It’s fine,” he says again.

 

“It’s not fine!” Fran says all of a sudden.  “Stop saying everything is fine! It’s not good to see you guys, either,” she insists to Moms’ shoes.

 

“You’re right,” Jesus says.  “It’s not fine. I’m just...really used to pretending when I get nervous…” he confides in a whisper.

 

Fran remembers Jesus’s pick for Disney princess he relates to most: Belle, who was also kidnapped.  Belle, who had to pretend she loved The Beast in order to get away from him.

 

“It’s okay…” Fran says, letting go of Mariana’s hand to dig in her fanny pack for a tissue.  She wipes her eyes. Moms won’t like seeing her tears.

 

There’s silence for so long Fran risks a look at Moms.  They’re just kind of looking at each other around Olivia.  Looking at Olivia. At Rosa. At Pablo.

 

“Could we have a little help here?” Stef asks.  “We’re not really used to the hostility yet…”

 

“I think you mean the valid anger…” Olivia offers, and Fran feels a little bit better.  She’s not sure what the word is Stef said, but she knows valid means real. Like, it makes sense.

 

“How about a question we’ve asked Jesus, Mariana and Fran a lot this week?” Rosa asks and Fran feels put on the spot, like she’s about to be tested.  “What do you most want your parents to know?”

 

\--

 

Jesus takes a deep breath and answers the question first, looking at Moms in the eyes: “The most important thing I am is Mari and Fran’s brother.  I take that so seriously. And things have gotten so gnarly lately that I feel like…” he clears his throat as emotion clogs it. “...all it’s gonna take is one more thing.  One more diagnosis or whatever, to just…” Jesus doesn’t have words for what he means, so he just imitates an explosion. 

 

He turns to Pablo and continues, “We aren’t talking right now.  Things are bad right now. And if they don’t turn around? I dont know.  I’m afraid for them. I’m afraid for us. I get that things might’ve changed over the past few days...but they just feel fake, and flimsy.”

 

Pablo’s admirably calm when he asks Jesus, “How are they bad right now?”

 

Jesus takes a long look at Moms, who avoid looking at him in return.  He takes a deep breath, sure they haven’t let this truth slip in all their evolving and new revelations.  “Fran and Mariana...they’re living with me. Our two friends came from out of state to support us. One of them found this workshop.  But I just…” Jesus blinks back tears. 

 

“Jesus…  We’re so sorry…” Lena says.

 

That’s all it takes for Jesus to stand up.  To walk toward the door.  

 

Pablo follows him.

 

\--

 

Mariana hates this.  So much. It’s so much worse than she imagined and all she can think of is how much she wishes Levi were here.  (Even though she knows just how much Levi’s triggered by their moms.)

 

Rosa looks at Stef and Lena, now uncomfortable in their chairs.  “How do you feel about what Jesus said?”

 

No one speaks.

 

It figures they’d have nothing to say now.  It occurs to Mariana that Fran’s hand has gone cold in hers.  She squeezes.

 

Rosa changes tactics, looking at Mariana and Fran in turn.  “How long has it been since you’ve seen your moms?”

 

Mariana’s honestly lost track.  She looks to Francesca. Maybe she knows.  She’s always had a head for dates.

 

“Since October 11th,” Fran offers, timid.

 

“What happened on October 11th?” Olivia asks gently.

 

Francesca breaks into tears.  “I made a mistake…”

 

“Okay.  Listen, let’s go over to the swing and talk for a few minutes.  Okay?” Olivia asks.  

 

Fran nods and gets up.  Then comes back to stand by Mariana.

 

“Are you gonna be okay?” she asks Mari.

 

Mariana nods in Rosa’s direction.  “Go.”

 

“Okay…” Fran manages, taking Olivia’s hand and walking over to the far corner where Jesus had been earlier.

 

\--

 

Pablo keeps his distance but stays with Jesus and keeps his eyes open for any unwanted attention or recognition.

 

“Should we?” Pablo asks, gesturing to the doors.  “Get some air?”

 

“Air would be awesome.  And Dudley would love air, wouldn’t you?” Jesus asks.

 

Pablo grins a little as Dudley wags his tail.

 

They head outside and Jesus drags in a deep breath.  “I hate the smell.”

 

“Sorry?” Pablo asks.

 

“October?  It sorta has a smell?  And it’s really connected to my trauma…” Jesus explains.

 

“Ah.  I get that,” Pablo nods.  “What do you need?” he asks after a minute.

 

“Nothing, I just...sorta figured Moms hadn’t been one hundred percent honest with you guys about...our situation.”

 

“We definitely didn’t realize Mari and Fran had been living with you longer term.”

 

“Yeah...they have...and I love them.  And I would literally do anything for them.  But there’s only so much I  _ can _ do?  And that’s a lot of pressure on me.  Like, if this doesn’t take.... If they don’t seriously do some work?  It’s gonna be hell on my sisters. Because Moms aren’t gonna let me keep them and I can’t, besides.  No guests for longer than two weeks.”

 

“I see.  It makes sense that you’re so stressed.  I can’t imagine,” Pablo says, sympathetic.

 

“I should head back in,” Jesus decides.  “Hey, do we get to eat here?” he asks. “I realize I forgot to factor in dinner.”

 

“Yes.  We eat at 5:00.  There’s an hour break for it.  You’ll have food. Don’t worry.

 

\--

 

Mariana wonders what will happen now that Rosa knows the truth.  That she and Fran aren’t even living with Moms. Haven’t been since weeks ago.

 

“You didn’t think this was pertinent information?  That your kids weren’t living with you?” Rosa asks Stef and Lena.

 

Silence.

 

“Nothing.  Okay. Mariana?  Do you want to say something?”

 

“It was later…” Mariana manages.  “They were at Jesus’s...maybe a week after when Fran said.”

 

“So, you’ve seen them since the 11th,” Rosa surmises.

 

Mariana nods.  “They were just in there.  All of us panicked.”

 

“Talk to me about this,” Rosa insists, turning to Stef and Lena.  “Or better yet, to Mariana.”

 

“Honey, we’re sorry.  We realize we crossed Jesus’s boundaries, with coming over unannounced and with the pizza,” Lena apologizes.

 

“He wasn’t even home.  None of us were. We just...we got back...and you were…”

 

“You came home to find them waiting at Jesus’s?” Rosa asks.

 

“Inside,” Mariana insists.

 

“Inside Jesus’s.  Sounds like a major violation.  And an invasion of privacy. And all of you panicked?”

 

“Even our friends,” Mariana insists.

 

“We won’t do that again,” Lena promises.  

 

“Then give it to me,” Mariana tells them, holding out a hand.  “The key. Jesus shouldn’t have to change the locks because of you.”

 

Lena looks startled, but digs in her bag and takes out her key ring, removes one key and hands it to Mariana.

 

“The other thing, too.  For the front and back doors,” Mariana says, noticing the fob still attached to the keyring.

 

“Right,” Lena nods.  “We should never have done what we did.  We’re sorry.”

 

“Don’t get anymore keys made,” Mariana says fiercely.

 

“No, we won’t,” Lena nods.

 

Mariana stows the key and the fob in her own purse and breathes a sigh of relief.


	185. You Wouldn't Like Me

It’s Fran’s first time in a swing since Pearl’s cabin once.  It feels safeish here. But not totally. Not even half. Because Moms are right over there.  Because it’s been zero minutes since they came in, and Fran’s already crying like a big baby. The bracelets are good and distracting.  And Olivia’s here just sitting, not staring or pushing Fran to get over her tears in a big rush.

 

“Sorry,” Fran apologizes, shaky.  The swing kinda makes her feel off balance, but also good, because she can’t actually fall out of it.  She would have to try really hard to do that.

 

“It’s okay,” Olivia says, her voice gentle.  “Mistakes are hard to make.”

 

“Especially if they mean you messed up so bad, everything had to change…” Fran says.  “Not that I don’t like living with my brother and sister. I do. But I also made Moms super mad at me.”

 

She’s unzipping her fanny pack softly and touching the silky softness of her blanket.  It’s pink. Stef hates pink. She must’ve not bought this. Probably Mariana did or something.

 

“That makes sense,” Olivia nods.  She’s keeping her voice really soft for privacy, and Moms are way across the room with Mari and Rosa - hopefully not listening.  “If you need to talk about it, I’m happy to listen.”

 

“Oh.  Um. Okay.  Well…” Fran hedges.  “You know how you taught them all about CP and stuff?”

 

“I do.” Olivia nods.

 

“Well...Mama said that there’s one of those things all about adoption,” Fran says.  

 

(It feels weird to call Lena  _ Mama _ after all this time, but she can’t slip up with her right here in the exact same room.)

 

“That’s right.  My big brother’s teaching that one tomorrow,” Olivia says, proud.

 

“Tomorrow?” Fran asks, alarmed.  “Oh no…”

 

“What’s wrong?” Olivia asks, concerned.

 

“It’s just that it was an adoption reason that I ran away, basically.  Mama’s reaction to it. She got really mad about me being curious about my bio dad…” Fran whispers.  “And if she hasn’t learned anything from your big brother yet...she might still be secretly mad about it all.”

 

“We’re going to protect you, okay?  We promise,” Olivia says. “Even if Lena’s secretly mad, you’re not going to be alone with her, or Stef.”

 

“But still...nobody gets it.  Like, Jesus and Mariana kind of do?  But they were allowed to meet their bio parents.  I’m not even allowed to do that...even though I did, secretly.” Fran explains, lowering her voice.

 

“You could definitely talk to my brother, Oliver, if you want to.  He has a lot of complicated feelings around his adoption.” Olivia shares.

 

“Wait.  So, he’s adopted...but not you?” Fran asks.

 

“Nope.  My parents had been trying to have a baby the usual way for a long time.  They finally gave up and looked into adoption. They brought Oliver home when he was nine.  By the time he was ten? I was born.”

 

“You were the surprise baby,” Fran says, matter of fact.

 

“I guess so, yeah.  Anyway, I’m not going to talk anymore about Oliver’s feelings about all this, because they’re not mine to share.  But I know he’ll be more than happy to talk to you.”

 

“Will he know what to do about parents being so upset about bio parents?” Fran asks.

 

“You can feel free to ask him that,” Olivia encourages.

 

“I just feel like this ruined everything.  Like  _ I _ did.  You know?  If I could’ve just kept my mouth shut and not looked for him and everything...but I did.  Because it’s so hard to live in a whole family where everybody’s also adopted, and they all know their bio parents.” Fran explains.

 

“That does sound hard.  Here,” Olivia says, extending a hand.  

 

Fran manages to get out of the swing without falling.  She keeps holding Olivia’s hand. Olivia doesn’t seem to mind.

 

“If you want, I can see what Oliver’s up to?  I don’t think he has any family with disabilities to talk to,” Olivia admits.

 

“Oh, does he have CP like us?” Francesca asks.  “That would be so cool, to have a sibling with the same disability.”

 

“No, he doesn’t.  There, I texted him.  He’s actually hanging out in one of the other break rooms.  You wanna go visit him?” Olivia asks.

 

“Will you stay?” Fran asks, nervous.

 

“Of course,” Olivia nods,  “We’re gonna go find Ollie.  We’ll see you a little later,” she says, walking by Moms.

 

\--

 

“Ollie...the adoption speaker?” Lena asks.

 

“The one and only,” Rosa says when what she’d like to say is,  _ The one you overwhelmed and grievously offended?   _ But she holds herself back.  Instead she looks at Mariana.  “Did you want to talk about therapy now?” she asks.

 

Mariana swallows, and nods.  “I quit.”

 

“I read that you said Tomas makes you feel degraded,” Stef offers.  “So, you don’t think it’s helping you?”

 

“Do you?” Mariana pushes back.  “Because I just feel fucking destroyed everytime I go…”

 

Rosa can see how Stef’s jaw tightens.

 

How Lena gets a disapproving look on her face.

 

“I think Mariana’s looking for you to support her decision here,” Rosa says, looking to Mariana for confirmation.  “Recall, if you will, my session yesterday where I did speak about therapy and its limits…”

 

“We definitely don’t want you to feel destroyed,” Lena says.  “I’d just appreciate it if you didn’t swear at us.”

 

Mariana turns hurt eyes to Rosa.  “This is always what happens…”

 

“When you police Mariana’s language...you’re limiting her already limited communication,” Rosa points out.

 

“I thought you guys were just going to observe first,” Stef objects.  “Feedback later. Or did I misunderstand?”

 

“Well, you both seem to need added support earlier on,” Rosa says, nodding at Stef and Lena.  “So, we adapted. Feedback whenever feedback is warranted.”

 

“I’m sorry for limiting you,” Lena manages.  It sounds like it takes every ounce of her willpower to speak the words.

 

“I don’t have to go to therapy?” Mariana asks.  

 

“No,” Stef agrees.

 

“And you’re not going to...whatever me...about every word that comes out of my mouth...or how I’m recovering too slow?” Mariana asks.

 

“No, we won’t,” Lena agrees.

 

\--

 

Ollie’s just been trying to unwind, honestly.

 

Ever since yesterday, it’s just been awful.  His hand throbs. Everything seems like too much and too loud.  Just, too everything. Plus, he has a talk to give tomorrow. And how’s he gonna do that now?

 

Olivia texts, asking if he’s up for talking to someone.  To  _ Olivia’s _ someone.  Who also has an adoption connection.

 

There’s a brief knock on the door and then it opens.  He already texted that it was okay to bring this person by.

 

Ollie’s surprised that it’s a kid.  A little girl with the same walk as his sister.

 

“Hey.  I’m Ollie,” he introduces.

 

“You’re adopted like me?” she checks.

 

“Yeah.   _ Who _ are you?” he asks.

 

“Oh.  Rude of me,” Olivia says, taking things on herself the way she does.  “Ollie, this is Francesca. Francesca, Ollie.”

 

“Hi,” Francesca says.

 

“So...you got adoption feelings?” Ollie asks, as Olivia and Francesca settle across the table from him.

 

“Yeah….” Francesca says, fiddling with a bracelet.  “Oops. I accidentally took these out of the other break room…”

 

“That’s okay,” Olivia reassures.  “We’ll make sure they get put back before you go.  No problem.”

 

“Okay…” Fran admits.  “It’s just that… My mom?  She got really mad at me when I accidentally wrote my bio dad’s last name on my paper…” Francesca admits.  “She found out I met him and stuff. She got madder and madder and she...hit me even.”

 

“I’m so sorry,” Ollie says, and means it.  “And I so get it. I tried to talk to my parents about my adoption once?  I was about fifteen. And my mom just cried. My dad was like, pretty calm and stuff, but then he’s like, ‘Look what you’re doing to your mom…’  It’s a little different ‘cause I remember my birth mom. Wanted a relationship with her. But they just...wouldn’t hear it. Said ‘You’re ours now.’

 

“Did you feel like a thing, not a human?” Francesca wonders.

 

“I did,” Ollie nods sadly.

 

“Me, too.  They said that kind of same thing to me.  I’m not his, I’m theirs. When I said I’m myself?  That’s when she did it. Hit me,” Francesca admits.  There’s this long pause and then she asks, “Do you wonder?” 

 

Instead of asking about what, specifically, Ollie just nods.  “All the time. Every day.”

 

“I do, too.  I really wanna know my bio dad, a ton.  But they don’t want me to. They say I have to wait ‘til I’m eighteen.  My older sister, she says she’ll put in a good word for me. That I do wanna know him and stuff.  Hey, are you older than eighteen?”

 

Ollie smiles.  “Yeah, you could say that.”

 

“Oh.  Well do you know your bio mom now?” Francesca asks.

 

“We’re in touch a little bit.  My parents...they don’t like it much.  So it makes things tense. Like...I can’t talk about her to them.”

 

“Can you to your sister?” Francesca asks, indicating Olivia.

 

“I can, I guess, right?” he asks, and Olivia nods.  “I just...don’t.”

 

“Just in case she sides with her parents and starts crying or something?” Francesca asks honestly.

 

“Something like that, yeah,” Ollie nods.  “Sorry, sis,” he says, nodding at Olivia.

 

“No, it’s good.  I want you guys to talk.  For the record, you can totally talk about your bio mom to me.  I love your bio mom.”

 

“Why?” Ollie asks, surprised.

 

“Well...without her, there’d be no you,” Olivia says thoughtfully.

 

\--

 

Mariana can’t with these long silences.  It’s like now that Moms are learning that the way they’ve been dealing with her is wrong - and now that therapy is off the table - they don’t know what to talk to her about.

 

“My friend and I...we found the thing…” she says and then could kick herself.  

 

(This is exactly the vaguery that Moms would jump all over as proof that Mari needed more therapy.  Mariana holds her breath.)

 

“What did you find?” Stef asks, after a look from Rosa.

 

“The hellsite.  Brain blog. Whatever.  We deleted it,” she says, an edge in her voice.

 

“That’s your right,” Lena nods.  “We shouldn’t have made it. I shouldn’t have asked Brandon.”

 

Mariana turns on Stef.  “What if Mama made one of you when you were recovering?”  

 

Stef winces and Mariana tries to ignore it.  Tries to not hate every inch of herself for still respecting Stef’s medical privacy when she and Lena did nothing but exploit the hell out of her own.  A double mastectomy five years ago. It’s no one’s business.

 

“Why didn’t she?” Mariana presses.

 

“Honey, we shouldn’t have done it.  We know that.” Lena steps in, trying to smooth things over.

 

“But why didn’t the idea to share Stef’s medical recovery in an exploitative manner cross your mind?” Rosa presses.

 

(Mariana loves her.  Loves that she presses.  That she doesn’t let them get away with half-answers.)

 

“Because it was personal,” Lena admits.  “Excruciating. Not something for the public to see, unless Stef decided to share.”

 

“Because you respect your wife,” Rosa fills in.  “But you didn’t have the same rationale with Mariana’s experience?”

 

“Obviously not,” Lena manages, through tears.  “Mariana, I know it was the wrong call. I’m sorry.  I don’t know what else I can say. What else do you want?”

 

“I want you to...God!   _ Be sorry _ !  Say whatever the hell you want!  It doesn’t matter! That...destroyed me.  Knowing...people read that? Strangers...read that?  People I knew? People...I…” Mariana gasps through tears.  “...wanted to have a good...whatever of me? And now? They don’t!  They know...I shit the bed… They know...you guys...were willing to...send me back...without...Jesus…”

 

“Mariana,” Lena manages, crying, too.  “We never should have shared the things we did.  We are so sorry. And I never should have threatened to send you away.  You’re ours. Always.”

 

It’s a while before Mariana can get a grip on herself enough to ask the next question:  

 

“If I never found it...would it still be there?  Would you have...ever deleted it?” Mariana asks.

 

“I honestly don’t know,” Stef says.  “I’d like to think that at least after this week, we would have recognized the harm and taken it down.  Mama also took down all her social media except for her Instagram.”

 

“So?” Mariana asks.  “You...it’s bad enough...but then you…” 

 

“Okay.  Let’s take a break,” Rosa urges.  “Stef and Lena? Some space, please?”

 

“Of course,” Stef says, bewildered.

 

Rosa’s pretty sure it’s because it’s the first time she’s been asked to leave, instead of leaving Mariana of her own free will.


	186. Bring It Back To Me

The door hasn’t even closed behind them when Mariana’s sobbing.  All the sadness in her...it needs an out...and it has nowhere else to go. All this damn time.  Three days here, and Moms still can’t tell her for sure that they wouldn’t have just left the site up indefinitely.  Wouldn’t have kept it from her, indefinitely.

 

The minutes bleed into each other.  Mariana’s surrounded by empty chairs and feeling hellishly alone.  No Jesus. No Fran. Nobody.

 

Just an empty dark room with tiny lights and no real changes inside.  Just a shell.

 

“Hey…” Rosa says.

 

“Oh, what the hell?!” Mariana exclaims, hand to her chest.

 

“Sorry,” Rosa apologizes.  “Just wanted you to know...I’m here.”  She walks closer. Mariana can only assume she’s been keeping a low profile near the door or something. But she doesn’t have the energy to consider more.

 

Mariana screams and pushes a chair over.  Then another. Until all eight are on their backs.  Legs in the air. Stuck there ‘til somebody rights them.  Or not. Whatever. Mariana can’t stop screaming. She’s going to break something inside.  Her larynx or something.

 

“Get it out,” Rosa encourages.  She takes a whole drawer out and dumps it on the floor.  A whole ton of stuffed animals pour out. She nods at Mariana, inviting.

 

Mariana lurches over and grabs handfuls of stuffed animals.  Starts pelting them around the room. Rosa stands back, giving her space.

 

When Mariana’s exhausted, Rosa shepherds her to the swing, not touching her.  “Here. If you can get all the way in, you can pull this around yourself and just hang out in there.  Helps to shut everything out. I’ll still be here. Just take some time.”

 

Rosa stands by and helps Mariana get settled.  When she is, Rosa does what she promised and stays, but she’s quiet.

 

Mariana’s literally never been in one of these.  It feels weirdly safe in here. Like being in a womb.  (Not that Ana’s womb was particularly safe...but at least Jesus had been in there with her…)  Still, she gets what Jesus loves about it. Wishes there was a way he could have one. Or she could.  Or they all could. Without being made fun of for it.

 

She hears little noises here and there - enough to know Rosa hasn’t left.  And eventually, Mariana emerges. It’s not long enough. Like, Mariana would love a solid three hours in there, but they have to leave by 7 PM, and it’s almost 5:00 now.

 

“I can go downstairs and grab you something to eat and bring it back here.  Pablo’s doing the same for Jesus and Fran…” Rosa offers. “Speaking of...they’re right outside.  Want company?”

 

“Not Moms,” Mariana says.

 

“No, it’s not.  Just Fran and Jesus.  We can make sure that Stef and Lena steer clear of you guys.”

 

“Will you join us?” Mariana asks.

 

“To eat?” Rosa asks.  “Sure, of course. I’ll be back.”

 

\--

 

Fran goes inside the break room.  The air feels different in here. Even though it’s all clean, something about it feels not okay.

 

“Are you okay?” she asks Mari.

 

That’s when Fran notices.  Mariana’s eyes are puffy and red.  Her hands are shaking. So Moms  _ did _ do something.

 

“Not really…” Mariana admits.  “What about you guys?”

 

Fran sits in the red beanbag.  Jesus pulls a chair up to the table.  Mariana takes one on the far side.

 

“I’m scared they won’t get it…” Jesus admits.  “I want you guys to be safe.”

 

“ _ I’m _ scared because Lena didn’t even  _ go _ to the adoption thing yet, so she didn’t learn one thing about it, and she’ll probably still be mad at me…” Fran adds.

 

“What about you, Mari?” Jesus asks.  “What happened with Moms, if you can say?  Or want to?”

 

“They...basically admitted that if I hadn’t found the blog they’d have...I don’t know...left it up or something...just...forever.  For anybody to see.” Mariana says, wiping her eyes.

 

“No…” Fran objects.  “That’s so rude of them…”

 

“It is,” Jesus nods.

 

“You guys...you didn’t see it…  It was more than rude…” Mariana attempts to explain.

 

“Sorry for the too-small word,” Fran says.  “No offense, but shouldn’t Moms be learning how to not be jerks to us?  Isn’t that the whole point of being here?”

 

“It is,” Jesus nods.  “But I guess...if they’re not called out directly about something, it’s easy for them to let it slide…”

 

“You need anything, Mari?” he asks.

 

“Like what?” she asks.

 

Jesus shrugs.  “I don’t know. I know we’re not huggers, but, like, anything?  Would anything help?”

 

“I used that,” Mariana points to the swing.  “It did help. I get why you like it now. Rosa closed me all the way in and it was like…” Mariana sighs, relieved.

 

“I never closed myself in.  But Pearl had the purple curtain thing, and that was cool to look at.”

 

“I liked her swing, too, and this one,” Fran adds.

 

Just about then, there’s a knock on the door and they all turn.  See Olivia’s face in the window. She waves.

 

Fran motions them in.

 

Pablo’s somehow carrying three plates, while Rosa has two and Olivia has one.  It must be hard to balance with more plates. Jesus asks if he can take one from Rosa, and she agrees.  Keeps one of herself. Mariana motions for the one Olivia has, her eyebrows up. Fran is happy to take one of Pablo’s plates off his hands.

 

They don’t really talk about anything too serious.

 

Rosa and Mariana move off to one side of the room, probably for quiet.  Jesus and Pablo just eat on chairs, balancing their plates on their knees.  But Francesca and Olivia stay at the table because CP means they need it, for accommodations.

 

“So, Jesus?  You mentioned your friends coming?” Olivia says.  “What was the best thing you all did together?”

 

“Had ice cream for dinner!” Fran volunteered.

 

“No way!  Really?” Olivia asks.

 

“Seriously.  I had a bunch of our friend, Levi’s, coffee ice cream he didn’t want.  It was great. Then Moms came, and that wasn’t great,” Fran stabs a piece of melon with her fork.

 

“What do you love most about your friends?” Pablo asks Jesus.

 

“Just that,” Jesus says.  “We can count on them. Pearl, she’s been such an example to me.”

 

“And Levi...he’s there anytime.  He’s sweet. Good. Like, gentle.  Soft,” Mariana lists and Fran isn’t sure if she’s trying to get to any particular word or if she’s saying Levi is actually all that stuff.

 

“Oh, and don’t forget Dominique!” Fran says.  “She didn’t come, because she already lives here in California with us. My favorite thing about her is that she sees me.  She helps me cope and stuff. And she introduced me to  Harry Potter .”

 

“Okay...but can I be your friend, too?” Olivia asks with a fun smile.  “I _love_ Harry Potter.”

 

“I’ve been in the middle of the second one for like...months.  It’s so boring, it makes me want to fall asleep…” Fran admits.

 

“I like the first one,” Jesus offers.

 

“I don’t like any,” Mariana shares.

 

“What?  You don’t?” Fran asks, shocked.

 

She shrugs.  “No. Too much fake stuff.”

 

“Just because it came from somebody’s imagination doesn’t make it less real, though.  Listen to Dumbledore,” Olivia encourages.

 

“Rumbleroar…” Mariana says in a funny voice.  

 

Fran giggles.

 

“Sounds like your friends are good people to have in your corner,” Pablo offers.

 

“The best,” Jesus nods.

 

“We could always use more, though…” Mariana says.  “People,” she looks at Rosa expectantly.

 

“Oh, I have no plans to abandon ship once you guys leave or your parents go home,” Rosa promises.

 

“Me, neither,” Pablo insists.

 

“Me, three-ther,” Olivia adds.

 

“Guys, what should our ship name be?!” Fran asks, excited.

 

“Buddy, I don’t think that’s used about actual ships.  It’s for relationships,” Jesus corrects.

 

“So?  I’m sorry, I mean...aren’t we?  Friendships are relationships, right?” Fran asks.

 

“She has a point,” Mariana agrees.

 

“The Oli-Ro-blo,” Olivia says with a straight face.

 

Francesca chokes on her chicken, laughing.  Olivia reaches over to pat her back.  

 

“Sorry.  Bad timing,” Olivia apologizes.

 

“Everybody good?” Rosa checks.  “Because I got something that’s gonna blow your minds.  Ready?”

 

Fran’s impressed that Rosa actually waits until all of them are done eating and drinking to share:

 

“Je-Fran-iana,” Rosa offers, straight faced.

 

And that does it.  They’re all laughing.  Francesca falls out of her chair.  Jesus has tears coming out of his eyes.  Pablo has the best laugh out of all of them.  Even Mariana is gasping between laughs. Rosa and Olivia are laughing, too.  Dudley’s the only one not laughing, but maybe he’s doing it on the inside.

 

“Okay.  That is the greatest thing I’ve ever heard,” Pablo says.

 

It takes them a long time to calm down, but for once it’s not from trauma.  

 

It’s the best feeling.

 

\--

 

Like pretty much all good things Jesus has ever known, them laughing over Rosa and Olivia’s awesome names for all of them has to come to an end.  He’s tried to ignore the mini-triggers, dealing with them as they came, the best he could.

 

Being brought food he didn’t pick out.  (Jesus made sure to accept a plate from Rosa, not Pablo.)  Being kinda stuck in a room while Moms were out roaming around, doing whatever they did.

 

That one’s harder to manage.  Because he does feel trapped, knowing he’s easily recognized and if word gets out, and it becomes a thing that he’s here?  They’ll have to call it.  

 

The alternative is staying put in a tiny room.  A bit dark. But there are enough differences that Jesus is mostly okay in here.

 

“Can you not leave us alone with Moms yet?” Fran asks Olivia honestly.  “I am so not ready for that step.”

 

“Nope, we won’t leave you unless or until you’re ready.” Olivia says.

 

“What if we never are?” Fran asks seriously.

 

“Well...then I guess...we’ll stay with you and make sure you all feel as safe as you can while you’re here,” Olivia nods.

 

Rosa talks quietly to Mariana.  After Mari nods, Rosa speaks up: “Your moms agreed to no more therapy for Mariana, and no disparaging comments about her recovery.  Just so you both know,” Rosa passes along to Jesus and Fran.

 

“Did they mean it?” Fran asks Mariana, skeptical.

 

“I don’t know,” Mari admits.  “I don’t really wanna talk to them about anything else...but I had to get those things out…”

 

“Yeah,” Jesus agrees.  “It’s just so hard to talk to them…”

 

“And they have no idea how to talk to us…” Mariana adds.

 

“I still feel really in trouble by them.  But I don’t wanna ask if I really am. You know, just in case _ I am _ ,” Fran explains.

 

“They’re not gonna hurt you, buddy,” Jesus reassures.  “No violence.”

 

“But those are just words, Jesus,” Fran says, like she’s all out of hope.  “A no-violence thing isn’t going to stop them. We had that in the house before, too and they still broke it…”

 

Jesus feels goosebumps raise on his arms.  He moves back to his chair in the circle and Fran surprises him by asking if she can sit with him.  Like, in his lap.

 

“Yes.  Thanks for asking,” he says, putting his arms around her and speaking quietly to her.

 

“You know...I think I felt like this, too.  Right after I got home? Like, it was super hard for me to trust that Moms wouldn’t hurt me.  Because I spent so much time around one that did.” Jesus shares only loud enough for Fran to hear.

 

“The bad guy?” she whispers and shivers.

 

“Right,” Jesus nods.  “But there’s one huge difference you have now that I didn’t have then.  And that’s...you have me and Mariana. You have Olivia, Rosa and Pablo. And at home you have Dominique.  And in Minnesota, you have Pearl and Levi. You have safe people, buddy. People who will always come for you.  Always protect you. Always love you.”

 

“You really won’t let them hurt me?” Fran asks, worried.

 

“I really won’t,” Jesus vows.  


	187. No Matter What

Lena can barely eat.  All she can do is cry.  She’s glad they’ve sought refuge in their car, far away from any other parents, or prying eyes.

 

This is not how she expected the reunion with the kids to go.  Even though, rationally, she knew that it wasn’t going to be like when she first met Mariana when she was five and instantly clung to Lena, a part of her longed for that.  For Jesus to allow her close like he had at six, and let her kiss his hurt knee. To just hold Francesca close for as long as possible.

 

“They hate us,” Lena sobs.

 

“Well, yeah,” Stef says, holding Lena’s hand.  “We messed up. Not just once. Over and over again.  They’re not gonna just trust us...they told us as much, Lena.”

 

“I know,” Lena manages.  “I just missed them. And I so wanted to see them.  But...it’s like...they don’t even want to be near us…  What are we going to do?”

 

“Work like hell on ourselves,” Stef says.  

 

“We’re trying,” Lena manages hopelessly.  “They want nothing to do with us!”

 

“So, it might take longer than an hour,” Stef reasons.  “We’ll still have a couple more with them after this. We just have to keep trying.  We can’t give up.”

 

Lena struggles to collect herself.  “I love it when you’re motivational…” Lena manages.  She draws a shaky breath. “That blog...might be the single worst idea I’ve ever had…”

 

“I think Mariana would love to hear as many of those regrets as you wanna share,” Stef offers.

 

“Would you have made one?  If I hadn’t?” Lena asks.

 

“No,” Stef says.

 

“Because you know what it’s like to be in a vulnerable position?  Medically?” Lena asks.

 

“No.  Because I hate the internet,” Stef says.  “And I’m not blameless either. I know I wrote my share of crappy things on that site.  I’m glad it’s gone. Could be worse. We could be forced to hear back every awful thing we wrote about her.”

 

Lena cringes.  “Don’t remind me.  And are we really going to be on board with Mariana quitting therapy?”

 

“I think we have to be, love,” Stef says.  “I mean, we did promise her. And it’s not going to do much for their trust in us if we break promises we just made to them.”

 

“Right, but...I don’t know...doesn’t that make us bad parents?” Lena asks.  “When something happens to your child and they need help, you get them help.”

 

“And Mariana’s asking for help, just not this kind,” Stef reminds Lena.

 

“This is just...the worst place to be as a parent…” Lena objects.  “Well...no...not the worst. But not a good place.”

 

“No, but it’s a place to start, and we have people like Hope and Sylvan, who are willing to help us.  Not to mention Rosa and Olivia.”

 

“I know,” Lena wipes her eyes.

 

“Try to eat something,” Stef encourages.

 

“Did you see?  Fran can’t even look at us?” Lena asks.

 

“I know…” Stef admits.  “I know. I don’t like it either, but we have to deal with this.  The alternative is not acceptable.”

 

Lena lets out a breath.  “Alright. Let’s go back in then.”

 

\--

 

Jesus is aware the exact second Moms are outside the door, even before Pablo says they’re here.

 

Unlike Fran and Mari, who keep their eyes down, Jesus stares right at Moms. He wants them to know that he sees them.  Lena’s eyes are red, and Stef looks defeated. Jesus tries to stay unmoved by them and their distress. What about Mariana’s distress?  What about Fran? Who’s terrified she’s going to be hit again?

 

“We know this is really hard for you guys, trusting us,” Stef offers.  “We wouldn’t trust us either. Like we say, trust has to be earned, right?  And we know we haven’t done much of anything to earn your trust lately.”

 

“Mariana, it makes sense that you’re so upset about the blog.  I was telling Mom just now it is the biggest regret of my life,” Lena offers.

 

That catches Jesus.  Lena’s always talked about her number one regret in life being that she didn’t know Jesus left school that day in fourth grade.  The day he got kidnapped. But Jesus guesses that being unaware was less of a big deal than knowingly putting out there all the details of your kid’s hospital stay.

 

“Good,” Mariana says, not giving them an inch.

 

Jesus wishes he could put out his fist for her to bump...but then again...they might take that as blatant disrespect for them and not support for Mariana.

 

\--

 

Francesca sits back in her own chair, staring at her shoes.  She needs new ones. Walking around so much at school, they’re wearing out fast, but she knows better than to ask.  She’ll probably have to wait for next school year or something.

 

It’s way easier to think about her shoes than it is to think about Lena having zero adoption lessons since she’s been here.  Of what that could mean if the topic comes up.

 

“Fran?” Olivia asks.  “Did you want to tell your moms anything important?”

 

“Like what?” Fran asks.

 

“Like...what’s the most important thing you want them to know?” Olivia wonders.

 

Fran peeks at her.  It’s way easier to talk to Olivia than it is to Moms.  “Um… Sorry for all the things I did wrong?” she asks.

 

“You want them to know you’re sorry for all the things you did wrong,” Olivia repeats, looking at Moms.

 

Fran doesn’t.

 

“What do you think you did wrong?” Stef asks.

 

“Everything, basically,” Fran shrugs.

 

“Do you feel comfortable being anymore specific, buddy?” Jesus asks.

 

Fran glares at him.  (Because no, obvi. That’s the whole point.)  But the more the silence grows, the worse Fran feels.  It’s like she has to talk, or else…

 

“Timothy…” she blurts, and then almost covers her mouth like it’s a swear.  (His name basically  _ is _ a swear to them.  Lena reacted exactly like if Fran had cursed at her or something.)

 

“I’m sorry about Timothy, too,” Lena agrees, surprising Fran.  “I didn’t handle that right.”

 

“Yeah, you think?” Mariana asks, and it’s the exact thing Fran was thinking.

 

“Should Fran have to apologize, though?” Olivia asks.  “For finding out information about who her biological father is?  Most of us know our bio parents. And it isn’t anything we have to apologize for.  It’s just life.”

 

“I’m sorry for hurting them.  Like your brother said...talking about it made them sad,” Fran tells the floor.

 

“But it doesn’t hurt Grams that you know Grandpa,” Jesus points out, looking at Lena.  “Why does Fran knowing who Timothy is bug you at all? You know, having adopted kids...that we all have bio parents…”

 

“But I gave birth to her,” Lena objects and then turns to Fran.  “I gave birth to you. I don’t have that experience with any of the other kids.  It’s not better. It’s just something different. And when I know there’s someone out there who might want to know how amazing you are?  I just...I get scared...because I don’t want to share you.”

 

“I’m not a toy!” Fran explodes.  “I’m a human! You can’t share humans!”

 

Fran sees Lena’s face twitch and flinches.  She knows this is exactly what happened last time, except there weren’t five other adults here who were actually here to protect Fran.

 

“Okay.  Pause, please,” Rosa says and surprises Fran by stopping in front of her, and sitting down, like on the floor.  “I hear you’re very angry when Lena talks about you like you’re a possession. That makes so much sense. And I want you to know that there is nothing...not one thing...wrong with asserting that boundary.  You did nothing wrong.”

 

“That’s what happened last time, though,” Fran offers in a whisper.  “And then she slapped me right in my face…so it was a big mistake.”

 

“And that hurt you,” Rosa tells Fran seriously.  “Right? And scared you? But what you said...that wasn’t a mistake, Francesca.  That was your right. You have the right to not be spoken to like you’re a possession.”

 

“I do?” Fran asks.

 

“Yes, buddy.  You really do,” Jesus speaks up.  “I used to think I wasn’t a human being either.  Like you, I tried to keep my boundaries about it.  But when it became too unsafe, I had to stop trying.  I’m just saying, it makes sense that you feel like you made a mistake.  But Rosa’s right. No inappropriate language,” he warns, with a look at Moms.

 

“So…” Rosa says turning to Moms.  “Think about what just happened with Mariana.  She was expressing herself. Correct? And you mentioned you didn’t like that she swore.”

 

“Right,” Lena nods.  “I remember.”

 

“Francesca’s eleven,” Rosa begins and Fran starts feeling embarrassed, because every sentence that starts with her age ends with making her feel like a tiny speck.  Especially in a room with only adults. “And she’s a hell of a smart human being. Just because she has CP - just because you are her parents - does not mean she owes you obedience and automatic respect, regardless.”

 

“What?” Fran asks, confused.

 

“You earn respect just like you earn trust,” Rosa restates.

 

“Oh.  I didn’t know that,” Fran says.

 

“So, that means you do not have to be polite if someone breaks your boundaries,” Rosa says.

 

“Be loud?” Fran asks, super quietly.

 

“Be loud,” Rosa confirms.  “Now, there are definitely situations where it’s not...shall we say...advisable...to be loud.”

 

“Like with police,” Fran says knowingly.

 

“Right,” Rosa nods.

 

“Because it’s dangerous,” Fran continues.  “But Mom  _ is  _ a cop.  And she said I’d go to jail if I didn’t stop being so sassy.”

 

“She did,” Rosa says, just believing.  Not even asking it like a question. “So, I bet that’s very confusing.”

 

“Yeah, so...um...I’ve just basically been following the cop rules when I was home?  Except that time, I forgot…” Fran admits. “Then Mama hit me and Jesus came and got me.  And Mariana came later.”

 

Rosa turns her head so she can talk to Moms.  “Francesca is saying that she’s lived in fear for…  How long has it been?” she turns back to Fran.

 

“Five months,” Fran offers.

 

“ _ Five months _ ,” Rosa repeats.  “She’s only been out of your house for a couple of weeks.  But she’s been fearing for her safety for almost half a year.”

 

\--

 

Mariana feels sick, remembering finding Fran in the closet that day.  Having a panic attack, bleeding from the knee. Just freaked out that Stef could arrest her at any time.

 

“So, we need to deal with this.  First of all...Lena…” Rosa says. “What did you mean to say to Francesca, instead of that you don’t want to share her?”

 

“I guess...I meant I don’t want to lose her…” Lena says.

 

Mariana can see Fran not making eye contact with anyone but Rosa.

 

“Do you have anything to say back?” Rosa asks Fran softly.

 

“Just...why?” Fran admits.  “Timothy’s a stranger, basically.  They’re my moms. They wouldn’t lose me just because I want to know stuff about myself.”

 

“Do you hear what Fran’s saying?” Rosa asks.

 

“Yes,” Lena answers.

 

“Does that help clarify things for you?” Rosa asks.

 

“It does,” Lena answers.

 

“It goes without saying that it shouldn’t fall on your child’s shoulders to reassure you.  You should be reassuring her.” Rosa says. “Now, let’s talk about following police rules at home.  Stef, were you aware of this?”

 

“Not until very recently,” Stef says.

 

“Right,” Mariana spits.  “You didn’t notice her walking around on eggshells all the damn time.  We shouldn’t have to spell it out for you!”

 

But Fran knows.  They don’t notice her at all unless she’s doing something they can tease or yell at her for.  If she’s quiet, it’s like they don’t even see her at all.

 

“No, you shouldn’t,” Rosa confirms.  “So...Stef, now that you’re aware of this...what are you going to do?”

 

“Francesca?” Stef says, and Fran squirms in her seat.  “You don’t have to follow police rules at home, okay? Not ever.  Home is where you should feel safe. And if you don’t, I wanna know.  It’s my job to protect you. Not to be someone you’re afraid of.”

 

“But it’s your job to arrest people…” Fran points out, quiet.  “And you  _ did  _ basically say you’d arrest me if I talked back.  So, how am I supposed to believe you?”

 

“Stef?  Would you like to respond?” Rosa asks.

 

“Listen...my dad...your grandpa, Frank, he…uh…  He used to threaten me with going to jail if I was naughty as a kid.  He’d say I’d have to stay in there. No TV. Just bread and water. Anytime we’d drive by the prison?  He’d say, ‘ _ That’s where you go when you don’t behave when you’re big.  That’s timeout for adults _ .’”

 

“That’s how come you said it to me?  And why you said you were just trying to scare me a little?  With the timeout idea?” Fran asks.

 

“Right.  I wasn’t thinking of how you guys all experience police differently than I do.  How they’re more dangerous to you. How threatening you with them would make you more than just a little afraid.” Stef admits.

 

It’s so strange hearing Stef talk to Fran like this.  She never talks to anybody but Lena like this.

 

“Because it’s not just a timeout,” Fran points out.  

 

“Right,” Stef nods.  “I was wrong to say that, and I never want you to feel afraid of me.”

 

“Well...it might take a while...no offense…” Fran mutters.

 

“I’ll wait,” Stef says, in a tone Mari’s almost never heard her use.  Not since the early days of Jesus coming home.

 

It’s so gentle.

 

It makes Mariana wary.


	188. Saturn

Jesus knows that in this family, he has the most pull.  Whether it’s because Moms just make it clearer that he matters (or at least used to) or whether it’s because he’s out on his own now...or because he’s slowly becoming less scared of them.  Whatever the reason, Jesus knows that if he wants something from them? There’s a good chance, he can get it, where Mariana and Fran can’t.

 

Jesus hates that they treat him like that, but if he’s gonna have this advantage, he might as well use it to help out.  He’s known for a while that the only thing that Moms take seriously for this kind of change are contracts.

 

He referred to the one he made almost seven years ago, but it didn’t look like much but a list.  So he’s looked some up online.

 

It’s not lost on Jesus that Stef didn’t really have a plan for not threatening Fran with jail, just an explanation for why she did it.  This, he hopes, will help all of them.

 

Jesus waits until it’s clear Stef’s got nothing more to say to Fran and then raises his eyebrows at Pablo.

 

“Do you have something important to say to Stef and Lena?” Pablo asks.

 

“I do,” Jesus nods.  “So...do you guys remember...back when I was sixteen.  We came back from Grandpa’s cabin and a whole bunch of crap happened?  We ended up in Dr. H’s office?”

 

“We do remember that, yes,” Lena nods.

 

“Remember how there was a contract?  How you used to write out my boundaries and go over them every day?”

 

“We do,” Stef agrees.

 

“Well, I think we need to bring that back.  So I made this…” he takes off his backpack and unclasps it.  “With input from Mari and Fran. I got copies made, too. So we can each have one and follow along.  There’s space at the bottom for Moms to sign. And please… Only sign if you agree to everything.”

 

Jesus hands them out and braces himself.  “It’s gonna be really hard for us to trust that you mean what you say.  That anything is gonna be different, especially for Fran and Mari. I remembered that the only time I really felt secure in that was when Dr. H. helped us draw up a contract in her office.  We get that this is a lot, but we need you to take this seriously. Say yes. Sign it,” Jesus urges. Then, he falls silent, as they all read:

 

**We will get counseling for Mariana and let Fran go see Dr. H. weekly for trauma support (without limits on what they can share.)  We will go to the NAU workshop annually.**

 

**We will check into access needs ourselves. (Bathroom for Fran at school.)**

**We will accept all accommodations. (No swimming at school, Caroline’s Cart in stores, no scaring Fran on purpose, extra help and support with math for Fran.)  We will respect your limits. (No coming into Jesus’s apartment without permission. Or Mari and Fran’s bedroom without permission. No pizza for Jesus. No Ramen for Jesus.  No Tomas therapy for Mariana. Give Mariana a break before she gets overwhelmed. No guilt later. No recovery guilt.)**

 

**We will not threaten you with institutionalization (jail or hospitalization.)**

 

**We will not use ableist language (R-word, intelligence based insults, mean jokes, no dehumanizing language, or degrading tone.)  If you let us know something is ableist we will listen, apologize and promise not to do it again.**

 

**We will not use physical violence (hitting, pulling, forcing in any way.) We will not emotionally abuse you or neglect you.  We will not keep you from your friends.**

 

**We understand Mariana, Francesca and Jesus have aspects of invisible disability.  We understand these don’t go away at age 18. We understand that this does not mean you are lost, it just means you’ve changed.  We understand that you don’t have mental ages, just actual ages. We understand that you are not children (except Fran until she’s 18.)**

 

**We do not expect you to educate strangers.  We will not educate them ourselves with you or behind your backs.  We promise to protect and defend you from their curiosity. We understand that you don’t owe them anything.**

 

**We will not overshare about you online.  If we want to share something about you, we will ask first, and only share if you consent.**

 

**We understand that behavior is communication and we will accept it as such.  We promise to widen communication options.**

 

**We understand and accept that you have all the emotions.  If you have to yell or swear, we will do our job and stay calm.  We promise to listen to you, believe you and accept when you say no.  We understand that you need to be able to say no safely.**

 

**We promise to love you by being warm, gentle and obvious with our love.  We promise to tell you we love you often and mean it. We promise to check in with you, and be okay with feedback about how we are doing from you or a safe adult of your choosing.**

 

\--

 

Stef looks at Lena, a little stunned.  The kids made them a contract.  

 

Honestly, her first instinct, hearing Jesus explain it, had been anger.  From that insecure part of her that always just felt like she was doing a terrible job.  But looking closer at what they’ve been given, Stef pauses.

 

Is it overwhelming?  Hugely. Frighteningly.  Yes.

 

But it’s also helpful.

 

As someone said here this week: there is no guidebook for raising kids with disabilities.  Every disability is so different and every kid is so different, it would be impossible. And it’s not even a whole book, it’s a single page.  

 

“I think this looks so good,” Pablo praises.

 

“It really does,” Rosa adds.  “Excellent.”

 

“So detailed,” Olivia adds, impressed.

 

“Thanks,” Jesus says. And it strikes Stef that this might be the first time she’s ever seen him able to accept praise without ducking.  Without becoming visibly embarrassed or uncomfortable.

 

It strikes her that she doesn’t want to ruin that.

 

“So, can we go over this?” Lena asks.  “Because the first thing I see here, is getting counseling for you, Mariana.  And I think Mom and I would like input from your team here. Maybe from Rosa specifically...about who she’d recommend.”

 

Mariana nods, looking startled.

 

“We have the resource packet at the end of the week,” Olivia reminds.

 

“And I can circle a few names,” Rosa volunteers.  “Mariana, would you prefer a woman?”

 

Mariana nods again.

 

“Okay.  And I have some details about what you’d want to work through, based on your answers.  But I’m happy to hear more details from you if you want to share privately before you go.  Just so I can recommend the right people.”

 

“And Fran to see Dr. H,” Stef reads.  “I honestly never thought about this, but what a great idea.”

 

“Why?” Fran asks.

 

“Because...if you needed someone to talk to...besides Mama or me...Jesus or Mariana...or your friends…  It’s just a good idea to have a deeper bench,” she says, cringing at the sports analogy that Francesca won’t get, because the only sports she likes are women’s gymnastics and dance.

 

“And uh...you guys should know...that I’m taking Fran to see Dr. H. tomorrow after school,” Jesus adds.

 

“We’re glad.  It’s always good to have more people to talk to,” Lena adds, surprising Jesus.  Stef can see it on his face.

 

“But last time you wouldn’t let me…” Mariana points to something on the paper and Rosa and Fran both glance over in unison.

 

“Limits on what she could share,” Fran says darkly.  “You’re not supposed to do that this time.”

 

“That’s a good thing to point out,” Olivia nods.  “So you moms know they’re not just signing off on the idea of counseling but also knowing that you both are free to discuss whatever you need to while you’re there.”

 

Stef watches Lena’s pen track down the page.  She’s checking things off and juggling her phone where she’s simultaneously making notes in it.  “And we’ve heard from others here that the workshop is annual...and some parents do come every year.  My only concern is if finances are an issue…” she ventures.

 

“We’ll make something work,” Stef agrees.  (She knows that insurance will cover Francesca speaking to Dr. H. and that hopefully someone from the list Rosa provides will also be covered.  Without needing to pay out of pocket for Mariana’s rehab, they might actually have more to spare.)

 

“Mom and I will follow up with these access needs and make sure you have what you need, Fran.  Mariana, we’ll respect these limits, and cancel therapy with Tomas indefinitely...and Jesus, we’ll steer clear of these foods.” Lena says, continuing to make notes in her phone.  “We’re so sorry we came into your apartment without asking, Jesus, and into your room without asking, Mariana and Fran. We shouldn’t have done that, and we won’t anymore.”

 

Stef refers to the contract and takes a deep breath.  “Definitely, there will be no more threats of jail or hospitalization.  Mama and I are so very sorry for that. Mariana, we should have never threatened you like that.  And Francesca, either.”

 

“Because you get that when Mariana messed up our room, it wasn’t her fault?  Because she gets frustrated when nobody listens? And it wasn’t mine either, because I was just trying to catch myself and I got shoved?  And before that, I was defending my family?”

 

Stef blinks, surprised. Fran’s a bright kid, there’s no denying that.  But Stef just forgets how much kids pick up on. And she has no idea what Fran means about defending family, but if Fran is saying it, then Stef needs to practice believing her.

 

“We do get that,” Stef nods.  “And we weren’t fair to either one of you.  We should have never scared you like that.”

 

“Or said ‘two kids with brain damage’?” Fran asks, and Stef winces.

 

“Right…” Stef agrees weakly.  “We shouldn’t have said that either.”

 

“Because, no offense, but that’s ableist language,” Fran points out.  “To say that in a joking mean way?”

 

“You’re right about that,” Lena nods.  “We’re so sorry we ever said that. We can tell it hurt your feelings.  No more ableist language. We promise.”

 

Stef clears her throat, and looks at Mariana.  “No more hitting. I promise. And I’m sorry.”

 

Mariana looks away, blinking back tears.

 

“Francesca?” Lena asks.  “I promise I won’t hit you ever again.”

 

“Well, what happens instead?” Fran asks.

 

“What happens instead is…  We…” Lena ventures. “We take a break.  We call one of the people on our team. We take deep breaths.  And I wait until I’m calm before we keep talking.”

 

Francesca giggles and claps a hand over her mouth.  “Sorry,” she says, but she can’t seem to stop laughing.

 

“It sounds hard to believe, I know,” Stef agrees.

 

“Yeah, like when are you guys ever calm?” Fran manages, still giggling, and seeming more than a little concerned that she can’t stop.

 

“Okay, buddy,” Jesus whispers.  “I know you’re feeling a lot right now.  Maybe even kinda panicked. It’s okay to have feelings.”

 

“I can’t stop,” Fran giggles.

 

“I know.  Look, Olivia’s coming over with some beads.  You wanna borrow my headphones and listen to some of your music?  Spell some words with her?” Jesus asks.

 

Fran nods.

 

“She was panicking?” Lena asks, horrified.  

 

“I would have just been telling her to stop being silly…” Stef comments under her breath.

 

“You guys know what her natural laugh sounds like, though…  That’s not it,” Jesus points out, once Fran’s occupied with Olivia behind the chairs.  “Not to mention she looked pretty freaked out…”

 

“So, what’s recommended for something like that?” Lena asks.  “A reaction like that?” Stef notices she doesn’t seem to know whether to look at Jesus or Rosa or Pablo.  She’s even including Mariana in the look, in case she might have ideas, too.

 

“Well...from someone who has experience with panic...she might need help regulating.  For me, rocking helped, but she might not be open to that. She digs a lot of sensory stuff though.  Soft things. Or those beads,” Jesus explains.

 

“What does it do, though?” Stef presses.

 

“Soothes,” Mariana says.  

 

And Stef shouldn’t be surprised.  Mariana’s always insisted she has a connection with Fran because she, Jesus and Fran were all NICU preemies.  She’s said she has memories of it. Stef never gave it much thought.

 

“The sensory issues...and the self-regulating and soothing difficulties?” Stef asks, looking at Mariana.  “Do you think those are preemie things?”

 

Mariana raises her eyebrows, and even looks behind her before realizing that yes, Stef is asking her opinion.  “Mm-hmm. I think so. But they’re also trauma things.” Mariana adds.

 

“Right.  I was gonna say.  Being a preemie is pretty stacked with trauma already.  Then add surgeries...abuse...and it just kinda...I don’t know…  It adds up,” Jesus nods.

 

“So, how do we know if she’s being silly and needs to get herself together or if it’s panic?” Stef asks.

 

“Remember, the benefit of the doubt,” Pablo says.  “That’s what you give them. So you assume that Fran needs your help.  Not your correction. Offer her a break the way you saw Jesus do. She’s still a child, and this is a lot for her.  It’s very scary. Her laughing like this? Not being able to get herself together? That’s her telling you,  _ ‘Mom, help me.’ _ ”

 

“The opposite of your dad,” Lena reminds and Stef blows out a breath.  

 

“That is true.  The opposite of him definitely would be to assume she needs help instead of punishment.”

 

Stef looks over her shoulder, watching as Fran spells not only every member of their family, but their friend, Dominique.  Pearl. Levi. Olivia. Rosa. Pablo.  

 

She thinks about their circle widening.  It gives Stef an odd feeling, but a good one, too.


	189. Hollow Our Time

Mariana’s never really been in on this kind of thing before.  She knows from years ago - before Moms’ other contract with Jesus, even - that Callie had to sign one saying that she promised to not exploit Jesus by taking or using any pictures of him without consent.  For Callie, it definitely seemed to drive the point home.

 

She hadn’t shared any of the pictures Lena did on their birthday.  She helped get their statement about them out instead. Mariana hopes that talking about this will yield the same kind of results.

 

But honestly, Mariana could use some headphones right about now.  There are so many words. So many promises. The conversation is going by so fast that Mariana’s struggling to keep up.  (At the same time, she knows, they are on a clock, sort of.) They only have until 7:00 PM.)

 

Still, Rosa notices Mariana struggling to follow along and offers to take her paper.  Mariana hands it over, confused. And Rosa folds it so that only the paragraph they’re on right now is showing.  The text still looks bunched together and it’s hard to focus on, but this is better.

 

Mariana nods her thanks, and then turns to check on Francesca.  She’s singing softly to herself and letting all the water beads just kind of fall through her fingers onto the carpet.  Olivia’s doing the same, not singing.

 

“We’re going to do better about checking in with you,” Lena says.  “It’s not your responsibility to keep it all together for us. And we want to know how you’re feeling about things.” Lena says.

 

“And do what?” Jesus asks.  “If Mariana or Fran tells you how they’re doing, or that they’re mad at you?  Then, what?”

 

“Well, I think it says down here...we’ll listen and stay calm,” Stef points out.

 

“What about friends?” Mariana asks.  “You can’t keep isolating Fran.”

 

“Have we?” Stef asks, and Mariana gives her a dirty look.  

 

“Yes.  You know we have friend-time Saturday nights.  So no whatever’s out to eat pizza. And grounding her shouldn’t include cutting her off from friends,” Mariana insists.

 

“What’s the point of grounding her then?” Stef asks.

 

“What the fuck?” Mariana asks.

 

“Mariana, I’m honestly asking.  I’m sorry. I’m clueless here. Back in my day, grounded meant school and home.  No TV. No phone.”

 

“But Francesca keeps in touch with her safe people via her phone,” Pablo offers.  “So, grounding can look like no TV. No movies. No Netflix. But to ground her from her friends is to take away her access to safe people and her community.  Mariana’s right.”

 

“And like...no grounding for stuff we can’t help…” Mariana tries.  “Don’t take our stuff or whatever.”

 

“And don’t ground Fran for not doing well in math,” Jesus adds.  “Not when she’s trying as hard as she can try.”

 

“Good.  These are all good points,” Rosa nods.  “And I see your moms taking a lot of notes,” she points out.  

 

“So, Saturday night open for friends.  No grounding from friends. No grounding for disability reasons…” Lena lists to herself.

 

“We have learned a lot about disability so far this week, and we’ve seen your answers about how we’ve treated you like you’re younger, or gone.” Stef says uncomfortably, looking to Mariana.  “We won’t do that. You’re an adult, and having a disability does not make you less of one.”

 

Mariana nods.  “Can we slow down?” she asks, adjusting her paper so it shows the next point.

 

“Yes, absolutely,” Stef answers.

 

Mariana’s more than a little shocked when Lena takes her time introducing the next point.  And pauses a lot between words. “We’ll definitely change our approach when strangers ask you guys invasive questions.  I’m not going to insist you tell them about you, or tell them myself. I’m happy to tell them whatever you’re comfortable hearing me say.”

 

“Fuck off?” Mariana offers.

 

Stef actually laughs.  “Oh, there have been times I’ve wanted to say that, believe me, Miss Thang.”

 

Mariana looks away.

 

“What?” Stef asks.  “What did I say?”

 

“You said no mean nicknames…” Mariana mutters.

 

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t know you felt that way about that one,” Stef says, genuinely startled.

 

“Well, why would you?” Mariana asks.  “But....I hear it...and it’s like...you saying I’m full of myself.  Too dramatic. Whatever.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Stef says again.  “I won’t call you that anymore.  But I do understand. I’ll have no problem communicating that sentiment.”

 

“I know we already discussed this, but we’re not going to share anymore about you online without asking first.  Like I said, I’ve taken down my Facebook and Twitter accounts, and only have Instagram now. You guys are all welcome to look through and let me know if there’s anything you’re not comfortable with.”

 

“We don’t care if you take pics of the grocery list, Mama,” Jesus says wryly.

 

“Okay, but I do more than that!  Sometimes I find cute things at Target!” Lena objects, smiling.

 

“Next point, we do understand that behavior is communication,” Stef says.  “We’ll accept it and we’ll widen your options, especially, Mariana. So, texting, messaging, whatever you need.  It all counts.”

 

“And no giving her a hard time for it,” Jesus adds.  “Or Fran, either, if she’d rather not talk face to face with you.”

 

“Right,” Stef agrees.  “We understand that you might not feel comfortable doing that right now.”

 

Mariana’s doing her best to follow along.  It looks like they’re almost done, but her head is spinning.  She needs a break, but can’t ask. Wishes she could just end up in another break room with quiet and dark and no other people.

 

“Do you need to pause?” Jesus asks.

 

Mariana closes her eyes.  “It’s fine.”

 

“It’s okay if it’s not,” Lena says.

 

“Please,” Mariana scoffs.  “It’s never been okay. Fran’s not listening.  If I bail...who’s going to...do whatever?”

 

“I can,” Jesus volunteers.  “Pablo and I can hold it down with Moms and the contract.”

 

“We have extra headphones,” Rosa volunteers and walks over to a drawer to retrieve them and then to the swing in case Mariana wants to use it.  

 

She does.

 

But she keeps an eye on Moms, just in case they think she’s not trying hard enough or something.

 

“If you think it’s okay Mariana takes a break right now, you might try being explicit about your support,” Rosa advises.  “It’s common for us to feel nervous about changes, even if they’re good.”

 

“Right,” Stef nods.  “Honey, you can take a break.  We understand you need to do that before getting overwhelmed, right?” 

 

Mariana nods, stunned.  Because it’s like, who is she even talking to with this gentle tone and kind face?

 

Mariana still takes her time walking over to the swing and fumbles a lot getting in because she can’t stop thinking about what Moms really think right now - but might be holding back on - because they’re in front of people.

 

\--

 

Francesca loves the feeling of the beads, and seeing them spell out everybody’s name, and the sound of her favorite music from all the live action Disney movies.   _ Aladdin _ , especially.  She loves Jasmine’s song about not going speechless.

 

The water beads are super calming and the weird laughing that Fran was doing has stopped, thank goodness.  It was awful. She was sure Moms were going to be so mad and make her go off with them so they could yell at her in private or something, but that didn’t happen.

 

She’s not doing a very good job being part of Family Day, but at least Olivia is here with her, just doing what she’s doing and not making Fran rush to go back and join.  There’s no way she’s ready for that anyway.

 

Fran notices Mari walking away with Rosa toward the swing, with a pair of headphones on she’s never seen.

 

She checks on the circle again.

 

Now only Jesus, Pablo and Moms are left in it.

 

\--

 

Jesus takes a breath and studies Lena.  Tries to remind himself he’s not all on his own here.  Pablo’s next to him. Dudley’s here. Mari and Fran, Rosa and Olivia are all still here.  So he’s okay.

 

“Even though it’s been said,” Lena begins.  “We understand and accept that all of you - especially Mariana and Fran - have a variety of emotions - not just positive ones.  If you have to yell or swear, we will do our best to stay calm. We do promise to listen, believe you and accept when you say no.”

 

“Okay...I’m sorry but no.  Your best? It hasn’t been good enough.  So...we gotta figure something out. Because when Fran just raised her voice at you, I saw the thing your face did.  And apparently when Mariana yelled earlier you were all hung up that she swore. So, how do we know this is any different?” Jesus asks and glances at Pablo.

 

“We’re open to suggestions,” Stef says.

 

“It’s different because they have support now,” Pablo says.  “Because they’re learning it’s a good thing to ask for help. To maybe...tag each other out when one gets overwhelmed.  The important thing is…” Pablo says with a meaningful look at Moms. “You cannot break their boundaries. Their trust in you is only just starting to grow.  It’s very fragile right now. They need you to do what you say you’re gonna do. And not go back on it. Get any help you need for that to happen.”

 

Lena takes notes, typing fast into her phone.

 

“Thank you,” Stef says, looking uncomfortable as she addresses Pablo.  “Are we ready for the last point?”

 

Jesus nods.  

 

“We do promise to love you guys by being warm, gentle and obvious with our love.  We promise to tell you we love you often and mean it. We promise to check in with you and be okay with feedback about how we’re doing from you or a safe adult of your choosing.”

 

“Maybe set aside time for it?  How you used to with me? I know Mariana really needs that and I’m sure Fran does, too.  Just check in with them how you did with me. Let them know you love them. Let them know it’s safe to bring up any issues they have, in any way they can,” Jesus offers.

 

“Sure.  We can bring back Porch Time,” Lena says.

 

“It’s just...I don’t think it’s fair to just give them my castoffs.  You know?” Jesus says, careful. “Like...maybe they’ll want that? But maybe they’ll want something that’s theirs?  Something that’s just you and them individually? All we all ever want is to be able to share with you. Come to you.  Whatever. And for that to be a safe course of action.”

 

“We’ll make time,” Lena promises.

 

“Also...it’s not in here, but...I’d like to be super obvious about the fact that Fran does not need any blowback for leaving the house like she did.  Mariana and I taught her that if a situation feels unsafe, she can call us. That we’ll come get her, no matter the time. I need you guys to know that if she or Mari has to leave in the future because they feel unsafe, then that’s a thing that has to happen.  No judgement. No punishment,” Jesus looks to Stef and Lena in turn.

 

“I still feel like that doesn’t teach them great life skills,” Stef says, crossing her arms.

 

“You prefer they stay somewhere they’re being hurt?” Pablo asks.  “Because that’s what your way teaches them.”

 

“Well, of course we don’t want them to stay in abusive relationships,” Lena says.

 

“Okay then.  Don’t give them a hard time for leaving when it’s their right,” Pablo points out.  

 

(Jesus is super impressed that he just puts it out there like that.)

 

“It looks like it’s about time to go, but before you do, I think Jesus, Mariana and Francesca would love it if you both signed this.  And for you to know that we’ll be checking in with them, and with you, to see how things are going,” Pablo says.

 

Before it happens, Jesus goes and checks with Fran and Mariana to see if either one wants to witness Moms signing the contract, but neither one does.  (Probably because they’re positive that a piece of paper will not actually change anything. But Jesus hopes it will.)

 

Even though Mari and Fran don’t want to watch, Jesus walks around so he’s behind both Stef and Lena, to see them both sign the contract.  Pablo writes down his contact info on Jesus’s copy. (He knows Rosa and Olivia will do the same with Mari and Fran’s.)

 

Jesus keeps the signed one, and gives Moms a blank one to take home.

 

“Hey.  It’s time to head back,” Jesus says, and Fran reluctantly takes off Jesus’s headphones.  

 

“I hate that I have to leave all this here,” Fran complains.  “I love it.”

 

“I know…” Mariana agrees.  “I love that swing…” 

 

Olivia helps Fran pick up and then makes sure to recollect the bracelets she’s wearing, too.

 

“I want you to know that I’m gonna check in with you.  Once a week. Which day would you like?” Olivia asks, writing down her number so she and Fran can text.

 

“Monday.  I hate Mondays,” Fran admits.

 

“I hear you,” Olivia agrees.  “Well, maybe this way you’ll have something to look forward to on Mondays, then.” Olivia encourages.

 

“Bye,” Fran says, throwing her arms around Olivia’s neck.  “Thanks for your number. I’ll text you mine if Jesus and Mariana say I can.”

 

“Yes, buddy, you can.  Thanks for remembering to ask first, though.” Jesus says.

 

“No problem,” Fran shrugs.

 

“Bye,” Mariana says to Rosa, with a long look at her.  “Sorry...it was just...a lot…”

 

“No, I know.  Don’t apologize.  I’ll get in touch with you...but it’ll probably be a couple weeks into November.  These workshops take it out of me.” Rosa admits.

 

“I can DM you?” Mari asks.

 

“Please,” Rosa nods.  

 

Jesus turns to Pablo.  “Bye. Hey, thank you so much for being here and for all your help and everything.  Sorry we didn’t really get the chance to hang or get to know each other or whatever.”

 

“There’ll be time,” Pablo encourages.  “Are you a hugger?”

 

“Not so much,” Jesus admits.  “Thanks for asking. You wanna walk out with us?”

 

“Always,” Pablo nods.

 

“Bye Moms,” Jesus says, waving over his shoulder.  He can tell they’re shocked that none of them are walking over to hug them goodbye.  Fran and Mari don’t even say it, they just wave.

 

“Bye.  Good to see you,” Stef calls.

 

“We love you guys,” Lena adds.

 

“Okay,” Jesus calls back, and then the door closes.

 

And just like that, Family Day is over.


	190. God It's Late

Francesca’s just kind of staring out the window in the car as Jesus drives.  She tries not to think of the homework she still has to do. Or about Moms and all their promises.  Or about anything really.

 

She might fall asleep because the next thing Fran knows, she wakes up and she’s inside Jesus’s apartment.  Fran rubs her eyes, feeling embarrassed.

 

“You carried me?” she asks.  It sounds like she blames him, because her asleep-voice makes her sound crabby, but really, she likes the idea of being carried.

 

“I did,” Jesus nods.  “Mariana turned in a little early tonight.  She’s over at Dom’s. And you’re welcome to go back to sleep if you need to.  I’ll write you a note so your teachers know not to hassle you about your homework.”

 

“But that won’t do anything,” Fran grumbles.  “It just means I’ll have double the homework tomorrow.  Can you just help me now?” she asks.

 

“Sure, buddy.  I just don’t want you more stressed than you have to be.” Jesus says, trying to be quiet pulling out a chair.  But it’s actually super loud scraping.

 

“Are you?” Fran asks, reaching into her backpack.  “More stressed than you have to be?”

 

“I’m good, buddy.  I appreciate that you care, but I’m the grown up here.  It’s not your job to take care of me,” Jesus says.

 

Fran struggles through a ton of science, math and health homework.  It’s all her worst subjects. Jesus is kind of squirmy about it, too, because neither one of them are good at science or math and health is embarrassing.

 

But eventually, they get it all done.  Jesus even reads to her for twenty minutes while she’s getting ready for bed.

 

It’s 9:22 by the time she climbs on the air mattress.  Even though she’s exhausted, Fran can’t turn her brain off.  “Jesus? Are you disappointed in me?”

 

“Not at all,” he answers, crouched down by the air mattress.  (It fills something inside Fran to hear him say that. To hear him sound so sure.)  “Why would you ask that?”

 

“Because I laughed about Moms being calm.  I laughed in their faces, Jesus. That was, like, the most offense-iest thing I’ve ever done in life,” Fran points out.

 

“The word you want is offensive,” Jesus corrects, with a small smile on his face.  “And I know that was you feeling panicked, buddy. So do Moms.”

 

“Yeah, ‘cause you and Mari were there to tell them,” Fran points out.  “What about when we go back home? Nobody’s gonna be there to tell them the truth, so they’ll believe it.”

 

“What do you mean?” Jesus asks.

 

“Like...how I say something...or Mari does and Moms are just like...mad at us...or they think we’re stupid.  But Brandon says the same exact thing and they’re like, ‘ _ Oh _ .’” Fran tries to explain.

 

“Are you saying...you want someone there to be sure Moms take you seriously?” Jesus asks.

 

“Yes?” Fran asks.  “And also as backup.  They won’t really listen to us.  So I want there to be someone they really will actually listen to.”

 

“That makes a lot of sense.  You can always call me, or Dom, or Pearl…  Levi, or Olivia...and I bet even Rosa or Pablo.  They’d help,” Jesus urges.

 

“You trust too easily,” Fran says darkly.

 

Jesus makes a face like he goes blank for a second.  Dudley whines.

 

Fran just freezes.  She’s so worried about whatever she did to make Jesus dissociate that she can’t even move.  Luckily, Dudley’s licking him, and soon he blinks and focuses on her again.

 

“I’m sorry,” Fran whispers.  “For whatever I said. I promise, if you tell me, I’ll never say it again.”

 

“It’s okay, just…  Why’d you say I trust too easily?” he asks.

 

“Just...because you believe Moms?  No problem? Like...you just think I’ll be able to call any of those people?  You don’t even think Moms will take our phones away. Even though they would, if they were mad at us.  They always do,” Fran says, picking at a thread on Slothy.

 

“It’s in the contract, Francesca.  Even if you’re grounded, or something.  They’re not allowed to isolate you from your friends.”

 

Fran sighs.  “It’s just a piece of paper, Jesus.  You’ll see. Once it’s just us and them again?  They’ll do whatever they want.” She covers up and makes sure Slothy’s in one hand, and Night Night’s in the other.  

 

Then, she goes right to sleep.

 

\--

 

Mariana just barely manages to change into her pajamas before falling into bed next to Dominique.

 

“How was the thing?  Awful?” Dominique checks.

 

“Pretty much,” Mari confirms.  Now that her eyes are closed, and it’s dark, she can talk a little.  “Weird as hell. Like Moms were pod people. Like, Stepford wives. Best behavior.  What the hell ever…”

 

“Sounds weird,” Dominique confirms.  “I’m sorry. How are you?”

 

“They said...like...I don’t have to go to therapy with Tomas anymore.  And they’ll get me counseling. Not limit what I can say...but…”

 

“You’ll believe it when you see it?” Dominique guesses.

 

“Maybe not even then,” Mariana admits.

 

“Hey, how was Rosa Martinez?” Dominique asks.

 

“God…  I’m gonna cry…” Mariana manages, her throat tightening with the promise of tears.  “She was...everything. It was like...I wasn’t alone. Finally. Like she saw me. Got me.  Fully. Pretty damn close to fully. For the first time in...over a year…”

 

“That’s amazing,” Dominique says, and Mariana can hear that she means it.

 

“How are you?” Mariana asks back.  “I know you’re Halloweening, but are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, I’m just….working on my costume.  Burlap’s a bitch to iron…” Dominique yawns.

 

“Do I wanna know?” Mariana asks.

 

“I mean, as long as you don’t ask about my secret project…” Dominique teases.

 

“Wait.  You have a secret project?  Since when?” Mariana asks.

 

“Uh, since, like last month.  You know this,” Dominique points out.  “I mean, not what it is, but still.”

 

“Oh.  I’m falling asleep so...but I have to be up early.  I wanna go to Anchor Beach and talk to Timothy, for Fran.”

 

“You can’t wait ‘til after school?  Just saying, you’re already exhausted.  Maybe you could use the sleep.”

 

“Oh, I definitely could.  Timothy’s there early though.  I don’t know if he’ll stay late.” Mariana points out.

 

“Need a ride?” Dominique asks.  

 

“You don’t wanna drive me at 7:45.  Jesus is going anyway. I’ll just ride with him.” Mariana insists.

 

“Alright.  As long as you’re sure.” Dominique nods.

 

“Might be better if he and I both show up.  United front. Be nice to our sister, or else…” Mariana jokes and yawns.  “Is your mom dressing up, too? For Halloween?”

 

“She’s so excited to bust out her Maleficent costume again.  Always looking for an excuse to wear those damn horns,” Dominique says fondly.

 

“Aw, I love your mom...and you…” Mariana rolls over, comforted that Dom’s nearby.

 

“I love her, too.  And you,” Dominique returns.

 

Mariana hears it distantly as she starts to drift off.

 

\--

 

Jesus makes himself as comfortable as possible in the spare room, with Dudley at his side.  Then, he starts up his laptop gets his headphones on and video chats both Levi and Pearl. It’s close to midnight there.  Almost 10 PM here. Fran is sleeping hard. But Jesus is pretty sure he’s never sleeping.

 

“Hey,” Levi greets.

 

“Hey,” Jesus says back, keeping his voice low.

 

“Oh, hi!” Pearl greets, popping up on the screen too.  Jesus can see that she and Cleo are in the living room / Pearl’s room and Levi and Panther are in his room downstairs.

 

“I can’t believe you’re still up, Pearl.  Isn’t your bedtime, like, four hours ago?”

 

“No,” she answers, laughing.

 

At the same time, Levi insists, “Yes,” with a huge smile.

 

“Okay, fine.  Maybe I was dozing,” Pearl admits.  “But I left my phone turned up, just in case my Avoiders needed me.”

 

“Aw,” Jesus laughs.  “Well, I definitely wouldn’t mind talking through some stuff with you guys if you’re up for it.”

 

“Yeah,” Levi agrees.  “Absolutely.”

 

“How was it?” Pearl asks, sobering.

 

“It was…” Jesus searches for a word to describe what he feels.  “I don’t even know. It was so weird, though. Seriously. Seeing Stef and Lena act how they were acting...it felt…  Well, it  _ felt _ like that.  Like an act.”

 

“You felt they were being disingenuous?” Pearl asks.

 

“Yeah,” Jesus nods.  “Hold on one sec.” He gets up.  Lowers his headphones and checks that Fran’s still sleeping soundly.  Then, he sits back down. “Sorry, just had to make sure Fran’s asleep.”

 

“Why?” Pearl asks.

 

“Because there was this whole other thing...with her…  Where she said something. And it’s not her fault. You know, she doesn’t know it’s a thing,” Jesus admits.

 

“But it is,” Levi encourages gently.

 

“Yeah,” Jesus nods.  “We were talking after...and she told me I trust too easily.  Like, she was really bitter about it…”

 

“Ouch,” Levi winces.

 

“It’s not just that…” Jesus admits.  “Do you remember back when we were up here the first time?  When Stef ran that background check on you?” he asks Pearl.

 

“I told her to do that, Jesus,” Pearl reminds, patient.  “I wanted your parents to be comfortable letting you spend time with me.”

 

“It was still messed up…” Levi puts in, no doubt remembering the end of their last trip to the cabin, and Jesus opening up about this exact thing.  Except not.

 

“I know…  It’s just...I’m trying to tell you about something...something related...but not that.”

 

“Okay.  I’m sorry,” Pearl apologizes.

 

“Me, too,” Levi adds.  “Go ahead.”

 

“So...before that…  I asked if I could hang out with you.  And Lena… She told me how I always see the best in people.  But she said it like she...pitied me...almost.”

 

“She told you you were guileless...and that felt like pity.  Am I following so far?” Pearl asks.

 

“She told me that...and I felt...blamed,” Jesus manages.  “Like, she was thinking back to that day I was a kid… Just cluelessly taking a ride from someone looking to steal people…  I felt like she was saying I was a dumbass, guys.”

 

“So, when Fran said you’re too trusting tonight, it may have nudged that old wound,” Pearl points out, gentle.

 

“I think so,” Jesus nods.

 

“Well, you’re one of the wisest people I know,” Levi offers.  “You were there for me, and taught me more about how to deal with trauma than maybe anyone else ever.”

 

“But they meant I’m gullible,” Jesus pushes back.  “And I am that. So how is it different?”

 

“Wisdom and naivete aren’t mutually exclusive,” Pearl says gently.  “You can be both simultaneously. And I’m guilty of the same thing you are, Jesus - almost exactly -”

 

“It’s not a crime,” Levi interjects, soft.

 

“What?” Pearl asks.

 

“Saying you’re guilty implies that you did something criminal.  What happened to you guys? Taking a ride? Giving one? Those aren’t crimes.  Y’all aren’t the guilty ones here. The ones who hurt you are.” Levi maintains calmly.

 

“Thank you, Levi,” Pearl says, blinking back tears.

 

“Yeah, thanks…” Jesus nods.

 

“My point is...I did a very similar thing to what you did as a child...and I am positive that you’d never dream of calling me a dumbass.” Pearl says.

 

“You’re right about that,” Jesus agrees, clearing his throat.  “Also, that’s a thing He used to call me. Like, every day. And I’ve never been book-smart.  So...it’s just easy to buy into it.”

 

“So?  You’re life-smart,” Levi says.  “There’s more to life than books.”

 

“I love you guys.  I don’t know if I’ve said that lately...but I really honestly do,” Jesus says.  “Maybe sleep-deprivation is making me goofy. I don’t know. Just feeling sentimental.”

 

“Well, I know from experience that being around unsafe people again, makes you keenly aware of what you do have, around the safe ones,” Pearl says quietly.  

 

“We can let you get some sleep.  But if y’all wanna talk more tomorrow, call us.  Or we’ll call you,” Levi says.

 

“We love you, too,” Pearl says.

 

“Bye,” Levi says.  And then his face disappears.

 

\--

 

“Ugh,” Stef says, falling into bed, after securing the kids’ new contract to the inside of their closet door, where they’ll be sure to see it each day, but it won’t be obvious to anybody walking into their room.

 

“When is this feeling going to fade?” Lena asks, climbing into bed beside her.

 

“That we’re the worst mothers in the world?” Stef asks.  “I’ll let you know when I know. What I do know is now that I’m not wearing the shirt anymore?  I am done persisting. At least for now. I need a break.”

 

“Agreed,” Lena nods.  She flips the bedside light off and whispers.  “I’m scared. For them to come home.”

 

“Me, too,” Stef says back.  “We’ve messed up so badly already.  What’s to stop us from doing that again, or worse?”

 

“I think…  The question is, do we want the kids in our lives or not?  If we do, we need to work on ourselves. If we don’t care, then we can keep doing whatever we want.”

 

“Fran’s still a minor,” Stef points out.

 

“Right, I know,” Lena yawns.  “So, we have to do better.” She pauses.  “You know, I realize now...we never asked Mariana about the accident.  What was going on there.”

 

“Maybe it’s too soon,” Stef suggests.  “Maybe we wait until the trust has time to grow a little.  How are we gonna carve out time for Mariana and Fran each day?”

 

“We just…  We do it. That’s all,” Lena says.

 

Her phone chimes and it reminds Lena to turn it down:

 

**_Hope:_ **

_ Family Day is always intense, but you’ve got this.  See you tomorrow. _

 

**_Lena:_ **

_ Thanks.  See you then. _

 

Lena sends her text and then puts her phone on silent.

 

“Who was that?” Stef asks.

 

“Hope.  Making sure we don’t bail,” Lena comments wryly.

 

“No one’s bailing.  You have my permission to drag me back there, kicking and screaming.”

 

“Oh, really?” Lena asks amused.

 

But she never hears Stef’s answer.  

 

She’s asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow.


	191. On The Other Side

“Why are you guys both here?” Fran grumbles when Mariana and Jesus are both in Jesus’s car with Fran.  “Lena’s not even at school this week, you know?”

 

“I know,” Mariana comments, glad for her sunglasses.  “But remember what I promised? About talking to Timothy for you?  I’m gonna do that today.”

 

“Wait.  You are?” Fran asks.  “Will you tell him the second I turn eighteen - in six and a half years - I wanna know him?”

 

Mariana nods.

 

“And will you get his email address for me and keep it?” Fran asks.

 

Jesus raises his eyebrows.

 

“What?” Fran asks.

 

“Nothing.  Just...thinking about how we’d work that into casual conversation.  Right, Dudley?” Jesus asks.

 

Dudley licks Jesus’s cheek.

 

“You’re going, too?” Fran asks.

 

“Yeah.  Safety in numbers, right?” Jesus asks.  “Anyway, I don’t want you to worry about this.  Just go to school and do your best.”

 

“Will you tell Moms?” Fran worries.  “I mean...do they have to know?”

 

“We’re on your side,” Mariana promises.  “Not Moms’.”

 

“We won’t tell them,”  Jesus promises.

 

They’re walking into school - Fran between Jesus and Mariana, holding their hands - when she catches Mari’s attention again:

 

“It was a Thursday when I met him.  I had choir then, too.” Fran points out.

 

“Listen...you’re not doing anything wrong here, I promise,” Mariana says.  “Lena’s not even here. Okay?”

 

“You’re not staying all day, are you?” Fran asks.

 

“No,” Jesus shakes his head as kids mill around.  Even to Mariana, Jesus looks extra tall in the middle of all the tiny kids.

 

“Okay, because no offense, but that would be super embarrassing…” Fran says.

 

“Bye, buddy.  I’ll be back to pick you up at 3:00.  And then we have that thing,” Jesus reminds.

 

Fran smiles, unsure.  “Do I have to? Maybe I’ll be okay without the thing…”

 

It takes Mariana a second to decode what they’re talking about.  Dr. H. Fran’s having second thoughts.

 

“Listen, I don’t wanna do my thing, either,” Mari admits.  “But Avoiders...we can do scary things, can’t we? If we do them together?”

 

“I guess…” Fran admits.  Then, she surprises Mari completely and wraps her arms around her.  “Thank you for doing all this…” she says. Then she turns and does the same to Jesus, who’s ready, with his arms open.  He lifts Fran off the ground, he’s hugging her so well.

 

“You’re welcome, buddy.  We love you. Have whatever kinda day you have, okay?” he encourages, setting her back on her feet and holding on to her until she’s steady.

 

Mariana blinks and notices Fran’s three friends all there to walk her to class.  

 

“Hi,” Isabella greets, giving Mariana a hug.  “You guys are dropping Fran off?”

 

“Yeah,” Fran nods.

 

“That’s so cool.  Hi, Jesus. Hi, Dudley,” Isabella greets.

 

“Hey,” Jesus says back.

 

“Ready?” Shane asks.

 

“Yeah, ‘cause Shane took forever getting here this morning, so we’re about to be so late…” Kimani teases.

 

“No, I didn’t!” Shane objects, laughing.  He puts an arm around Fran, and Kimani takes her other hand.  Isabella offers to carry her backpack to her locker.

 

“Thanks,” Fran says.  “Bye!” she calls behind her.

 

Mariana waves, and finds herself tearing up.

 

\--

 

They wait until the halls clear of kids and teachers.  Mariana and Jesus hang out in the library until the first bell.  

 

Jesus comments wryly, “Tried to talk to her about the thing last night, and she just...sounded way depressed.  Said I trusted too easily. Like I just believed Moms were going to suddenly change?”

 

“Well...maybe she’ll open up at the other thing,” Mariana says, indicating therapy with Dr. H.  “You’ll stay with her?”

 

“Yeah, definitely.  I mean, if she wants me to.  If not, I’ll just be in the waiting room.”

 

Mariana checks the time.  8:05. “Okay. First hour’s started.  Timothy doesn’t have class now.” She stands.  Hesitates.

 

Jesus reaches out to steady her.  “Okay?”

 

“Yeah...just...are you?” Mariana asks.  “It’s school.”

 

“It is,” Jesus nods.  “But it helps to be here with you.  To see that Fran has friends around her.  She’s not isolated like we were.”

 

“So, let’s go?” Mariana asks.

 

“Sure,” Jesus nods.

 

\--

 

Timothy’s trying to make the most of his free hour with his English 6 class in with Liv for the morning, when there’s a tap on his door.

 

“Come in,” he calls.

 

“Hey,” a voice says, and Timothy does a double-take.  

 

There stands Jesus Adams Foster, dog beside him.  Mariana comes in, too.

 

Timothy braces himself, but Francesca isn’t with them.  (Good. He won’t have a reason to report back to his boss that she tried for contact again.)

 

“What can I do for you both?” he asks a little stiffly.

 

“We just wanted to talk to you about something quick.  Then we’ll be out of your hair,” Jesus promises. “Can we?” he asks, hesitating at one of the student desks.

 

“Please,” Timothy invites.

 

“So...we know Fran can’t contact you.  Not until she’s eighteen,” Mariana says.

 

And Timothy braces himself again.  Just when he thought he was in the clear.  “You should know I’ve had to give Lena my word if Francesca tries to see me again, I’ll have to tell her.”

 

“She won’t,” Jesus promises.  “Don’t worry. Fran won’t try to contact you.  That’s not what this is.”

 

“But...she wants to know you...when she can.  So, can she, like, email you, or something?” Mariana asks.

 

“She wants to know me?” Timothy asks, soft.  He’s wanted the same, ever since...well...forever, really.  “That’s it?”

 

“Yeah,” Mariana nods.

 

Jesus does, too.

 

Timothy takes out a scrap of paper, and jots his personal email address down.  “Not a second before she turns eighteen,” he warns.

 

“Thank you,” Mariana breathes, accepting the paper and handing it off to Jesus, who pockets it.

 

As promised, they stand, ready to leave.  “Anyway, we don’t want to keep you,” Jesus says.

 

“Wait.  Will you tell her I said hello?” Timothy asks, clearing his throat.  “That I hope she’s enjoying sixth grade? Truly? I didn’t want to ignore her, I just…  I panicked,” he admits to Mariana.

 

She nods.  “I figured.”

 

“We’ll tell her,” Jesus agrees.

 

And just like that, they’re gone.

 

\--

 

Thursday is flying by in a blur of sessions.  Somehow, it’s already afternoon.  

 

They’ve already attended sessions on Disability and Intersectional Identity, conducted by a Black woman with Cerebral Palsy named Tessa, who talks to them about the unique experience of being a triple-minority.  That having a disability and being a person of color meant that you faced unique challenges that white disabled people did not.  

 

Lena’s of course thinking about Fran, here, mostly.  Tessa talks about pop culture. Television shows. Being a romantic who never sees herself represented in the media.  How the lack of representation contributed to spending most of her life battling self-hatred.  

 

Next, there is Disability and Presuming Competence, led by 13-year-old Dia.   (She communicates in the same way Theo and Corbin had.) Dia shares the pain of being discussed like she’s not even in the room.  The damaging concept of mental age and how assuming she could not understand, when she could, actually caged her.

 

Lena recalls just yesterday, and discussing things with Mariana.  How devastated she’d been at the existence of the website and everything on it.  How often had they discussed Mariana, right in front of her? How often had they assumed she couldn’t understand, when she could?  She was just unable to prove it.

 

Lena’s hand hurts from taking notes, and Stef has promised to take over.  But Lena knows that Stef’s notetaking is nowhere near as thorough as her own.  Still, it’s better than nothing.  

 

“So, what should we do about scheduling time for Fran and Mariana?” Stef asks, over their lettuce wraps.

 

“Well, since she’s not in therapy with Tomas anymore, maybe we sit down with Mari after dinner?  When we would have usually done rehab with her?” Lena suggests. “I mean, assuming her counseling doesn’t fall around the same time.”

 

“Right,” Stef nods.  “I think that would work.  And for Fran...I was thinking maybe the same time we used for Jesus?  7:30? So it’s in the evening. She’s done with her homework, hopefully.  But it’s not time for bed quite yet, and she can have time to talk about whatever she needs to?”

 

“Yeah, that’s good,” Lena agrees.  She’s shocked when Stef takes her copy of their contract out of her pocket and scans it.

 

“So...Fran’s going to see Holly Hitchens today.  You worried about that?” Stef asks.

 

“Of course, but I think if we asked anybody here, they’d probably say it would be more concerning if she didn’t have mental health help...and we really need to find something for Mariana, too.”

 

“I know.  Last time she went to counseling, it did nothing,” Stef remarks.  “I’ve never put much stock in it to be honest.”

 

“But wasn’t that back when we were putting limits on what she was allowed to share?” Lena asks.  “Why would it help if she wasn’t able to talk about what was really on her mind?”

 

“Did we do that with Jesus, too?” Stef asks, cringing.  “God, all these things that I just thought were offhand comments...and they take them so seriously.  Sometimes I forget that I’m their parent,” she admits.

 

“You can make all the offhand comments you want to me,” Lena offers.  “But around the kids, we’re gonna want to be more aware of what comes out of our mouths.  Because they aren’t experiencing us as very supportive.”

 

“Right.  God, I was so uncomfortable in that last session.  Knowing that little girl, Dia? She was totally aware of every single thing her parents, teachers, whoever, said about her, but had no way to tell them.  So she just had to endure them treating her like a baby. Assuming she knew nothing.” Stef goes quiet a moment. “We did that to Mariana, didn’t we?”

 

“I think she’s told us as much,” Lena nods.

 

Stef groans.  “I hate that it’s gotten this bad.  I just want to crawl back in bed. Pull the covers over my head and never come out.  Or just...come out when things are better.”

 

“But things aren’t just going to get better…” Lena points out.  “We make them better. If we don’t try, nothing will change.”

 

“I know that…” Stef sighs.  “It’s just demoralizing. It’s embarrassing.  It’s...when I think of the damage done, I can’t catch my breath…”

 

“So we do better,” Lena insists.  “We have to. In little steps. Mariana at 5:30.  Fran at 7:30. That’s where we start.”

 

“Right,” Stef nods.  “I’m glad when one of us is losing it, the other is relatively calm.”  She leans over to kiss Lena.

 

“Me, too,” Lena agrees.

 

\--

 

Once they’re home, Jesus takes the scrap of paper with Timothy’s email address on it and secures it to the inside cover of one of his own sixth grade notebooks, from years ago.  Tapes it to the inside cover of one.

 

It might seem like a weird place to put something, but for Jesus, who will never part with these notebooks for any reason, it makes perfect sense.  He wants Fran’s contact info for Timothy to be as secure and safe as it can be.

 

He hopes to God he’s doing what’s right here.  That going to Timothy was the right thing. That getting contact information from him was okay.  

 

But really, it’s impossible to know this stuff.  What’s okay. What’s not. Having parents who don’t actually teach you how to do things is hella frustrating.  The amount of stuff he and Mariana and Fran have been expected to just know is staggering.

 

Jesus hopes that taking Fran to Dr. H. today will help.  That having a professional to talk to will help Fran sort out what she’s feeling.  So that, maybe, eventually, she won’t have to feel so depressed all the time.

 

Only two more days and she and Mariana are going to be back there.  At home with Moms. It makes Jesus tense up inside, just the thought of it.  Knowing exactly how bad it can be there, from firsthand experience, it feels ridiculous to even consider sending them home again.

 

But Jesus knows he has no choice.

 

And he prays that this time, it’ll be different.


	192. Terrible Love

Oliver is still not recovered from two days ago when those Adams Foster moms found every last nerve Ollie had and just shredded them.  And now, he has to give a presentation. About himself. About his own experience with being adopted and how becoming (more) disabled played a part in that.

 

Usually, he’s up for it.

 

Talking about it is healing or something.  Olivia is fine giving him space to do it. She clears out when he talks, because he needs her to not be here while he trashes her parents.

 

But right now?  The idea of opening up just makes Ollie feel sick to his stomach.  Knowing there are parents out here who feel like Olivia’s do. It’s not that Ollie’s clueless.  He’s known before. Just not quite so intimately. He hasn’t had to sit across from them. Hear them talk about their kid with a brain injury like she ruined their life, and know that that’s exactly how Olivia’s parents feel.

 

It’s worse, now that he’s met the little one.  Francesca. He hadn’t known she was one of theirs until after.  Olivia broke it to him on their way home last night.

 

_ “Francesca’s the one whose parents you and Rosa had all the trouble with…”  _

 

It had taken a second to catch up with what she’d said.  To piece it together. Francesca. Her parents. Are who he and Rosa had trouble with.   _ All _ the trouble with.

 

_ “They’re treating their other daughter this bad and they won’t even let this one talk about her bio dad?” _ Ollie had ranted, incredulous.

 

_ “I know.  It sucks,” _ Olivia had nodded.

 

But it didn’t just suck.  It seeped inside him. It brought all the buried stuff up to the surface.  Talking about his own experience trying to get info from Olivia’s parents about his own had brought all that back.  Now, with Stef and Lena out in the audience? He just can’t imagine sharing.

 

He can’t really imagine giving a canned speech about this, but he’s never really been good on the fly.  That’s the thing about being disabled (again), you kinda have to pre-plan.  

 

But he can’t with this.  His nerves are still wrecked from two days ago.  And it’s like every single parent out there is like his own.  Ollie forces himself to search out Sylvan and Hope. Two people he knows got it right.  Two people he knows value their kids. Love their kids. Don’t make them erase parts of themselves for their own comfort.

 

From the audience, Sylvan flashes a thumbs up.

 

A minute ticks by.  Then two.

 

“Uh...hey.  So, if I’m gonna do this thing...I don’t want any crap from the audience.  Questions. Whatever. This is not school. I’m not your teacher. I do not owe you answers.  So, I’m about to tell you what you need to know about me. No more. No less.”

 

“My early life was…  Well, it was my life.  People expect me to say it sucked, and in some ways, yeah, it did.  But in others it just...was my life. I liked getting to do what I wanted when I wanted.  Not necessarily having to go to school. I didn’t like being hurt at home. I didn’t want to have to be the one to go, and I didn’t think that was fair.  I just wanted the pain to stop.”

 

“I was in third grade when I was caught hooking school.  I ran with an older crowd. Throwing bricks at buildings.  Whatever. When the cops brought me home, I got beat up pretty bad.  Ended up in the system. I bounced around for about a year until I found the Welters.  Three months into getting me, they found out they were pregnant...with my sister, Olivia.”

 

“Olivia’s not here for this, because I don’t like her hearing this part but...they almost gave me back.  When they found out? They’d been trying for a biological baby the whole entire time. A long time. And they got me.  Then, they got her. But I promised I’d be the best big brother. I’d stop getting in trouble. Stop talking back. Stop cursing.  Whatever. If they just let me stay.”

 

“Mrs. Welter got more and more pregnant, and we had it all set that, you know, I’ll be adopted. The baby will be born.  That’ll be it. But she came early. So they finalized me after. And like...I didn’t wanna take their name? I think that really pissed them off?  But…” he shrugs. “I just...I’ve never been anybody else. By then, I was ten. I knew my biological mom and I wanted to keep knowing her, even with all she did.”

 

“But talking about her was taboo.  And asking to see her was worse. I tried to get info about her when I was a teenager, and it...it went pretty bad.  Olivia’s dad was kinda quietly pissed. Her mom kept crying. But like...my bio mom...she’s my mom. She had me. And they…settled for me.  I was their second choice. Some kid with a whole host of undiagnosed stuff. But I passed. If I worked hard enough, no one could tell. If I kept my temper in check, no one could tell.  If I kept it together. If I didn’t talk about my life before them. If I did everything right, then it was okay.”

 

“But about six years ago, I was traveling and I got...sick.  Really sick. Something was seriously wrong, and it was only after a long time that I figured out...that the sickness?  It messed with my brain. And that...changed everything.” Ollie pauses and clears his throat.

 

“I couldn’t hide anymore.  I couldn’t do what I loved anymore.  I couldn’t be who I was, because I was someone else.  But no one else seemed to realize it,” Another pause.

 

“They deny it, but I feel it…  My adoptive parents...their love...it changed after that.  There was this wall. This major disconnect. I can’t describe it.  But I could feel it. The only person whose love never wavered was Olivia...and maybe that’s because she knew what it was like...to have something about herself that she couldn’t change.”

 

“See, the thing is…  When you adopt a kid with disabilities, or when an extra disability gets added on...that impacts the kid.  We automatically think… ‘ _ Well, I know I’m unloveable because of somebody leaving me...or not taking care of me...or whatever the case may be. _ ’  So if we feel a shift in your love for us, it just reinforces that wound.”

 

“So, now it’s like…  Here’s another thing I can’t help.  But it’s true. And I can’t do anything about it.  I can’t fix it. And they only love me if I can fake it.  And I can’t anymore, so… I don’t know. It’s just hard. It’s like…  They wouldn’t have picked me to begin with if they could’ve just had my sister.  And add to that this new diagnosis for me, and it’s like… They never would have picked me.  It all goes together.”

 

“Be aware of the ways that disability impacts adoption and vice versa.  And be aware that us wanting to find our birth parents has nothing at all to do with you.  It’s in us. Chances are, that most of you who’ve adopted, already know your own bio parents.  You take for granted knowing who you are and where you come from. Seeing that person you get your chin from, or your grace or your crooked teeth.  You see yourself. Every single day. And those of us who are adopted, that’s all we want. To see where in the hell we fit.”

 

“To punish us for that...it just adds to our shame.  And we have enough of it. There aren’t any questions for afterward either.  But just think about it? Think about how you already have something your kids might never have.  Something they crave.” Ollie nods to himself. “Alright. I’m done.”

 

\--

 

The first thing Ollie does is to case all the break rooms for Olivia.

 

Rosa finds him first, though, just looking at him for a long time.

 

“You know you have family here, don’t you?” she asks seriously.  

 

“I guess, yeah,” Ollie admits, looking away from her.  It’s so damn hard facing her kindness after being so vulnerable.

 

“And you get that we’re not settling for you?” Rosa presses gently.

 

“I mean...not really...but that’s my thing.  Not your fault,” he admits.

 

“Hey.  Are you done?  You wanna go?” Olivia asks, coming out of the break room Ollie’s lurking outside of.

 

“Yeah.  Let’s go,” Ollie agrees.  “Thanks for not, you know, crashing my talk.”

 

“I’d never wanna crash your talk,” Olivia reassures.  “Only if you wanted me to hear. That’s...not exactly the definition of  _ crashing _ , but you know what I mean.”

 

“Do you know, the best thing about being in this family is having you for a sister?” Ollie asks, squinting as they step out into the bright sunlight.

 

“So you always tell me,” Olivia smiles.

 

“Good, so you know it’s true, then.” Ollie grins, unlocking the car.

 

“So, you don’t secretly resent the fact that they gave us matching names?” Olivia teases lightly.

 

“No.  Makes me feel like...meant to be...even with everything.” Ollie muses.

 

“Meant to be what?” Olivia asks.

 

“Your brother,” Ollie says simply, as they get in the car and head for home.

 

\--

 

Stef still can’t quite take in the fact that she and Lena were basically called out at the very start of Oliver’s session, with the no questions business.

 

“ _ Oh, that was so for us… _ ” Lena had whispered and Stef had nodded.

 

Now, though, looking around?  Stef can’t see Oliver or Olivia anywhere.  She wonders if they high-tailed it out of here?  If they’ll see Olivia tomorrow or not.

 

“That was heavy,” Lena breathes.  “And sort of hard to follow, but I got the idea.  And I had no idea that disability and adoption impacted each other that way.  That it might be making the kids feel even less loveable.”

 

“I know,” Stef nods.  “I kept thinking about Mariana.  Oliver’s story and hers are so similar.  I guess it’s a good thing that we let her have contact with Ana then.”

 

“They were still grounded for sneaking off to prison with her to see Gabe, though…” Lena remembers.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Stef nods.  “But...that was how desperate they were for information, Lena.  They were willing to take that risk, knowing that if we found out, we’d ground them indefinitely.  And we did - at least Mariana - Jesus got a long talk.”

 

“Yeah, he was still so sensitive to losing anything then…” Lena comments.

 

“Right.  I’m just saying....  I know it’s a sensitive subject, but I look at B...and his relationship with Mike...and is it complicated for me?  For us? Yes. But the bottom line is, Brandon needs his dad. And I know it’s different with Fran and Timothy. I know that.  But I think the least we could do is tell her what we know. So she’s not thinking there’s anything there that she needs to be ashamed of.”

 

Lena sighs.  “I know she said that finding out about Timothy wouldn’t mean we’d lose her, but I can’t stop thinking about my relationship with my dad.  I love him...so much. That I can’t imagine if I didn’t know him. If someone kept him from me? If my mother kept him from me? I don’t think I could forgive her for that.  I think I’d run as hard and fast as I could for him and never look back.”

 

“But Fran’s not you,” Stef reminds.  “And Timothy’s not your dad.”

 

“True,” Lena admits after a pause.  “It’s just so hard being in a place where all we hear are all the ways parents like us mess up our kids because we’re out of touch culturally…”

 

“And steeped in ableism apparently,” Stef adds dryly.

 

“Right.” Lena nods.  

 

“But we’re here.  We’ve almost survived five whole days.  And I think we’re learning. Slowly. That’s something,” Stef offers.

 

“That’s definitely something,” Lena echoes.


	193. The Cure

Lena settles in for the final session on Thursday, feeling exhausted.  Yesterday really took it out of her. She’ll be glad to be home two hours sooner tonight.  

 

She squints as a woman in a sparkling sky blue wheelchair comes to the front.  Listens as she introduces herself as Machelle, who will be talking to them about Disability and something called “cure culture”.

 

Machelle is the third person that Lena has seen here that has CP.  (Olivia and Tessa are the other two.) She’s never really given much thought to the fact that Fran will one day be an adult with CP, just like these ladies.  But now, Lena can’t stop thinking about it.

 

Stef is still on note-taking duty, so Lena can sit back and just listen as Machelle really gets going:

 

“When an abled person gets hurt, they go to the doctor, maybe do some rehab with the goal of ‘getting better.’  They do everything they’re told. They have support, oftentimes, ample support because their injuries are rare and short-lived.  But they get better. They always get better. That’s how it goes, right? Abled people? Who’s been injured and been through rehab?”

 

Hands raise hesitantly around the room.

 

“I mean...you can correct me if I’m wrong,” Machelle insists.

 

“No, that’s pretty much how it goes,” a parent from the audience agrees.

 

“Okay.  So now let’s talk about the medical establishment.  They’re kind of built on what’s called the medical model of disability.  Which is a fancy way of saying that disabilities have to be cured. And if they can’t be cured, that’s sad.  Sometimes, there are kids like I was. Born disabled. But still, somehow caught up in this idea that if I tried hard enough, I could get better.  Except for me, getting better would equal becoming nondisabled.”

 

“Growing up, I had surgeries.  A lot of them. Guess how many I consented to?  Zero. Because I had them all before I was twelve.  When I finally was asked if I wanted to undergo one more procedure at twelve, to correct a mistake made during my last major surgery?  I said no.”

 

“Now, let’s talk about that major surgery.  I went into it not really knowing much about it.  Just, okay, I have to have another surgery. I think it was sort of mentioned that it would be bigger.  But I remember waking up afterward and trying to count the incisions...and losing track. Again and again.  I remember having one where nothing was previously wrong and being mad as hell about it.”

 

“The recovery was brutal.  I blocked a lot of it out. But while I was recovering, I got cards from kids at school that said,  _ I can’t wait for you to be able to walk like everyone else _ .  And I had no idea where they got that from.  Even at ten, I knew...CP isn’t curable. I’m not going to be able to walk like everyone else.  The surgery just happened because surgeries were an accepted part of my life. And then there was rehab.  Where therapists made fun of my CP gait, in an effort to draw my attention to how I walked and how ‘wrong’ it was.”

 

“I had zero emotional support.  It was, go here and do this. And as soon as I legitimately could do exercises on my own, they were mine to do.  I was ten. I was still pulled out of class at school to do more PT. Still encouraged toward weirdly unattainable goals like walking with one crutch.  I thought, if I worked hard enough, I could walk with one, then I wouldn’t need any, and that would be that.”

 

“No one ever corrected me.  So when I was thirteen and still trying to master walking with one crutch...and not being able to do it...I felt like I failed.  That same year, my parents were like, ‘ _ You should start using a wheelchair at school _ ,’ and I was horrified.  I was so depressed and I didn’t want to stick out anymore than I already did.”

 

“I’m leaving out a big part of the story.  I’m leaving out how I was physically assaulted for not being able to do what it wasn’t possible for me to do.  And that...destroyed me, honestly. You’re never ready to be brutalized in that way. Certainly not by family. But you guys know the statistics.”

 

“I wanna ask them the same question I’m about to ask you: Is it worth it?  Is it worth it to force your child to try to reach some unattainable level of ‘normalcy’?  Just so we can pass as abled for your comfort? What about ours? What about us? What about the damage it leaves kids with knowing their parent would rather verbally and emotionally abuse them while making them walk laps with one crutch and something in their free hand?  Knowing their parent would rather  _ jerk them to their feet by the hair _ when they fall than accept that maybe they should stop trying to fix what wasn’t broken in the first place.”

 

Lena wipes tears from her eyes, but more keep falling.

 

“Disability can be a lot of things, but just because we’re disabled, doesn’t mean we’re broken, or worthless, or defective.  We have adaptive skills ableds can only dream of. That’s what needs to be nurtured and grown and encouraged within us as kids.  Because pushing us to pass as abled only helps us hate ourselves. Help us embrace the identity we have. The culture we have. The pride we have,” Machelle insists, her eyes shining.

 

“Sometimes, surgery is necessary.  I’m not anti medical intervention when it’s called for.  But right now? Therapies are not designed for us, they’re designed for you...who if you work hard enough...you can improve.  And maybe there’s room for us to do the same. But it will look different. Maybe like being able to move without pain. Or with less pain.  Maybe like finding ways we can successfully perform certain tasks. But pushing us to become what we are not isn’t going to help us. It will damage us.  If your child is telling you they hate therapy, listen. Surround them with people in their own community and yourself. Listen to what they say about what they actually need.  Thank you.”

 

\--

 

Lena can’t stop crying.  Again. This is going to be a real problem if she can’t get it together.  She has never thought about the harm in therapy and surgery being that implicit.  

 

The way Machelle described it...it just illuminated Mariana’s own words from yesterday tenfold.  

 

“You wanna go outside?” Stef asks.

 

“I can’t…” Lena sobs.

 

“Oh.  Okay,” Stef sits back down.  “That’s okay.”

 

“Looks like somebody needs to process…” Pablo says gently, pulling up a chair to join them.  “What’s on your mind, Lena?”

 

“I can’t…” she manages again.  “Stef, you talk.”

 

“Okay…” Stef hesitates.  “Well… It sounds like Mariana’s been telling us exactly what Machelle was mentioning.  And what we heard from Rosa earlier.”

 

“Did I hear my name?” Rosa asks, joining them too.

 

The crowd in the room has thinned, as most of the parents prefer to get out of there as soon as possible.  But Lena can’t move. So they’re stuck here, for the foreseeable future.

 

“You were mentioning the same thing that Machelle did, and what Mariana was saying...about therapy,” Stef remembers.

 

Rosa nods.  

 

“Looks like that touched a nerve,” Pablo observes softly.

 

“We’re breaking them,” Lena sobs.

 

“Lena.  Look at me,” Rosa says, in her no-nonsense tone so Lena has to obey.  “You have made mistakes, yes. Big ones. But right here, right now? You are not  _ breaking them _ .  You’re  _ fixing you _ .  The way you see your kids and their disabilities.  And that’s a wonderful thing.”

 

“It is?” she sniffs.  

 

Stef hands her a Kleenex.

 

“It really is…” Rosa nods.

 

“So...what else are you learning?” Pablo asks.

 

Stef checks their notes.  “That intersectional identity is a thing that, I, especially, need to pay more attention to.”

 

“That we need to assume Mariana can understand, not that she doesn’t,” Lena adds, remembering Dia’s session.  One sentence about how her mother belittled her sat in Lena’s gut like a stone. Undigested and heavy. “And that being adopted is yet another facet of intersectional identity.  And being disabled  _ and _ adopted  _ and _ a person of color  _ and _ female?  All these things impact each other and form the overall experience for our two kids still at home…”

 

“That we need to help Mari and Fran...and Jesus...love who they are.  Not become us…” Stef ventures.

 

Pablo wipes tears from his own eyes.  “ _ Yes _ ,” he says.  “Please. Do that.”

 

“But how?” Stef asks.  “They hate it when we email.  It’s obviously not working. We made no progress.  They don’t believe us, and they shouldn’t. We haven’t given them one damn reason to.”

 

“But don’t you see?” Pablo insists.  “Now is exactly the time. Tell them what you’re learning because you want to share it.  Not because it was an assignment. Something you had to do.”

 

“Share with them because you can.  Because it matters.  _ They matter _ ,” Rosa adds.

 

“Okay…” Lena breathes and she opens an email.  “Here goes nothing…”

 

\--

 

_ Dear Jesus, Mariana and Francesca, _

 

_ Today, we learned so much and we wanted to share it with you.   _

 

_ First, Fran, we got to hear Oliver talk about Disability and Adoption today.  It really opened our eyes and we are sorry that we’ve made you feel ashamed for being curious about your background.  Your biological father is named Timothy Hasani, but we know you’ve figured that out by now. He is a teacher, and has been a coworker of Mama’s for a long time.  He is a good person. We are very thankful to him for helping bring us you. We hope you have a good first session with Dr. H. today. Know you are free to talk about whatever you need to.  It’s your session and we support you. _

 

_ Secondly, Mariana, we’ve just been to a session about Disability and Cure Culture and we are gutted.  We are so sorry we ever made you feel like you have to work toward an unattainable goal to be accepted and / or loved by us.  We love you. Then and now. We will help you figure out what works for you and listen more about what you need. Absolutely no more Tomas therapy.  And if you ever need to talk to us about anything, we are here. Write / text / message. We want to know how you’re feeling. What you’re thinking. If you need us. _

 

_ To all of you (including you, Jesus,) Our love for you does not waver.  It is always there. Having disabilities does not make us love you any less.  We love you all more than you could ever know (but we will start letting you know - Mom.)  We will remember that we are raising adults, and more than that, human beings, and that you all have the right to grow into exactly the people that YOU are meant to be - not who we have tried to make you. _

 

_ We love you.  We will do better.  We loved seeing you yesterday. _

 

_ P.S. Mariana, we are nixing flashcards in favor of check in time with you at 5:30 PM daily (assuming your counseling does not fall then, and assuming it works for you.)  This way if you have anything you need to talk to us about, you have space to do it. Let us know if this works for you. _

 

_ P.S.S. Francesca, we would love to check in with you at 7:30 PM each night, just to see how you’re doing and if you need anything.  Sound good? _

 

_ P.S.S.S. Jesus, what do you think about a 9:30 PM phone call / text?  We’d love to just check in and hear about what’s going on in your life and be there if you need anything from us.  Let us know what you think. _

 

_ You three matter so much to us.  We hope that starts becoming clearer. _

 

_ Love,  _

_ Moms _


	194. Barbies

Fran knows that Jesus likes Dr. H. but she’s not so sure that she’s going to.  She’s been having dreams about it and Dr. H. always turns into the mean guidance counselor from school who makes Francesca feel embarrassed about everything in life.

 

The only good part about today was the text that Fran got in the middle of choir from Mariana.  It said:

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Timothy says hello.  He says he really hopes you’re enjoying sixth grade and that he’s very sorry he ignored you.  He knows you want to contact him at 18 and made it possible for you to do that. (So happy for you.  Love you. Have a good day.) _

 

But right about now, Fran has all the butterflies from a whole butterfly sanctuary flying around inside her stomach.  Jesus is driving and he’s being super quiet.

 

“Do we still have to go?” Fran asks in a tiny voice.

 

“Fran,” he says, glancing at her in the rearview mirror.  “I would never force you. I remember what this is like. How scary it is.  But it  _ is _ safe.  And I think it’s a really good idea.  If you want me there, I promise, I’ll stay the whole entire time.”

 

“Dudley, too?” Fran asks.

 

“Yeah, of course, Dudley, too.  We’re a team,” Jesus says, reaching over to pet Dudley behind the ears.

 

“I know you like her...but I don’t know her at all.  And besides...what would we even talk about?” Fran insists.

 

“Well…  Moms emailed us again, just a bit ago.  I printed it out and I have it with me. I thought if you wanted to talk about it there, maybe, you could.”

 

“With a stranger,” Fran points out, unimpressed.

 

“Buddy, I know.  It sounds totally messed up, what I’m suggesting.  I know. Trust this random person you barely remember meeting?  But Dr. H? She is a safe adult. She was safe for me even when Moms weren’t.”

 

“That’s what I’m worried about, I think…” Fran ventures.

 

“What’s that?” Jesus asks.

 

“That she’ll be on their side.  Report everything back to them. Like the aide I had at school when I was little…” Francesca admits.

 

“The only thing she has to tell them is if you tell her you feel like hurting someone else...or if you feel like hurting yourself.” Jesus finishes.

 

Fran slumps in her seat.  “I knew it.”

 

“I know, buddy.  It’s hard when they know that stuff.  Especially when they’ve given you a hard time for it.  But for now? We’re just gonna go, see her office, meet her, say hey.” Jesus says.

 

“Does she still have toys?” Fran wonders.  “I remember toys.”

 

“It’s been a while since I’ve been there, but I’m positive she still has them,” Jesus nods.

 

They pull in and Jesus finds a parking spot.  Fran feels more nervous than ever. Mostly because she can hear Moms’ words in her head, cautioning her against talking about any of the bad stuff from home.  Like they always used to. After the one time Stef hit Mariana. Or when Stef was really mean to Mari during a game and then Mariana got too overwhelmed and even ripped Fran’s homework.

 

She tried to tape it back together after, but Fran was still embarrassed to hand it in.

 

“I don’t wanna go…” Fran whimpers.  

 

But her body has other ideas.  Mostly because her nervousness makes Fran have to pee, as usual.  And the closest bathroom is probably inside the building where Dr. H’s office is.  She moves around, but tries not to make it obvious she’s holding it. (It was a long day at school, though, and usually, she goes first thing when she gets home.)

 

“There’s a bathroom inside,” Jesus offers.

 

“That’s a mean trick…” Fran protests, but she’s getting out of the car anyway.

 

“It’s not a trick.  If you’re not ready yet, I won’t force you.  But I know it’s probably been a while since you’ve gotten to go…” Jesus points out.

 

They walk inside and Jesus is super fast telling the receptionist Fran’s name and who she has an appointment with and what time.

 

Then, he brings her straight to the bathroom.

 

It disappoints Fran a little that it’s just a regular accessible bathroom and not the best ones she saw yesterday at Family Day.  Jesus stands guard outside the door while Fran pees (just in time.)  

 

It does help a little.

 

Fran checks her phone again.

 

**_Olivia:_ **

_ Hi, Francesca.  I am home with Oliver this afternoon.  I will go back for the last day of the workshop tomorrow.  How are you? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ So nervous for a thing I have! _

 

**_Olivia:_ **

_ Ooh.  New thing? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Brand spanking new thing. _

 

**_Olivia:_ **

_ Those can be hard!  I know! But who is with you? _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ Jesus, my brother. _

 

**_Olivia:_ **

_ Jesus being there is a good sign!  He would not bring you somewhere unsafe.  If you can’t trust the new thing, trust your brother. _

 

**_Francesca:_ **

_ I know and I do.  Just [afraid emoji] _

 

**_Olivia:_ **

_ Idea: Text your people.  Your friends, whoever they are, who know your deep stuff.  Then they’ll know you need them now (or will in a little while.) _

 

So Fran quickly switches screens from texting to Marco Polo.  She sends a video, talking quietly, to all the Avoiders, including Michael and Jaimie:

 

“Hi guys, I am super nervous to go talk to Dr. H.  Please send me cute animal pictures or Disney gifs or a song, Levi.  I really need positive words right now.”

 

Right away, Pearl’s face pops up on the screen:

 

“ _ You are so brave.  Also, I’ve met Dr. H. before, myself.  She’s really nice. _ ”

 

Fran’s about to send a response when there’s a tap on the door.

 

“Buddy?  You good?” Jesus asks.

 

“Yeah,” Fran says.  She hurries to wash her hands, dry them and come out.  “Just getting backup.”

 

“Good thinking,” Jesus says, giving her a high five.  “Awesome coping.”

 

“Guess what?” Fran asks.  “Olivia from yesterday? She texted me!  It’s not even Monday!”

 

“Wow,” Jesus smiles.  “Sounds like that came through at the right time.”

 

Fran nods.

 

Then a door Fran didn’t ever notice opens and a woman steps out.  She looks happy, not strict, and she looks right at Francesca when she speaks.

 

“Hi, Francesca.  I’m Dr. Hitchens.  Whenever you’re ready, you can come in.”  She just says that much and then goes back in the office leaving the door open.

 

Fran peers inside.

 

It looks nice, just like a room in somebody’s house.  Carpet. Ginormous squishy leather chairs. One big desk.  And little baskets of toys and stuff all around. Fran steps closer.  Then stops and turns around. Extends a hand to Jesus.

 

“Will you come, too?” she whispers.

 

“I definitely will,” Jesus says, taking her hand.  He even kisses her gently on the head, too. “I’ll stay the whole time.  You remember your safe word?”

 

“Yeah,” Fran whispers back.

 

“Cool.  Me, too,” Jesus answers.  He walks right next to Fran, letting her say how fast.

 

(Her choice is sloth-speed, but Jesus is very good at sloth-speed, too.)

 

“Welcome,” Dr. Hitchens says.  She’s not behind her desk. She’s standing like them.  “Hi, Jesus. It’s nice to see you again.”

 

“Hey,” he says.  

 

“Feel free to sit anywhere you’d like…” Dr. H. invites, but Fran hesitates, because Jesus is distracted.

 

Fran’s thinking about how Dr. H. probably didn’t actually mean anywhere for real, because most adults with offices don’t like kids behind their desks.  Actually, Fran would love to sit under the desk. But that’s probably not okay either.

 

Jesus points to the wall behind Dr. H.  “See the tree drawing right...there?” he manages to just touch it with his fingers, stretching high.    

 

“Yeah,” Fran agrees.

 

“I made that,” Jesus says, a little proud.

 

“You did?” Fran asks, impressed.  “It’s in a frame. Like that picture you drew of me is at home!  Jesus, your art is  _ real art _ !”

 

“I’m intrigued by what you’re saying about real art,” Dr. H. says. “What do you mean when you say that?”

 

“Oh…” Fran hesitates.  Grownups aren’t usually intrigued about anything she says, unless they’re Avoiders.  Regular grownups don’t usually listen to her at all. “Like, if somebody hangs it up on their wall, in a frame, like that.  Somebody important.”

 

“Ah.  So, you’re saying, if somebody cares about a piece of art they receive and frames it, and displays it.  That makes it real art?” Dr. H. clarifies.

 

“Somebody important,” Francesca adds sitting in one of the squishy chairs.  Jesus does, too. Dr. H. is on the couch.

 

“I see,” Dr. H. nods.  “What makes somebody important?”

 

Fran gestures.  “Well, you. You have a desk and an office.”

 

“Can I ask you something, Francesca?” Dr. H. wonders.

 

Fran shrugs.  Looks to Jesus.  Then nods.

 

“Do you think you’re important?” Dr. H. asks, and Fran is so confused.

 

“Is this, like, a test?” Fran asks Jesus.  “If I get the wrong answer, do I fail?”

 

“Nah.  It’s not like school, buddy.  Just a conversation. You can talk to Dr. H. the way you talk to me or Mariana, or our friends.”

 

“Then I guess...sometimes…” Fran ventures.

 

“Sometimes you think you’re important?” Dr. H. asks.

 

Fran nods.

 

“Who are you with when you feel important?” Dr. H. wonders.

 

Fran jerks a thumb toward Jesus.  “And also, the other Avoiders. And Olivia.”

 

“Jesus, and the other Avoiders and Olivia,” Dr. H. repeats, nodding.  (It’s sort of annoying, but sort of nice that she’s keeping up.)

 

“So...yeah…” Fran says.

 

“Are there times when you don’t feel important?” Dr. H. presses gently.

 

Fran looks around until her gaze settles on the tree Jesus drew.

 

“If you’re ever not comfortable answering something in here.  It’s your right to say, ‘Not comfortable,’” Dr. H. says.

 

“Not comfortable,” Fran agrees.

 

“How about if I talk for a moment?” Dr. H. asks.

 

“Okay,” Fran says, still staring at the tree.

 

“Francesca?  Do you want to pick something to do while I talk?” Dr. H. asks.

 

Fran blinks and focuses on all the little collections of toys.  Right next to her are six different colored stretchy strings. Fran gets them and starts wrapping them around Righty.  He doesn’t like it, so she tries Lefty instead and it feels like a lot less stress.

 

She can listen now.  Not have to blank out thinking about how Moms make her feel super unimportant.

 

“My job is to help kids who have had scary things happen to them.  My job is to support them by listening, figuring out what they need, and helping them get that.  Some kids just need a safe place to talk, and that’s one hundred percent okay.”

 

“We’re not supposed to…” Fran ventures.

 

“You’re not supposed to...talk?” Dr. H. asks.

 

“Jesus, you tell her.  Please. If you want,” Fran says, still wrapping her hand in all the bright stretchy strings.

 

“Yeah, things have been pretty difficult for Francesca, especially lately.  She and Mariana are the only two living at home...and Moms have been...pretty terrible to them.  They also have made sure to tell Fran she’s not allowed to tell anyone what’s been going on. They’re getting help now, but it’s all pretty new for Fran.  Hard for her to trust that any of it is for real, when they’ve been acting this other way for so long.”

 

“How long would you say they’ve been acting this other way?” Dr. H. asks.

 

“It’s not another way,” Fran butts in.  “It’s their usual way. But it’s been worse since fourth grade…”

 

“I see.  What happened then?” Dr. H. asks.

 

Fran looks to Jesus.  “That might be private for real,” she says.

 

“Dr. H. knows, buddy,” Jesus reassures Fran.  “Mariana’s car accident was a year and a half ago.  Moms...haven’t dealt well with it. At all.”

 

“So, you might have some feelings related to the last year and a half that you need to talk about,” Dr. H. says.  “That’s okay. It’s okay to talk in here. About whatever’s on your mind.”

 

“Well...I don’t really wanna talk.  ‘Cause, no offense, but I don’t even know you,” Fran says.

 

Dr. H. laughs.  “That’s very true.  Do you have any questions for me?”

 

“Um…  Have you ever talked to any other kids with CP?” Fran asks.

 

“Buddy, I think that qualifies as private information.  Nothing to be ashamed of, but kinda like you experienced with that article last year?  Any kids Dr. H. might’ve talked to? Maybe they’re not ready to have her tell other kids about their diagnosis.”

 

“Oh,” Fran slumps.  “Maybe they’d rather do it themselves.”

 

“Right,” Dr. H. nods.  “Part of my job is keeping private information private.  But I can tell you I’ve spoken to a lot of children in my career.  And some of them have had disabilities.”

 

“Could you help them even though they were different from you?” Fran asks honestly.

 

“She helped me.  And I was very different from her,” Jesus allows.  

 

“That’s true,” Fran nods.  “It’s just...Moms are at this thing right now...and they keep emailing us...and they emailed again.  And I still don’t know what it says. Jesus said we could read it here.”

 

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Dr. H. nods.


	195. Don't Play Games

Mariana’s more than glad for the downtime she has when Jesus leaves to take Fran to counseling for the first time.  Still revels in being able to be completely alone and do what she wants and needs, rather than having her every move scrutinized and monitored.  

 

Damn, she’s going to miss it here.

 

In just a couple of days, she and Fran are going back.  Back to Moms’. And does she hope it will be different? Hell, yeah.  But does Mariana actually believe it will be? Can be? Well, the jury’s still out.  Her gut says no. But that would mean awful things for her and Fran, so Mari’s got to pull some hope from somewhere.

 

This email, though…  It’s just making her dread every single thing.

 

She likes some good uninterrupted online time, so she can do whatever she has to do there, without added noise to contend with.  So, maybe it was naive or whatever, but Mari hadn’t exactly been expecting it when she saw the latest email from Moms in her inbox, via NAU.

 

They went to a session on trying to cure disabled people and actually listened.  Are maybe actually realizing the harm it’s done to keep Mariana in therapy for a year and a half to regain abilities she’s never going to have.  

 

And instead of having flashcards after dinner - hell on earth - Moms have decided that they want to check in with her...every single day...at that time.

 

The thought of it overwhelms her.

 

She video calls Levi:

 

“Hey, I’m gonna send you some screenshots,” she tells him.

 

“Okay…  Also, hi…” he smiles.  Panther shoves her giant head into the frame.  Levi turns. Gives the dog a kiss. “I wasn’t talking to you, was I?” he tells Panther gently.  “But that’s very sweet.”

 

“Do you want them?” Mariana asks, thinking better of just dropping random Mom-email screenshots on Levi without consent.

 

“What are they?” Levi asks.  “Screenshots of what?”

 

“Moms emailed…” Mariana confesses.  “I...don’t know what to do with it. But it’s easier, communication-wise, if you just know what they said.  I just...if you’re not in the place for it…”

 

“Is it awful?” he cringes, opening one eye to check.

 

“Just...whatever…  Weird, and too-nice…  And I’m pissed… I don’t know what to say back…”

 

“Yeah, send it,” Levi nods.

 

Mariana carefully zooms so the screen shots only show the paragraphs relevant to her.  The one about cures. The one about how their love doesn’t waver for any of them. And the 5:30 check in time.

 

She’s quiet as Levi puts his glasses on.  (Did she know he wore glasses? She can’t remember ever seeing him with them…)  Takes his time reading.

 

“Wow...yeah...this…  It doesn’t sound like them  _ at all _ …” he agrees.  “I mean, based on what I know of them…”

 

“Right?” Mariana asks.

 

“So, what are you gonna do?” he wonders.

 

“I wanna write them back.  I have time right now. Jesus is out with Fran...I just…  I have no idea how…”

 

“Like, what do you say to that, yeah…” Levi agrees.

 

“I mean...I know we definitely have different parents and whatever.  I know yours are...amazing...and I’m glad. And I’m not trying to badmouth your dad,” Mariana tries.

 

“It’s okay.  I’m listening,” Levi nods.

 

Tears unexpectedly come to Mariana’s eyes.  “I wish you were here. Like, with me...right now…”

 

“Me, too…” Levi agrees, sympathetic.  “We got really good at reading stuff from your Moms together, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Mariana laughs a little, in spite of the awful situation.

 

“So...you were saying?  Something about Dad?” Levi prompts.

 

“Oh.  Yeah. Just...I know he...he made some major mistakes...even as great as he was…”

 

“You could say that, yeah,” Levi says, grim now.

 

“So...I guess...what would you do…  If he came to you...apologizing?” Mariana asks.

 

“It’s not about what I would do, Mari.  It’s what do you feel?” Levi insists. “I can’t tell you what to do here.  I can only support you in what _ you  _ wanna do.”

 

“I know...just...I feel...caught.  Like...I don’t have a choice. I have to get along with them.  Go along, I mean. Whatever. Even though I’m pissed,” Mariana admits.  

 

“I hate that feeling,” Levi agrees.  “You can share more. If you want. I know I haven’t checked in on your heart lately.  How is it?”

 

“It...I don’t know…”  Mariana sighs. “Levi, they…  They needed a stranger to tell them to stop making me go to therapy.  That we’re still worthy or whatever of _ being loved _ even though we’re disabled!  They never listened. Never believed us.”

 

“Never believed  _ you _ ,” Levi adds, quiet.

 

“And they’re just, like,  _ deciding _ that I’m gonna sit down with them every single night?  No,” Mariana says.

 

“Yeah, they didn’t give you a choice.  Just told you to let them know if it works for you,” Levi agrees.

 

“I think it’s different…” Levi begins, hesitantly.  “With my dad...and your moms…because if my dad somehow came to me and was like, ‘ _ I just found out what happened to you and I am so sorry _ ,’ I’d forgive him in a second.  Because I know he just...didn’t know.  And I also have no doubt that he loved me.”

 

“Where...I have no proof...that they love  _ me _ .  Where I tried to tell them...and they didn’t listen.  Ever,” Mariana says.

 

“I’m not saying you should forgive them.  That’s up to you. I know I’d have a really hard time doing the same…  I know it’s not the same thing, but I can’t forgive Carla for what she did to me.”

 

“But you don’t have to live with her.  I have to live with them…” Mariana maintains.  “So, I feel like...I’m being forced to do this.  Whatever. When I don’t want to. When I’m not ready.”

 

“That makes sense,” Levi nods.

 

“Also…” Mariana hedges.

 

“Also?” Levi echoes.

 

“This is one of the last days they’ll be able to get feedback.  You know, from people they’ll actually listen to? So...I don’t know...I feel like I should write them back.  Say something. So that they can actually take it in. But it’s a lot of pressure,” Mariana shares.

 

“I can help,” Levi offers.  

 

“Okay...I can switch over to Messenger or something.  So I can draft,” Mariana says. “If that’s okay?”

 

“It’s okay,” Levi nods.  “Love seeing you, though.”

 

“I know.  Crap. I mean…  I mean… You, too,” Mariana manages, her cheeks growing warm.

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Okay.  So far I have, ‘Moms,’ _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Good.  Solid opening.  Direct. What else do you want to tell them?  Anything about what you are feeling / thinking? _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Betrayed they need to hear from someone else how therapy is harmful.  That they could never believe me. Okay, I’m gonna write something. _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ Okay. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Wait.  Do you think it’s too much?  Will they be mad? _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ If they are, they’re somewhere they can be reminded about what’s really important.  They’re not around you or Fran or Jesus. I’d...maybe not tell them as much truth as possible now?  But some. So they can start to take it in. _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Good.  Okay. Hold on.  I wanna say something about the love paragraph… _

_ Okay… _

 

**_Levi:_ **

_ And them deciding on 5:30 every freaking day for you to talk to them… _

 

**_Mariana:_ **

_ Oh, trust me.  I’m getting to that…  Okay. Screen shot coming your way: _

 

_ Moms, _

 

_ You want to know how I feel and what I think?  I feel betrayed as hell that you need to hear that curing disabled people is bad from strangers in order to believe it.  How about believing us. Your own kids. And I think...it hurts like hell that you just now realized that you love us / need to actually TELL us in order for us to know it. _

 

_ I think 5:30 sucks.  You didn’t ask me about it.  You just told me it was happening (with a sort-of-question after the fact.)  You asked Fran. You asked Jesus. (You’d love to check in with them, but you just...will...with me?)  Maybe think about why you asked what everybody else wanted except me. Why you love the idea of talking to them, but are obligated when it’s me... _

 

_ Mariana _

 

\--

 

Mariana’s a little startled when video chat starts ringing with a picture of Levi right there.  She answers, cringing.

 

“Do you hate it?” she asks.  “It’s too much, right?”

 

“Mariana, no.  It’s not. I think they need to know your honest thoughts.  And all the better if Rosa’s still there. She is, right?” he checks.

 

“She is, yeah,” Mariana nods.

 

“Good.  You need her.  She gets you in a way even Jesus and I...even the other Avoiders...don’t.  We can’t. Like, as much as we might want to. But Rosa...she’ll help. She’ll make sure your moms listen.  And take everything in that they’re supposed to.”

 

“You think?” Mariana asks.  “Because...I don’t know. I love Fran and Jesus, but I just can’t do a one-big-happy-sib-group email right now.”

 

“I can see why.  Jesus told Pearl and I a little bit about Family Day...I gather from this email it wasn’t great for you either?”

 

Mariana shakes her head.

 

“No.  They were all over me for swearing at them, when it’s like...hello...aphasia here.  I need to use the words available to me, or else...there’s gonna be no words…”

 

“Right.  Did Rosa set them on the righteous path?” Levi asks.

 

“You know she did…  But it’s just… Levi, this whole thing is…” Mariana sighs again.

 

“What?” he asks, concerned and as always, attuned to her feelings.

 

“They still…  I mean...they don’t know.  They’re getting me counseling, they said.  Rosa knows I requested it. Jesus made a contract thing and it’s in there.  But they…” Mariana trails off.

 

“They don’t know why…” Levi fills in, sad.

 

“And I don’t know if I can ever tell them.  I feel like...they’d find some way to blame me for that part, too,” Mariana admits, hopeless.

 

“It’s your right to tell or not.  And to tell who you choose. If you only wanna tell your counselor?  Then that’s what you should do. You don’t owe them this. And I do understand not wanting them to know…  Some people, just…” Levi shakes his head, but doesn’t elaborate.

 

“I guess I’m glad at least that…  No, never mind. I’m not gonna talk about that,” Mariana amends.  “I was almost gonna share stuff that has to do with Fran, but she can, if she wants.”

 

“True,” Levi comments.  

 

It feels strange not to be able to tell Levi how relieved she is that Moms seem okay, finally, with all the Timothy stuff.  It was just a few days ago that Mari was terrified to go home, in part, because of Moms being pissed that Mari gave Fran the information about Timothy in the first place.

 

“Are you doing okay?” Mariana asks, because she really wants to know, and because she’s not ready to let him go yet.

 

Levi shrugs.  “I don’t know.  In exactly one month, it’ll be two years since Dad...and I…  I’m just… I don’t know. I have to start this new job, and…” he swallows.

 

“What do you need?  For your Dad-anniversary?” Mariana asks.

 

He stares into the camera, right at Mariana.  It’s like he’s here, except it’s so obvious he’s not.  She feels his absence like an ache. (What must he feel like?  With the even bigger loss of his dad, always there?)

 

“Just...don’t forget me?” Levi almost begs.

 

“Never,” Mariana promises.  “I can call. Or text. Whatever you need.”

 

“Can I let you know as it gets closer?  I’m just...not sure how I’m gonna do…” he admits.

 

“Of course,” Mariana nods.  “So, I guess I’ll send this…” she says, thinking of the email.  “Thanks for all your help.”

 

“Yeah.  Anytime,” Levi nods.

 

“Levi?” Mariana asks, hesitant.  “I really miss you. Like, seriously.”

 

“I really miss you, too,” he echoes.  “I can’t wait to be closer to everybody there, and have a real support system.  Mom’s great, and so is Pearl, but...I just...feel like I need more.”

 

“Same,” Mariana agrees.  “Makes so much sense.”


	196. Nobody's Fool

People might think that kids like Francesca are easy to trick, but Fran’s not.  She knows better than to trust just because a mean person does one nice thing. That doesn’t mean they’re going to keep being nice for real.  Or forever.

 

Jesus has the email, but Dr. H. is having them pause before reading.  To get grounded.

 

“This makes me think about getting stuff taken away.  Like getting bad grades and stuff…” Fran admits.

 

“Grounding can absolutely mean losing privileges, yes.  But this kind of grounding means being sure of where you are.  Knowing where your body is in space. Staying present,” Dr. H. explains.

 

Fran giggles a little and claps a hand over her mouth.  (Imagining her, and Jesus, and Dudley, and Dr. H. all floating around in space with astronaut helmets is funny.)  “I’m sorry,” she manages from behind her hand.

 

“You can express yourself freely in here.  Let’s try to take a deep breath, Slowly. Let your hands touch the armrests of the chair you’re in.”

 

Fran tries, but she doesn’t want to lose her stretchy strings.

 

“Let me know when you feel ready,” Dr. H. prompts.  “More relaxed, and aware of where you are, and what’s around you.  Let me know you’re ready by meeting my eyes.”

 

“I know the last two…” Fran offers quietly.  “But not the first. I can’t relax...and I don’t really like looking at grownups in their faces...no offense.”

 

“Thank you for telling me that,” Dr. H. says.  “I won’t ask you to. But can I ask you to look around the room for me?”

 

Fran glances.

 

“Really look,” Dr. H. encourages.  “Pick something you like, and can experience with a lot of your senses.”

 

“This chair?” Fran asks.

 

“Very good choice,” Dr. H. praises.  

 

Then, they take forever, as Dr. H. asks Fran questions about how it looks, and feels and even how it sounds and smells.

 

“Helps if you really lean into it,” Jesus encourages, making her smile.

 

Finally, Dr. H. is having Fran take more deep breaths.  She’s so distracted, though, because all she can smell is Jesus’s oceanish man deodorant and spearmint from his body wash.

 

“Sorry.  I can’t smell the chair.  I can only smell Jesus…” Fran admits.

 

(Dr. H. asks what smells she notices.  If they comfort her or not. This whole conversation feels weird.)

 

“Can we talk about the email now?” Fran presses after what feels like a million years.

 

“Of course.  You mentioned your moms are going to a thing.  What kind of thing is it? Do you know?” Dr. H. asks.

 

“Like, a thing for parents to learn how to treat their kids with disabilities.  It lasts five days. Family Day was yesterday. So...it was the first time we got to see them in a long time.  Like, for real,” Fran explains.

 

“They’re at a workshop,” Jesus clarifies.  “Through Nothing About Us Without Us, the disability organization.”

 

“I see,” Dr. H. answers.  “Would you like to read the email, Francesca?  Or would you like Jesus to?”

 

“Jesus. My eyes jump too much when I try to read big paragraphs…” Fran explains.

 

“Okay.  I’m gonna skip over the parts that don’t apply to you, for privacy,” Jesus says.  “There are some parts Moms wrote just to Mariana.”

 

“Okay,” Fran agrees.  She tunes in when Jesus gets to the part about the adoption lesson.

 

He reads: “ _ First, Fran, we got to hear Oliver talk about Disability and Adoption today.  It really opened our eyes and we are sorry that we’ve made you feel ashamed for being curious about your background. _ ” __

 

“Can we pause?” Dr. H. asks and Jesus does.  “Francesca, would you say that’s accurate? That your mothers have made you feel ashamed for being curious about your background?”

 

“I guess, yeah.  Because they never told me anything before,” Fran says.

 

“How do you feel hearing them apologize?” Dr. H. asks.

 

Fran meets her eyes for one of the first times.  “Skeptical,” she says. “Jesus, can you keep going?”

 

_ “Your biological father is named Timothy Hasani, but we know you’ve figured that out by now.  He is a teacher, and has been a coworker of Mama’s for a long time. He is a good person. We are very thankful to him for helping bring us you.”  _ Jesus reads.

 

Dr. H. pauses him again here.

 

“How do you feel hearing all of this information?” Dr. H. wonders.

 

“Kinda like, ‘ _ So, what? _ ’” Fran says.

 

“If you had to pick a feeling to describe ‘ _ So what _ ?’ what might that be?” Dr. H. asks.

 

“I don’t really care,” Fran says.  “Like, I already knew that stuff anyway.  And when I tried to ask before…” she trails off.  “Anyway, it’s like that.”

 

“So, maybe, you’re unimpressed?” Dr. H. asks.

 

“Yeah.  Like, they want me to be impressed but I’m not,” Fran nods.  She looks to Jesus again.

 

__ He keeps reading:  “ _ We hope you have a good first session with Dr. H. today.  Know you are free to talk about whatever you need to. It’s your session and we support you.” _

 

Francesca rolls her eyes.  “Yeah, right… This isn’t even like them.  Tell her, Jesus!”

 

“It’s...typically...this isn’t the way they talk to Fran at all.  Makes sense that you’re skeptical and unimpressed, buddy.” Jesus says.

 

“Please just read the rest of it…” Fran begs.  “I just want this over with.”

 

_ “To all of you (including you, Jesus,) Our love for you does not waver.  It is always there. Having disabilities does not make us love you any less.  We love you all more than you could ever know (but we will start letting you know - Mom.)  We will remember that we are raising adults, and more than that, human beings, and that you all have the right to grow into exactly the people that YOU are meant to be - not who we have tried to make you,”  _ Jesus reads.

 

“I hate them like this!” Fran exclaims.

 

“I hear that you’re angry right now.  Do you know why?” Dr. H. asks.

 

“Because it’s not real!” Fran exclaims.  “They’re just faking!”

 

“You don’t feel loved by your parents?” Dr. H. asks.

 

“Of course not!” Fran continues.  

 

“So, let’s try to take a slow, deep breath, please,” Dr. H. cues.

 

Fran’s heart is beating hard and fast inside her.  She’s sure Dr. H. and Jesus and Dudley can all hear it.  She can’t scream at people or they’re all going to smack her in the face.

 

She can’t do this slow deep breath thing or she’ll cry.  Better to just apologize now and hope it works.

 

“Sorry,” Fran apologizes, her voice tight.

 

“Why are you sorry?” Dr. H. asks.

 

Beside Fran, Jesus is softly coaching her to breathe, and focus on her stretchy strings.

 

“Because I’m not supposed to yell,” Fran admits.

 

“But in here, you can express yourself freely.  That means you can laugh, or yell, or cry. Whatever you need to do.  The only thing that I would need to stop is unsafe behavior. Like, harming someone else with words or actions, or hurting yourself similarly,” Dr. H. explains.

 

“And you’d have to tell them…” Fran finishes.

 

“Right.  I would have to let your mothers know, as well,” Dr. H. agrees.  “But laughing is one-hundred percent acceptable. So is yelling about your feelings.  I’m not going to share that with anyone else.”

 

“I’m not either, buddy,” Jesus reassures.  “What happens in therapy…”

 

“...Stays in therapy…” I remember.  Mama made us say that all the time.” Fran says.  “Is the email almost over?”

 

“Almost,” Jesus reassures.  He keeps reading: “ _ We love you.  We will do better.  We loved seeing you yesterday.” _

 

Fran makes a face.  “I didn’t love seeing them yesterday.  It was scary. I’d rather live at Jesus’s…”

 

“I hear you saying you were scared seeing your mothers again.  And that you’d rather live with Jesus. Would you say you trust him?”

 

“Yes,” Fran nods, holding Jesus’s hand.

 

“What about your mothers?” Dr. H. asks.

 

Fran shakes her head.  “Almost done?” she whispers to Jesus.

 

“Just one more little paragraph and then that’s it…” Jesus reassures.

 

Francesca takes a deep breath and tries to listen.  Not explode or cry or laugh or something else totally embarrassing.

 

_ “P.S.S. Francesca, we would love to check in with you at 7:30 PM each night, just to see how you’re doing and if you need anything.  Sound good?” _ Jesus reads.  “ _ You three matter so much to us.  We hope that starts becoming clearer. Love, Moms _ .”

 

“How do you feel about what your mothers said about wanting to check in with you each night?” Dr. H. says.

 

“Not comfortable,” Francesca answers, because she’s not.  

 

“Like, you wouldn’t want to?” Jesus asks.

 

“Not all by myself.  I hate talking to them all alone,” Fran admits.

 

“Do you want to write them back?” Dr. H. asks.

 

“Not really…” Fran admits.

 

“It might be helpful to let them know what you think and feel,” Dr. H. encourages.

 

“Not if they won’t listen,” Fran points out.

 

“Would you rather I wrote them back, buddy?” Jesus asks.  “We could settle on what I could say in here? So you’d know?”

 

Fran shrugs.  “Only if you want.  You  _ are _ the only one of us they even listen to…”

 

“I definitely wanna help,” Jesus nods.  

 

“Can I offer something?” Dr. H. asks.  

 

Fran nods.  (Like she really has a choice over whether an adult talks or not…)

 

“If you’d rather not hear feedback from an unfamiliar adult right now, I respect that,” Dr. H. says and it feels like she’s reading Francesca.  It’s kinda creepy.

 

“No, you can say,” Fran insists.

 

“What I heard is that you’re still very hurt and very skeptical that your parents could have changed so drastically in so little time.”

 

“Yeah, but they already know that we don’t really believe them on that,” Fran points out.

 

“Still, if you wanted to include something about how you felt so they had current information, that would be alright.  I also heard that you’re afraid to sit down one on one with your parents.”

 

“Because I am,” Fran answers, arms crossed.

 

“That’s valid.  It makes sense,” Dr. H. tells her.  And it takes a few minutes of Dr. H. telling her other things for Fran to relax enough to feel the arms of the chair and focus on her stretchy strings again.

 

“The most important thing here is your safety and your comfort level,” Dr. H. says.  “It’s entirely within your rights to request to have someone else with you when you meet with your moms.”

 

“Like Mariana or Jesus?” Fran asks.

 

“Right,” Dr. H. nods.  “And I think, if you told your moms anything in response, this might be a place to start.  Tell them your boundary.”

 

“But telling them things is scary…” Fran insists.

 

“I know, buddy.  But that’s why I’ll do the sending.  They can still have time to see it tonight or tomorrow, so by the time they see you, you won’t have to worry about their reaction.”

 

“Jesus,” Fran says.

 

“What?” he asks.

 

“Nothing...just...I’m always gonna worry about their reaction…” Fran admits, quiet.  “You think, like, this is gonna change everything. But for me and Mari? We don’t know if it will change anything.  Being there might still suck.”

 

“I know.  I just… I think it could help.  To tell them your feelings and needs and stuff...as much as you can...while they are where they are.  So they can actually take it in.” Jesus explains.

 

“But Francesca’s saying she isn’t comfortable with that option right now,” Dr. H. points out and Fran’s a thousand percent surprised.

 

“Fine,” Fran blurts.  “Tell them I don’t wanna talk one on one with them.  Just because I don’t wanna get home this weekend and have that happen.”

 

“Okay.  So, you’d need either me or Mari to be there with you at 7:30?  Who would you rather?” Jesus asks.

 

“Literally either one of you.  And if you can’t, then I’ll video chat Pearl or Michael or Jaimie or someone…  Maybe Olivia…”

 

Jesus emails them back right then and there, showing Fran exactly what he writes before he sends it:

 

_ Moms -  _

 

_ Re: 7:30 Fran needs to have backup when she talks to you.  Me or Mariana, Jaimie or Michael or Olivia need to be present when you check in with her. _

 

_ Jesus _

 

“Those sound like great options,” Dr. H. praises.  “Well, listen, we’re just about out of time, but it was very nice meeting you, Francesca.”

 

“Nice meeting you,” Fran mutters, putting her stretchy string away.

 

“So good to see you again,” Jesus tells her, and Dr. H. agrees.  

 

Fran is halfway out the door, when she turns, curious:

 

“Hey, so…  Is there homework?  I remember we always had homework before…”

 

Dr. H. smiles.  “You are doing a lot of work already, Francesca.  But if you feel up to it, practice noticing where you are.  Where your body is.”

 

“That’s it?  Just practice noticing?”

 

“Yes.  See if you can get to that calm place where you feel present,” Dr. H. encourages.

 

“What if I can’t?” Fran asks, nervous.

 

“Well, it takes a lot of practice, and that’s something I’ll be helping you with when you come to see me.  You can practice on your own time if you want to. But you don’t have to.”

 

“Because you don’t force kids?” Francesca guesses.

 

“Right.  I don’t force kids,” Dr. H. agrees.

 

Fran nods to herself.  “Okay then,” she says. “Bye.”

 

“Bye, Francesca,” Dr. H. calls.


	197. You've Got a Friend in Me

Pearl still hasn’t heard from Fran again.  She can’t reach Jesus, and Levi’s talking to Mariana.  Dominique’s been keeping a mysteriously low profile doing Halloween things.  Still, she probably wouldn’t mind a call.

 

Pearl clicks Facebook video and hopes.

 

“Hey,” Dominique says on the other end of the call, smiling.  She props her phone against something so she can keep working.  “What’s going on?”

 

“Not much.  I’m so honored to be admitted into the inner sanctum of costume-making,” Pearl remarks.

 

“Good.  You should be,” Dominique smiles easily.  

 

“You seem happy,” Pearl observes.  

 

“You know,  I am. Halloween is my favorite time of year.  Best holiday. If I’m dressed like a badass, they all have a good reason to stare.  Let them gawk ‘til they walk into shit then…” she remarks.

 

“Who are you going as?” Pearl wonders.

 

“Uh-uh,” Dominique shakes her head.  “You’ll know when everybody knows.”

 

“Seriously?  But I’m positive your mom knows.  She’s an Avoider. That’s breaking your own rule,” Pearl points out lightly.

 

“It’s not, because my mom doesn’t know either.  They know not to ask any questions.”

 

“But a badass…  Hmm,” Pearl muses playfully.  “And I get a firsthand look at your costume pieces...so what do the clues tell me?”

 

“Pearl West,” Dominique shakes her head.  “Nothing. They tell you nothing. Hey, did you get to touch base with Fran at all?”

 

“A bit, yeah.  Didn’t get to send her any cute animal gifs, though,” Pearl shakes her head, regretful.

 

“I sent her some baby sloths and chicks and stuff,” Dominique reassures Pearl.

“So...what are you and Levi going as?”

 

“What?  Oh, no. I haven’t Trick-or-Treated since I was ten.  And last year, Levi didn’t ask to go or anything. He brought home candy and we had a few Trick-or-Treaters.  One little baby dressed like a flower. Her bag reached the ground and she was so happy, saying, ‘ _ Candy _ !’”

 

“Oh my God, the little ones are the  _ best _ ,” Dominique moans.  “Wait. What kind of flower was she?”

 

“I don’t know…  Pink?” Pearl offers.

 

“Aw…” Dominique nods.  

 

“There was one Buzz Lightyear.  Levi loved that,” Pearl passes along.

 

“Amazing,” Dominique gushes.  “Seriously, though, are you guys okay?”

 

“We’re kind of both deep in our Dad feelings?” Pearl admits.  “Levi and I don’t really know how to talk about it. Or grieve together?  Since we went through everything so separately…”

 

“Yeah, I get that.  We’ll have y’all’s backs.  Need to talk about anything in the meantime?” Dominique wonders.

 

“No,” Pearl sighs, scratching Cleo behind the ears.  “But I miss you. I miss it there. I miss not walking around looking over my shoulder all the time.  I can’t speak for Levi, but I’m fairly sure he’d agree…”

 

“It seriously sucks,” Dominique nods.

 

And Pearl realizes that she’s never really given thought to the fact that she might be living a version of what she and Levi are, with no place far away to fantasize about escaping to one day.

 

“It does,” Pearl comments quietly.  “Can I ask… How do you cope with it?”

 

“I...guess I just stay hyperaware.  It’s exhausting. But it helps to be able to have a place here to let my guard down and just be.”

 

“Yeah.  I’m looking forward to that,” Pearl muses.

 

“We’re looking forward to having you.” Dominique agrees.

 

\--

 

“So, is Mariana okay?” Pearl asks once Levi emerges from his room.

 

“I guess…” he says, scratching his head.

 

“So...I know there is no real good time to bring this up but...Dad,” Pearl says quietly.

 

Panther perks up at this.  It’s like she knows when he’s being discussed.

 

“What about Dad?” Levi wonders.  He seems pale. A little withdrawn.

 

“Like...I didn’t know last year...and his...date...it’s coming up.  Did you..I don’t know...want to do anything specific for it? Did you and your mom…?”

 

“No.  We didn’t.  You were here, Pearl.  God. If you bothered to ask before recently, you’d know...  Last year...I just...I stayed here. That’s it. I wish everybody would stop asking me about it.”

 

“I’m sorry but I didn’t think I was everyone.  Have other people been asking you?” Pearl wonders, wincing.

 

“Mariana,” he breathes.  “And, like, I appreciate it.  I do. But at the same time? I don’t know what to do.  I never have. I’d go to church or something but they’d all just tell me to get over it.  Besides, I’ve never found one here. Don’t know if I want to.”

 

“I’m sorry if I...touched a nerve,” Pearl ventures.  “It’s just...I don’t want you to think that we can’t discuss Dad.  We can.”

 

“And I’m sorry I snapped at you about last year.  It’s just… I know you just found out. But it… I’m not the expert here.  I can’t have you leaning on me, or looking to me for what we both do.”

 

Pearl blinks.  “I wasn’t looking for that.”

 

“I just...need to get out of here,” Levi manages around a lump in his throat.

 

“When things get tough, we run,” Pearl says sympathetically.  “Wanna go together? Take the dogs? I think they’d love it…”

 

“You hate the woods…” Levi points out.

 

“Yes, but I love you,” Pearl responds gentle.  “Come on,” she opens the door, inviting.

 

She has her fingerless gloves and a cardigan sweater on over her usual short-sleeves for this time of year, and track pants.  Perfect for a little jaunt through the woods.

 

“You don’t wanna test me right now,” Levi says, the light of a challenge in his eyes behind the grief.  “My nickname at school was Shazam.”

 

“I don’t know who that is.  But perhaps you’ve heard of the legend of Lightning Bolt West…” Pearl shares.  “Come on, Cleo. You wanna race?” she asks.

 

Cleo grins.

 

Panther’s entire rear end is wiggling in anticipation of going out.

 

“There’s no such thing…” Levi shakes his head, weary, but a smile still threatens.  “Lightning Bolt West? That’s…”

 

“That’s me, little brother,” Pearl says.  “Nothing’s faster than light.”

 

“Superheroes…” Levi responds, unconvinced.  “Shazam is one of the Top 5 fastest ever.”

 

“We’ll see…” Pearl says.  They walk outside and she stretches a little, preemptively.  Levi does the same.

 

“On your mark...get set...go!” Levi says.

 

They’re neck and neck, making their way on the well-worn paths Pearl and others have made through here over the years.  The air is crisp and cool. She loves it. Levi seems equally enlivened by it.

 

It strikes Pearl that for all their knowledge of each other - all their shared biological connections, including their speed, they’ve never run together.

 

It’s invigorating.

 

Levi finishes ahead of Pearl in the end, in part because of Cleo’s stubby legs, and in part because it’s been more than two decades (as opposed to Levi’s two years) since she’s been in shape enough for high school track.

 

They flop down together on the grass, out of breath.

 

Pearl’s staring at the sky when Levi asks, “Can we do this more often?”

 

“We can do it whenever you want, yeah.  I loved that. And I...clearly...need to get back in shape...to have a chance against you…” Pearl pants.

 

“It was fun,” Levi agrees.  “And you’ll get faster with practice...and maybe if Cleo rides along on Panther…”

 

They both crack up.

 

\--

 

It’s evening when Pearl’s Facebook video chat rings with a call from Jesus.  Pearl’s thrilled to see not only him, but Mariana, Fran and Dominique, as well.  “Hey, Levi. Avoiders are here,” Pearl calls.

 

Levi comes running and skids to a halt, bowl of ice cream in hand.

 

“Don’t tease me like that,” he complains.  “I was expecting them sitting in here!”

 

“Um, we _ are _ sitting in here,” Fran points out.  “So, guess what? Mari and I need all you guys to help us.  Because Moms want to talk to us every single night of the week, and I hate that idea.”

 

“Me, too,” Mariana nods.  “So we decided we’d do a sister check-in.  Both of us together.”

 

“So…” Fran continues.  “Can you guys be our backup?  Like, I know you guys are busy on Fridays, so I asked Olivia.  Michael and Jaimie said they could do Tuesday and Wednesday. Dominique said Mondays.  Jesus said Sundays. But we still have…”

 

Pearl looks on, interested, as Fran checks a piece of paper.  

 

“Thursdays and Saturdays.” Fran finally announces to the room at large. 

 

“What time?” Pearl asks.

 

“7:30,” Fran passes along.  

 

“Same time each night,” Jesus adds.

 

“I’d be glad to be there Saturdays,” Pearl volunteers.  “I’m home most of the time anyway.”

 

“And I can do Thursdays.  My new job...I shouldn’t work past 4:30 most days,” Levi offers.

 

“Okay, do we have the whole entire week covered with Avoiders and Olivia?” Fran asks.  “Oh my gosh, yes!”

 

“Good job, buddy,” Jesus says, giving Fran a high five.

 

“How was talking to Dr. H?” Pearl wonders.

 

“Eh…” Fran shrugs.  “She was okay. She has one of Jesus’s drawings on her wall.  It’s in a frame and everything. Like my drawing from him.”

 

“Wait.  What’s your drawing from him?” Levi asks Fran.

 

“Me.  When I was little,” Fran admits.  “Mama framed it and put it on our bookcase for me to always be able to see.”

 

“Aw, that’s cool.” Levi answers.

 

“So...how are you guys?” Mariana asks, glancing at Jesus, Dom, Pearl and Levi.

 

“Dom?” Jesus asks.  “How are you?”

 

Pearl has the pleasure of seeing a surprised smile touch Dominique’s lips.

 

“I...am very happy right now.  Sorry if that’s insensitive. I know Halloween’s not your favorite holiday, Jesus.  But it is mine. So, I’m really enjoying myself getting ready. Roberta’s my assistant.”

 

“How does that work?” he asks, smiling a little.  “What’s she do?”

 

“Supervises,” Dominique shrugs.

 

“Ah,” Jesus nods.  “What about you guys, Pearl and Levi?”

 

“We ran,” Pearl volunteers.

 

“Shazam beat Lightning Bolt,” Levi adds proudly.

 

Fran, Dom, Mari and Jesus all exchange confused glances.

 

“I’m Shazam.  Pearl’s the Lightning...you know what…  Never mind,” Levi shakes his head.

 

“But you had fun?” Dom wonders.

 

“Definitely,” Pearl nods.  “Fran, how was Family Day for you?”

 

“I liked the bathrooms,” she says diplomatically.  “And Olivia. And Rosa and Pablo were nice, too.”

 

“Yeah?” Levi asks.  “Mari? Anything you like?”

 

“They’re going to use up all of Rosa’s stamina…” she says, worried.  “They already like...sucked up all her energy once. She’s gonna… I mean...what if she hates me and doesn’t wanna be there after the fact?”

 

“What?  They might hate us because of Moms?” Fran worries.

 

“Guys.  Whoa,” Jesus says.  “Slow down for a sec.  Rosa...and Olivia...they both know that you guys are way different people than Moms.  They’re your community. They get you in a way Moms don’t. They want to be here for you.”

 

“I hope so,” Mariana says.

 

“Yeah, I hope so,” Fran echoes.

 

“Hey.  Question,” Levi interjects, thinking out loud.  “So...if one of us has something come up on our 7:30 day...would you want us to tell you that ASAP, so you could cover?  Because I’m thinking about that and...there’s gonna be a Thursday I can’t swing.”

 

Pearl’s already looked up Thanksgiving this year. It will fall on the 25th.  Dad’s anniversary won’t be until three days later, but she’s getting the feeling Levi wants to be prepared, in case he’s out of commission the entire time.

 

“We’ll make sure somebody’s there,” Jesus reassures.  “Just let somebody know the day. And...we probably have to get going. Fran’s got homework.’

 

“Stop, Jesus,” Fran whines.  “I’m sorry for whining, but I don’t like you telling everybody what I have to do.”

 

“You know I meant school homework, right, buddy?” Jesus checks softly.

 

“Oh.  Sorry,” Fran apologizes.  “I just blocked that out.”

 

“Well, we’ll talk to you later, Fran,” Pearl says.  “You guys are going home Saturday, right? So you’ll see me in two days, to be your backup, if not before then.”

 

“Okay.  Bye guys,” Fran says.

 

“Good to see you, Levi,” Dominique waves to him.

 

“Yeah, you too,” he says.

 

When they hang up, as always, the quiet is jarring.

 

“I’m never gonna stop missing them…” Levi says softly.

 

“Me neither,” Pearl confirms.


	198. Those Magic Changes

It just figures that the last day of the workshop, Stef’s finally feeling like she’s getting the hang of it.  Like, she can do this - go out there and take in information and be a better mom to her kids - by the last damn day.

 

What’s she supposed to do once it’s over?

 

It puts her in a bad mood.  And it’s worse because Lena’s all motivated and enlightened.

 

Their first session is about people with disabilities and police.  Stef feels like there’s a giant spotlight on her the whole entire time. Lena doesn’t hold her hand.  It’s one of those things the two of them have vastly different experiences of.

 

A week ago, Stef wouldn’t have thought people with disabilities have any kind of increased negative experience with cops but according to Keisha, their speaker, you are three times more likely to be killed by police if you’re Black...and almost half of those killed by police are disabled.

 

Stef can’t meet Keisha’s eyes.  She’s both Black and disabled. Like Fran.  And hearing this again just reminds Stef how horribly she messed up by threatening Fran with jail last spring.  

 

She hadn’t meant she wanted her to be killed.  She meant it the way her dad meant it when he told Stef the same, growing up.

 

But Stef has to remember that she and Fran are not the same.  Clearly. She has to force herself to take notes, with a churning stomach, sick at the fear she’d struck in her daughter without even realizing.

 

It makes Stef remember Jesus’s intense fear of cops - at its height when he first arrived home after being abducted.  How he asked countless times if she would use her handcuffs on him. Or her gun. Especially if Jesus felt like he was in trouble for something, or if it was a certain time of year.  Winter, she noticed, was more difficult than summer.

 

Should she be  _ that _ explicit with Fran?  What should she do? Aside from not threatening her that way again.

 

Afterward, she talks to Lena:

 

“You knew all this...didn’t you?” Stef asks, still trying to calm her roiling stomach with a Sprite.

 

“Some of it.  The parts about disability were new,” Lena allows.

 

“I taught them about stranger danger.  About what to do if someone took them. But you...talked to Jesus, and Mariana and Fran...about police.  Even though I gave you a hard time about it,” Stef admits.

 

“Yes,” Lena says simply.

 

“So…  How can I...help...Fran now?  Now that I made her afraid of me?” Stef asks, clearing her throat.

 

“I think...the same as with everything else we’re learning…  Keep being honest with her. Let her bring it up. Let her talk about it.  Answer her questions, even if they seem obvious or touch a nerve...and keep apologizing…” Lena lists slowly, so Stef can jot more of this down.

 

“I just…  I’ve been so clueless, love.  How can they ever trust me? How can you?” Stef asks.

 

“I can, because you’re here.  You’re willing to learn. And hopefully, that will make a difference with Jesus, Mari and Fran, too.”

 

\--

 

Rosa takes a deep breath and makes her way over to Stef and Lena for one of the last times.  She’s been in contact with Mariana, having asked for consent to share with Hope that Mari is also a survivor, with the intent of having another qualified person help make the call about who to recommend.  Stef and Lena have also provided a list of counselors at locations their insurance covers, which narrows their original list down considerably. Eliminating male therapists as per Mariana’s request narrows things even more until there are just two to choose from.

 

Mariana graciously agreed for Hope and only Hope to know that she’s a survivor, so that she can help select the most appropriate person to help Mari.  Luckily both Hope and Rosa have agreed on one they trust. She’s local. In San Diego. And she’s good.

 

Rosa brings this information - name and contact information - along when she sits down at Stef and Lena’s favorite table.  (Rosa only has her listed as a trauma therapist. Mariana can tell them more if she desires.)

 

“First things first, I have this for you,”  Rosa hands off the information, keeping her verbal explanation brief, because they’re in public, and people are milling around.

 

“Thank you,” Lena says, accepting the Post-It and putting the information in her phone before tucking the paper in her purse.  “We appreciate this. Really.”

 

“Also...you’ve gotten a few emails from Mariana and Jesus.  Jesus, on behalf of himself and Fran. If you’re ready, I’d like to give you ample time to read over them and take everything in.”

 

“Why?  Are they bad?  The emails?” Stef asks.

 

“They’re still pretty raw…” Rosa warns.

 

She passes along the printouts of the emails and waits as Stef and Lena read Mariana’s.

 

“I thought you were going to help us out with this stuff.  So, we don’t keep putting our feet in our mouths when we speak to them,” Lena objects.  “Mariana feels like we personally insulted her.”

 

“Yes, she does,” Rosa nods.

 

“I appreciate that you have a lot to do, but you could have warned us.  Or had us rewrite it like the other one…” Stef points out.

 

“Listen.  You two are about to go home.  To real life. And yes, your kids will have us, and other support in place, and so will you.  But you need to get used to making mistakes, apologizing as much as they need, and moving forward together,” Rosa says seriously.

 

“I know that, but…  It’s just… I don’t know if I’m ready…” Stef admits.

 

“You’re not,” Rosa says matter of fact.  “This workshop is five days long, and have you learned a lot?  Yes. But you’re not going to be perfect. The most important thing you can do right now is to believe your kids.  Believe what they tell you about their experience, and that includes their experiences of you.”

 

“She feels betrayed that we never listened to her.  To Fran. Or Jesus about the fact that trying to cure them is bad.  That we had to hear it from strangers in order to take it in…” Stef muses.

 

“Well...I mean, think about it.  This is their identity. Part of their identity.  Right? If I’m understanding correctly?” Lena asks.

 

Rosa nods.

 

“So, wanting to cure them of something that’s a part of who they are.  Something they can’t change. That would be very harmful. Like we learned yesterday.  I think Mariana’s right to be upset,” Lena points out.

 

“It’s not about right or wrong, though...respectfully…” Rosa interjects.  “It’s about validating your kids’ feelings. Listening to them. Letting them know what they say makes sense and matters to you.”

 

“She says...we said we were happy to sit down with Fran and Jesus but not with her.  I didn’t mean it like that. I was just trying to make it easier on her.” Lena objects.

 

“By deciding for her?” Rosa asks.  “She’s a grown woman. And she can easily discern your enthusiasm level for sitting down with her brother and sister, versus sitting down with her.”

 

“But I just happened to write to Mariana first, because the time we were thinking was the earliest…” Lena presses.

 

“It’s not about sequence, though.  It’s about warmth. She can feel you’re obligated toward her, not that you love her, and would love to talk to her.”

 

“Even if we do say it...at this point...is she going to believe it?” Stef says.

 

“It’s going to take more than one email.  This is a lifelong thing. You need to get to know your kids again.  Especially, Mariana. She’s not the same person she was two years ago.  She needs to know you love her. Unconditionally. Always. That’s what a parent does.”

 

“Let’s get to work,” Stef says, taking a deep breath and beginning to write:

 

_ Mariana, _

 

_ We’re so sorry it’s taken us so long to learn these basics, especially when it’s been so detrimental to you.  We understand you’re betrayed and it makes complete sense that you would be. We should have been listening to you and Fran and Jesus all along. _

 

_ Love is a tricky thing.  For me (Mom) because I wasn’t raised hearing it much myself.  My dad especially just assumed I knew. Love from him came in the form of providing for us.  He used to tell my mother, “She knows I love her. It’s implied.” But I didn’t. So it’s difficult for me to say it.  But I will get better about it, because I do love you. Very much. (We do love you.) And we want you to know it. _

 

_ We are so sorry we didn’t ask you about 5:30 like we asked Fran and Jesus.  And we are so sorry that our warmth and love for you did not come through in the last email.  Rosa keeps telling us that you’ve changed since your TBI. Not in the way we used to believe. But in the way a big life change / trauma can change people.  We look forward to getting to know you again and talking to you about what matters to you.   _

 

_ Rosa has also passed along the name and number for a counselor you can see.  We will put in a call to her today and see when she can get you in. _

 

_ We know it’s hard to trust us when we have done so much to hurt you in the past.  We will make mistakes, but we will not break your boundaries. We will apologize and mean it.   _

 

_ You matter so much to us and we don’t want to ever lose you. _

 

_ Love, _

_ Moms _

 

_ \-- _

 

Stef blows out a breath and checks the time.  They have fifteen more minutes of this break. And two more emails.  She reads the first one quickly. The second is an update to the first:

 

_ Moms -  _

 

_ Update: Mari and Fran want check ins together - 7:30 PM.  They have backups for each night. Me, Dom, Jaimie, Michael, Levi, Olivia and Pearl. Sun-Sat.  I’ll call/text at 9:30 PM - and check in w my ppl too about any issues. _

 

_ Jesus _

 

“Since you mentioned getting Mariana that appointment, I should see if I can get anyone on the phone.  To see what’s available,” Lena says. “I’ll do it in the car. Do you have Jesus’s email?”

 

“Yeah.  Of course, I have it,” Stef says.

 

“Everything okay?” Rosa asks, once Lena’s walked away and shut herself in their car.

 

“She can’t even talk to me alone…  Francesca. Neither one of them. But Francesca specifically, needs backup from her safe people in order to even feel safe having a conversation with me…” Stef shares, blowing out a breath.

 

“And that’s going to be a lot to deal with.  But it’s kinda beautiful, isn’t it? How Fran and Mariana adapt?  Are they scared to talk to you and Lena, yes. Do they have good reason to be?  Absolutely. But they’re here. They came up with a solution that wasn’t: ‘ _ We don’t want to talk to Moms ever again _ ,’ but ‘ _ Here’s a way we can _ .’  There’s beauty in that.  They haven’t thrown in the towel yet.  They’re close. Don’t get me wrong. They’ve been hurt a lot.  And it’s not going to be an easy road. But they’re still willing to try.  Are you?” Rosa asks, her gaze unflinching and somehow compassionate at the same time.

 

“I am,” Stef nods.  

 

“So, what’s the most important thing you want to communicate to Francesca and Jesus?”

 

“Our love.  Our support of their decisions,” Stef says.

 

Rosa gestures, like, ‘ _ Go for it, _ ’ and Stef starts writing:

 

_ Dear Jesus, Francesca and Mariana, _

 

_ We love you all so much and we’re so glad you still want to talk to us, even though we’ve hurt you so much.  We promise, that stops. And we are still so sorry. We think it’s such a good plan (and so smart) to have backup for each night, in order for you to feel comfortable.   _

 

_ If it’s okay with all three of you, Mama and I would love to stop by tonight to talk about what going forward will look like, coming home, etc. _

 

_ Also, Mariana, Mama is on the phone now (in private) seeing about openings for scheduling (non-Tomas) therapy for you. _

 

_ Love Moms _


	199. Good News

Jesus waits until he knows Moms are on lunch break to call them.  He’s got their email. And Mariana got one from them, too. She was cautiously optimistic, but only just.

 

Fran hasn’t seen the latest email - and the one line that caught his and Mari’s attention about it.

 

“They wanna come over.  Crap. Do they remember what happened last time?” Mariana asks, bitter.

 

“They weren’t here for the fallout.  They don’t know. I’m not saying I’m on their side.  Just...they  _ did _ ask this time.”

 

“So what?” Mariana challenges.  “That’s basic decency, Jesus. It doesn’t mean we have to honor what they want.”

 

“You’re right,” he nods.  “So...what  _ do _ we do?”

 

“Hell if I know,” Mariana huffs.  “I’m so messed up right now, Jesus.  Knowing we have to go back there? Knowing I’m about to go back to...that  _ shit _ .  Where I can’t do anything to protect her...”

 

“Mariana,” Jesus says, sympathetic.  “I know. It was the worst feeling when I couldn’t protect you, too.”

 

“I feel...like I told Levi…  When somebody is asking you how you feel about something...but the thing is inevitable anyway?  It’s like… There really is no choice. And I hate that,” Mariana manages.

 

“I know,” Jesus nods.  “So...maybe...we control what we can…” 

 

“Which is what, exactly?” Mariana snaps, irritated.

 

“Which is...whether to meet or not, first of all.  Would you rather meet? Or not?” Jesus asks.

 

“I’d rather have parents who give a damn, and didn’t have to go to a freaking workshop to learn to…” Mariana rants.

 

“Same,” Jesus agrees.

 

“I guess...I’d rather talk to them...as long as we wouldn’t have to, like, leave with them tonight, or whatever.” Mariana confirms.

 

“No way.  I was hoping we’d all get this last night together,” Jesus says.  “So, we’ll wait to hear what Fran feels, too. Because I know she’s not gonna like us making decisions without including her.  But I think, I’d agree. I know it’s not really my conversation. It’s about what you and Fran want and are comfortable with. But...I don’t know...I’d just feel better knowing we have as many chances to talk to them without you both there as we can…”

 

“So...that’s it?  That’s what we can control?  One thing?” Mariana asks, still seething.

 

“No.  We can also have a say over where,” Jesus decides.  “I know they said they wanted to come over here. But it doesn’t have to be here.”

 

“What’s the alternative, Jesus?  Like...it’s here, or somewhere public.  And I’m not going back there before we have to.”

 

“I hadn’t thought of that…” Jesus admits.  “Damn it.”

 

Dudley cocks his head, concerned.

 

“I know I don’t wanna ask Dominique to crash her Halloweening.  Talk about epic rudeness,” Jesus muses.

 

“And I’d rather leave Jaimie and Michael out of it, too.  Like...so their house can be...an escape if we need it. Somewhere we could go, where they wouldn’t find us…” Mariana contemplates.

 

“Right.  Yeah, I can see that,” Jesus agrees.  “So, I guess that leaves here. The lobby--”

 

“--Too public,” Mariana interjects.

 

“Right.  I agree.” Jesus nods.  “What about… We shouldn’t take them to Avoidance, right?”

 

“No.  We’d have to rename it - Just As Crappy As The Rest Of The World…” Mariana riffs.

 

Jesus smiles, regretful.  “So...we’re back to here. I’m really beginning to see what you mean about a choice that isn’t really a choice.  Sucks,” Jesus confirms. “We can’t talk to Fran about this while she’s at school. So we’re gonna have to wait a few hours.  I wanna call them on their lunch break, but I wanna know what we can legitimately say. I don’t wanna promise them we can sit down with them, without knowing Fran’s feelings.”

 

“Right.  Me, neither,” Mariana confirms.

 

“Well, what if...we say...that we’ll sit down with them here?  Tonight? We check with Dom, or Jaimie and Michael to see if any of them are options for Fran if she’s not feeling it.  If not, I guess…” Jesus trails off, thinking.

 

“I can stay with her…” Mariana offers.

 

“Yeah, but where?” Jesus wonders.  “If Stef and Lena are here?”

 

Mariana types into her phone briefly and then glances up.  “Dom says it’s fine if we need to stop by for a bit tonight.”

 

“Okay,” Jesus nods.  “So, they’ll come over.  Talk to either me, or all three of us.”

 

“For how long?” Mariana asks.  “Because, they might never leave…”

 

“Good point.  Should we say...is an hour too long?” Jesus asks.

 

“Cut it in half,” Mariana advises.  “That way if Fran’s there, too...and me...there’s an end in sight.  Make sure they know. And agree. If you still wanna call them, do it.  But I’m gonna email NAU so Rosa and the rest can see the plan. So they’re accountable.”

 

“Okay.  Good plan.”

 

\--

 

Finally, Jesus takes a deep breath and dials Lena.  

 

“Hey,” he says.  “We got the emails.”

 

“That’s good.  Mariana’s new therapist can meet with her on Monday morning,” Lena passes along.

 

“Cool...but I think that’s something you should save for Mari,” Jesus hesitates.  “Anyway, I just wanted to say...that...it’s cool if you wanna come by at 7:30 tonight.  Might just be me. Might be me and Mari or all of us, depending how Fran feels. We haven’t gotten to talk to Francesca yet.”

 

“Okay, great,” Lena says.

 

“Wait,” Jesus cautions.  “We’re only consenting to a half hour.  Assuming you call to be let in.”

 

“Mariana has our key,” Lena passes along, sounding sheepish.

 

“Still.  This isn’t gonna be a four-hour thing.  None of us have stamina for that.”

 

“Understood,” Lena says.

 

“Mom, too?” Jesus checks.

 

“I’ll let her know,” Lena reassures.

 

“Okay.  Mariana’s gonna email, just to be sure everything’s down in writing and everybody knows what’s going to happen tonight.”

 

“Sounds good,” Lena says.  “Look forward to seeing you guys.”

 

“Talk to you later,” Jesus says.  “Bye.”

 

\--

 

The Disabilities and Education session was enlightening for Lena.  She took copious notes and found herself really liking Teri, the speaker - a high school English teacher in her fifth year.

 

Lunch flew by, with a phone call from Jesus, and Lena has to admit, she’s a little giddy, despite knowing that the kids aren’t.

 

Having things in place - like Mariana’s new therapy - feels empowering.  Like, she and Stef are actually doing things to help the kids, according to what they actually need.

 

It feels like the beginning of something.

 

The session they attend after lunch is led by Robyn, who has Down Syndrome.  She talks about disability and representation. It reminds Lena a bit of Sarah’s session, but Robyn covers different things.  

 

Actual tropes - disabled people as saints or villains, depending on the story.  Disabled people being magically cured, or curing themselves by their own force of will.  The bitter disabled person. Disability-as-an-Educational-Tool. Disabled character playing a bit part in a nondisabled person’s story.  And last but not least? Where disability is a secret the disabled person keeps, but a nondisabled person comes along and loves them anyway.

 

“These are terrible.  Seeing this on TV. In books.  People will think we should be like this.  With our disability making us bad. Being loved  _ anyway _ doesn’t make us feel good.  Being loved does.” Robyn had memorably said.

 

And isn’t it true?  Hadn’t Lena’s only idea of Cerebral Palsy come from a single episode of  _ Touched by an Angel  _ where a nonverbal girl in a wheelchair was nothing more than a bit part in the nondisabled story.  Now, Lena can’t even remember the child’s name. But she remembers the nondisabled character well. His strife.  His journey.

 

By now, it’s the final break of the day, and Lena’s planning to email Mariana with information about her appointment, but there’s already an email from her:

 

_ Moms, _

 

_ You’ve agreed to come to Jesus’s tonight.  Fran and I might not be there, depending on how Fran feels, and how I feel.  But Jesus will. Jesus and I consent to you staying a half hour (7:30-8) assuming it’s an actual calm discussion and doesn’t devolve into abuse.  Olivia volunteered to sit in, via video chat. (Friday person.) For accountability. _

 

_ Mariana _

 

“Is this true?  Did you volunteer to sit in?” Stef asks Olivia, surprised.

 

“I just want you to be aware of what’s happening right now,” Rosa interjects smoothly.

 

“What’s happening right now?” Stef asks, confused.

 

“You’re not taking Mariana’s word,” Rosa says seriously.  “So, Olivia…”

 

“Double check the email,” Olivia advises easily.  

 

“Right,” Stef says.  

 

Lena feels for her, seeing the color in her cheeks.  She’s still not used to being corrected. They’re going to have to work on this.

 

“I just wanna say something right now,” Pablo offers.  “And that is, I think your kids are amazing. And I thank you both for coming.  I hope to see you back here.”

 

“There’s a good chance of that,” Lena confirms.  “I don’t know where we’d be without you three, specifically.  So, thank you all, for everything. It’s not going unnoticed.”

 

Stef clears her throat.  “This, uh, this isn’t really my thing...but, uh...if it makes me a better parent?  I’m glad to have done it. I know it’s not a one-and-done kind of thing. I know that I...really came in...with a lot of misconceptions.  A lot of ableism. I just wanted you all to hear me apologize for that. Genuinely. Rosa, I’m so sorry. I’m so glad you’re here, and can be here for Mariana.  She needs someone who’s farther down the road than she is, to let her know all this is going to be okay.”

 

Rosa blinks back surprised tears.  “Thank you. And yes, she is. I’m glad to be there for her.  And I appreciate the apology.”

 

“And I’ll see you guys tonight, so I don’t really know if a goodbye’s appropriate right now.  But I really like Francesca. I relate to her. And I plan to be in her life for as long as possible.” Olivia shares, a smile spreading.

 

“Pablo...are you and Jesus?  I mean, maybe he doesn’t want us to know, in which case, that’s fine…” Lena stutters.

 

“I’d love to stay in touch.  I gave him my number, but the ball’s in his court,” Pablo says diplomatically.  “Do we wanna say anything else?” he asks, looking to Rosa and Olivia in turn.

 

“Just…  Please… Take care of them,” Rosa urges, her voice heavy with feeling.  “I’m not going to be one of those people who pats you on the back and tells you how hard I know it is raising a kid with disabilities.  Just like I said the first day...I’m gonna tell you...you’ve got freaking awesome kids… Like, I am seriously jealous of you for having the awesome kids you  _ get _ to have.  Realize...the gift you’ve been given in each of them.”

 

“We are.  We do,” Lena nods.  “I mean, we’ve started to.”

 

“I know this has been hard,” Olivia says, sympathetic.  “But ultimately, it’s good, right? It’s good news? Like you said, Stef.  Because you get what so many parents don’t. You guys get a second chance to try to make things right with your kids.”

 

“That’s true,” Stef nods.

 

“If the kids need anything, please tell them to call us,” Pablo urges.

 

“Yes,” Olivia agrees.

 

“And I’ll pick a day once I’m back on my feet, to check in with you both each week.  Make sure to get the resource packets at the end of the week. The notes to my session are in there,” she advises, with a knowing look at both Stef and Lena.

 

“We’ll get them,” Lena confirms.

 

Before Rosa, Olivia and Pablo leave, Lena opens an email and types:

 

_ Dear Mariana, _

 

_ We’ll be there tonight.  7:30 - 8. Also, your new therapist can see you Monday morning.  We’ll get you help, for whatever’s going on, sweetie. (If you ever want to tell us, you’re more than welcome to, but we respect your privacy.) _

 

_ Love you, _

_ Moms _

 

Hugs somehow don’t seem right, so they just walk back inside together.

 

One more session, and they’re out of here.

 

Lena swallows the lump in her throat.


	200. One More Night With You

Francesca goes from being super excited it’s the weekend to hating it.  It’s basically her last night ever at Jesus’s. Moms made it pretty obvious that they never want her staying over there, back before she ran away here.  Now that she’s been living here for weeks, they’ll probably never let her come back again.

 

By the time Jesus and Mariana arrive home with her, they both know something’s not right.  She’s gone from talking a mile a minute about Kimani doing ballet positions in the morning and Shane playing guitar during recess - Fran’s request -  _ Speechless _ from  _ Aladdin _ , to just not talking.  Going actually speechless.

 

“What’s up, buddy?” Jesus checks.

 

“We have to go home, right?” Fran asks in a tiny voice.

 

“Yeah.  Tomorrow,” he tells her.

 

“That sucks!” Fran exclaims.  

 

“I know,” Jesus nods.

 

“It does,” Mariana agrees.  “I’m mad, too.”

 

“Why would you be mad?” Fran asks, pouting.  “You could stay here forever if you wanted. You’re an adult.”

 

“Yeah, but not really.  There are rules for living in these apartments.  I haven’t done all the things. And besides...I’m not leaving you,” Mariana points out.

 

“I hate this…” Fran says, crossing her arms. She never wants to get out of the car.

 

Then again, maybe she should.  And then never get back in it, so that way Jesus or Moms or whoever, can’t take her back there.

 

Fran hurries out of the car and inside.  She rides the elevator up, facing the wall, so that no one can see her tears.  The second she gets inside, she climbs over the back of Jesus’s futon, shoes still on, and slides down to hide there.

 

“Whoa, buddy.  Can you please not walk on the futon with your shoes?” Jesus asks, irritated.

 

Fran doesn’t answer him.  Instead she waits a full minute and then tells them, “I’m not going!  And you don’t want me to hide in the laundry room anymore, so I’m hiding inside!  Where  _ you guys _ said to!”

 

“We _ did _ say that,” Fran hears Mariana tell Jesus softly.  “We’ll give you space for a few minutes, okay? We’ll be right out here.”

 

Fran buries her face in her knees.  Her scarred one still looks awful underneath her pants.  Every time she looks at it, Fran thinks about that terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day where she fell on the playground.  The detention. The talk with Moms where Stef threatened to send her to jail.

 

Just thinking about going back makes Fran’s hands cold.  Makes her throat tight. She can’t keep her tears in.

 

“Fran?  Can we come back there with you?” Mariana asks.

 

“You’re too big…  Both of you are…” Fran says brokenly.

 

“I don’t know about that…” Jesus says, and with her consent, he scoots the futon away from the wall far enough that he and Mariana can sit back here, on either side of her.

 

Mariana doesn’t say anything - just opens up her arms.  That’s because there’s nothing to say that will help this.

 

Jesus stays there while Fran cries, which he usually doesn’t.  After a while, when Fran’s stopped crying, he says he has something he has to talk to her about.  “I’m sorry to have to bring this up...especially when you’re already upset. But Moms emailed about stopping over tonight.”

 

“I’m not going,” Fran says, even though it’s not like she has a choice.

 

“No.  Not to take you guys.  Just to talk to us, for like, a half hour.  About how things are gonna be at home now,” Jesus explains.

 

“I already know that…” Fran mutters darkly.  “They act nice for as long as other people are watching.  But when no other people are watching, then they just are their usual way…”

 

“So...Jesus said he wants to sit down and talk to them.  I’m not sure I want to. And we wanted to see how you felt…” Mariana says.

 

“This isn’t fair…” Francesca whines and she can see Jesus wince.  “I’m sorry,” she whispers, because that’s the only way Jesus won’t hear her whining.  “But it’s not. I hate being left out of stuff, but I don’t wanna see them.”

 

“Oh.  I forgot to say…  If it makes a difference?  Olivia’s gonna video call in, so Moms can’t be jerks to us,” Mariana remembers.

 

“Oh no…” Fran says, a smile threatening.  “Well now I basically  _ have  _ to go.  I love Olivia so much…”  She’s switched back to regular volume as she asked, “Just for a half hour?”

 

“Yeah, and Rosa and Pablo and Olivia all saw in the email that Moms agreed to that,” Jesus confirms.

 

“I guess I have to go then…  I mean, not go. Just be there when you guys talk to them.  If you want to, Mari.”

 

“Well, if you’re both going, I’m going,” Mariana decides.

 

“So, it’ll be just like old times,” Fran muses softly, leaning her head on Mariana’s shoulder and keeping hold of Jesus’s hand.

 

\--

 

Stef’s brain is nearly at capacity.  Their final session, about Disabilities and Employment was especially bleak.  Turns out that disabled people are qualified for a lot, but it’s a crapshoot whether jobs are accessible, whether employers won’t discriminate.

 

Their last speaker was Jess, a thirty-something woman with bright orange hair that matched her chair.  She surprised Stef by being an actress. She’d actually had bit parts in things where it wasn’t just about her disability (CP again!)

 

Afterward, she and Lena make sure to pick up every information packet available.  Especially, the ones headed: Family Therapy, How to Connect Your Child to the Disability Community, and all of the notes from Rosa’s session, just as they promised.

 

\--

 

Mariana’s tense as she waits for Moms to arrive.  She’s made coffee (after screwing it up once.) Jesus is still pissed about Fran walking over his bed in her shoes.  Fran’s made it clear that she has no plans to say she’s sorry, because she was just doing what they wanted her to do in the first place. During dinner, they ate all spread out, none of them wanting the intense closeness of being around a table tonight.

 

So...this meeting with Moms is gonna be interesting.

 

“Hey, what about Val?” Mariana asks.

 

“What about her?” Jesus wonders, still trying to mop up water from Mariana’s latest coffee disaster.

 

“Would she come to this?  So we have somebody here in person, who could do something if they…” Mariana trails off with a look at Fran.

 

“Hit us,” Fran fills in flatly.  “Right, Mari?”

 

“That’s not a bad idea.  Let me see if she’s around.”

 

It doesn’t take long for Jesus’s expression to let Mariana know that Val is with another resident right now.

 

“Bummer,” he says.

 

“Not like it matters anyways,” Fran says irritably.  “Olivia will be here. Big deal. But it’s not like any of these extra people can live with us until we both move out.”

 

“I know,” Mariana nods.  She glances at her phone.  

 

The time flips from 7:29 to 7:30.

 

\--

 

“I guess it’s now or never…” Stef breathes and scrolls through the directory until she sees J. ADAMS FOSTER.

 

“What if they don’t let us in?” Lena worries.

 

“I guess, according to Rosa, that would be their choice.” Stef answers.  She hits the button, highlighting Jesus’s name.  

 

“Hello?” Jesus answers.

 

“Hey.  It’s Mom and Mama.  We’re at the front doors.  May we come in, please?” Stef asks.

 

“Sure.  I’ll buzz you in,” Jesus answers and the door slides open in front of them.

 

Stef opts for the stairs over the elevator, because they’ve been sitting a lot lately and she has excess energy to deal with.  Lena decided to ride the elevator up and waits at Jesus’s door for Stef to catch up.

 

Finally, Stef makes it, a little breathless.

 

Lena knocks quietly.

 

Jesus opens the door.  “Hey,” he says again, softly.  Dudley’s at his side, alert, but not reacting.  (Jesus must be nervous, but not triggered.)

 

He closes and locks the door behind them and then joins Fran and Mariana on the couch.  Stef and Lena have no choice but to pull kitchen chairs out to the living room...which they do.

 

Just about then, Fran’s phone rings with a video call.

 

“Oh!  Yes! It’s Olivia!” she exclaims, more excited than Stef can recall her being in recent memory.  She answers, beaming. “Hi. My moms just got here.”

 

“Great.  Can you point me, or set me somewhere so I can see what’s going on?” Olivia asks.

 

“Here you go,” Fran says, propping her phone up on the end table.  “You can see us, right?”

 

“Most of you, yeah,” Olivia confirms.

 

Lena looks to Stef quietly.  Expectantly. “Oh, am I…? I’m talking, okay.  Good to know,” Stef laughs a little. “So, Mama and I just wanted to come over and talk to you guys now that we’ve been to the entire workshop.”

 

“Did you learn anything else?” Fran asks critically.  “Other than how to actually love us? And how to be nice about…  Oops. I don’t know if I’m allowed to say.”

 

“To say what, love?” Stef asks.

 

Fran leans over and whispers to Jesus, who speaks up:  “She doesn’t know if she’s allowed to say ‘Timothy.’ She’s afraid you’ll hit her,” he says bluntly.

 

Stef can feel her insides contract.  She looks to Lena, since this really is more her lane.

 

“Sweetheart, of course you can say ‘ _ Timothy _ .’  We’d never hurt you for talking about him.”

 

“But you did before,” Mariana points out.  “So, how is she supposed to know?”

 

“Fair point,” Stef clears her throat.  “You can absolutely talk about Timothy.  And no one is going to hurt you because ‘No Violence’ means no one is allowed to hurt anyone else physically in our family.  That includes hitting. And that does apply to me and Mama.”

 

Stef glances at the time on Fran’s phone.  Ten minutes gone already. Only twenty more to say everything they came to say.  

 

“So, we wanted to be sure you know that we have a plan for accountability.  We have some parents from the workshop who are going to check in with us every single week.  You guys have your people who are going to show up for you when you talk to us and that’s in place until or unless you guys decide otherwise,” Lena says.  “Also, we have an appointment lined up for Mariana, on Monday. And Fran, it sounds like, based on the voicemail I got, that you’re going to see Dr. H. Thursdays, is that right?”

 

Francesca nods.  “And we can still say whatever we want?” 

 

“Whatever you need to say,” Stef encourages, though her stomach drops at the idea.

 

“What if…  I need…” Mariana tries.

 

And this is where the rubber meets the road, Stef thinks seriously.  Because weeks ago, she’d have made light of this moment or pressed Mariana to speak.

 

“You think you might need something more?” Lena asks.

 

“Just...what if…  What if, like...meds or something?” Mariana manages, blushing.

 

“That’s a good point,” Lena says.  

 

“We’ll schedule another appointment to see if you could benefit from that,” Stef says.  Both she and Lena make notes in their phones.

 

When she glances up, Mariana looks stunned.

 

“Mariana?  What is it?” Stef asks, concerned.

 

But it seems she’s struck silent, so Fran answers for her, equally surprised.  “You listened to her. And you also didn’t make fun of her when she talked.”

 

“That’s great feedback, you guys,” Olivia encourages, and Stef almost jumps out of her skin, having forgotten Olivia was still here.

 

“One more thing…  We’re also going to the workshop annually,” Stef says.

 

“What’s annually?” Fran asks Jesus.

 

“It means once a year,” Jesus tells her.  

 

All three turn their faces back toward Stef and Lena, but they don’t look particularly impressed.

 

“Most of the...uh...the parents there…  Especially the ones with, um, with disabilities?  They go every year,” Stef manages to say. She’s so beyond nervous and so not used to talking up front with them about disability like this.

 

“So, you’re going ‘cause you wanna be like them?” Fran asks.

 

“Or you’re going because you wanna be better?” Mari adds, crossing her arms.

 

“We want to be better,” Lena says.

 

There’s a knock on the door and Stef glances up as Jesus goes to check the peephole and opens the door.  Val stands on the other side. Jesus opens the door wide for her.

 

“Hey.  How’s it going in here?” she asks lightly.

 

“Pretty good,” Jesus answers.  “Moms were actually about to go.  You wanna walk them out?”

 

“Sure, I’d be happy to,” Val agrees and gestures them forward.  

 

It takes another glance at Fran’s phone for Stef to realize it’s 7:59.  Time has flown by.

 

They’re almost to the door, when Francesca calls out “Wait!” and Stef’s heart leaps.  (Maybe they’ll get a hug after all?)

 

But instead, she’s stunned as Fran asks matter-of-factly: “Do you love us now?”

 

“We do,” Lena answers.  “We really, very much do.  We love all three of you so much.”

 

Stef just nods along, because her eyes are stinging and her throat is full of tears.

 

_ They really don’t know _ … is all her brain can hold.

 

“Okay?  You guys doing okay?” Lena asks on their way out the door.  “I realize we didn’t check in with you.”

 

“Kind of crabby…” Fran offers.  “From the trauma.”

 

“Right.  Well, that’s to be expected,” Lena reassures with a smile.  “See you guys soon.”

 

“Okay, bye,” Jesus says, closing the door behind them.

 

\--

 

That night, Jesus isn’t even mad when Francesca decides against sleeping on the air mattress and crawls up on the futon, right between him and Mari.  Dudley gives up trying to fit and decides on a chair close by.

 

“Sorry, I walked all over this with my dirty shoes,” Fran whispers.

 

“Thank you, buddy.  I appreciate the apology,” Jesus says.  Maybe having her in charge of treating the futon with Resolve wouldn’t make her hate him after all.

 

“Don’t forget the shower chair,” Mariana says sleepily.

 

“I wrote it down,” Jesus reassures.  “I love you guys. And I want you to know that I’m not getting rid of either one of you.  If you ever need me, I’ll come for you. Always.”

 

There’s no answer but his sisters’ deep, even breathing.

 

Damn, he’s going to miss them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part VI.


	201. Black Balloon

Being back home sucks ass.  They’ve been here for about an hour.  Jesus is gone now, and Fran is finally starting to relax.

 

Mariana isn’t, because she’s only had about three months out of her entire life that’s been stable.  Where she’s been able to breathe. (And that’s the collective amount of time she’s spent with Grams and Grandpa Adams, plus time at Jesus’s, Dominique’s and on vacation with Levi and Pearl - the one where Moms didn’t come.)

 

The fact that there’s a fucking counseling appointment looming has Mariana feeling raw and unpredictable.  (It hadn’t helped that Jesus had been up late texting. Mariana felt it every single time he shifted. Couldn’t block out his bright as hell phone screen.)

 

All she wants to do is sleep, but she’s wary of their room.  Of her own bed. It’s made. Her pillow’s there. And Moms have moved everything back in that needed to come in, with no complaints, even the shower chair.

 

Mariana had been nervous to use the railing in front of them, but all Stef asked was: “Work okay?”

 

Mutely, Mari had nodded.

 

“Okay, because if you need something adjusted, I can do that.”

 

“Okay,” Mariana had said.  

 

It was so weird.

 

Now, it’s like every single thing they’re saying and doing is getting under Mariana’s skin.  Eating lunch makes her feel like she’s on display at the zoo or something, even though Moms aren’t staring.  Fran’s not either.

 

But Mariana can’t relax.  She can’t stop holding her breath.

 

When she fumbles her spoon, splattering tomato soup everywhere, the clatter echoes in her head.

 

“Damn it!” she exclaims, scraping her chair back.

 

“Hey.  Miss-- Mariana,” Lena corrects.  “It’s okay, honey. We’ll just clean it up.”

 

But her shirt has tomato soup dots everywhere on it, and it’s her beach shirt from Jaimie.  And she has an appointment this afternoon to see if she can get put on any meds to help her cope with this life-sucking depression.

 

The chair scraping - hers and Lena’s - makes Mariana want to claw her ears off.

 

“God!  Shut up!” she exclaims, desperate.

 

Fran’s quiet, barely moving. Probably expecting the same thing Mariana is: some Mom-handling.  Comments about inappropriate outbursts. Trashing her stuff. Leaving her.

 

“What’s wrong?” Stef asks and her voice sounds strained.

 

“She told you already,” Fran points out in a whisper.  “It’s too loud.”

 

“I’m tagging out for now.  But I’ll be back,” Stef tells Mari.

 

And this is too much.  Stef’s leaving. Again.  Of course. Why should Mari have thought anything would be different?

 

\--

 

Stef retreats upstairs where she tries to calm her own racing heart.  Months ago, Mariana screaming at her would have escalated quickly. But Stef knows that if she can’t safely stand by the contract, the expectations, the kids’ boundaries, she needs to remove herself.

 

God, she wishes Rosa were available right now.  But she’s got to respect what Rosa said about her own limits…

 

Limits!

 

Stef rushes to dig in her purse.  Finds Mariana’s answers to Rosa’s questions.  Mariana’s told them what she needs in moments like these.  When she’s at a limit, she… Stef scans the collections of answers until she finds the ones she’s looking for.

 

“When she needs a break she needs...us to let her take a break...somewhere quiet and dark.  No guilt about it later. And...be there for her like we were for Jesus. Check in with her.”

 

Stef breathes out, grabbing the Scotch tape and affixing Mariana’s answers to these questions beside the contract on the inside of their closet door.  They’ll probably need this one a lot.

 

Then, she goes to find Mariana.

 

\--

 

“Fine!  Go! I don’t care!” Mariana screams at Stef’s retreating back.

 

“Mariana...Mom and I meant to show you and Fran something.  Will you come with me?” Lena asks in a softer tone.

 

But Mariana’s completely lost in all the words and overstimulation.  Fran stands and extends a hand to her. They follow Lena somewhere.

 

No, not somewhere.  Jesus’s old room. Moms’ office.

 

Lena pushes open the door and Mariana blinks.  There’s no desk. No desk chair. The TV’s gone.  Instead there are pillows stacked in one corner. Blankets in another.  Jesus’s old beanbag chair and some of his old posters back up on the wall.  Mariana’s old fairy lights from her middle school phase are up on the wall. She’d thought Moms had thrown those away years ago.

 

“What is it?” Mariana asks, her voice flat.  Impatient. Which she is. Do they know how much energy it’s taking to hold this in?

 

Lena’s mouth moves, but it’s like she’s an adult in one of those old Charlie Brown cartoons.  Mariana can’t make sense of a single word.

 

Stef appears at her side, gesturing like, “ _ Go in, _ ” and Mariana lurches to comply.  Fran appears in front of her. She flings a pillow hard at the wall.  Then hands one to Mariana, nodding.

 

She does, first with one pillow.  Then another. Then all of them in every corner of the room.  She screams and screams and screams. And when she realizes Moms and Fran are gone?  She screams some more. Being sensitive to noise, and unable to stop screaming is like some kind of torture thing.  Finally, she can’t scream anymore and buries herself in layers of soft blankets. She avoids the beanbag because it crunches.

 

She just lies in the dark.  Fairy lights off. Room lights off.  Room darkening blinds drawn.

 

No one comes barging in.  No one starts yelling or demeaning or demanding she pick up all the crap.

 

She stumbles over to the switch on the wall.  For the fairy lights and they light up a pretty border around the ceiling.

 

It takes her a while to realize there are words - those vinyl stickers - on the ceiling.  It says  **BREAK ROOM** .

 

What?  

 

Moms made a break room?

 

Mariana can’t take it in.

 

She just stares up at the words, until she nods off.

 

\--

 

“Is Mariana in super big trouble?” Fran asks as they leave Mariana so she can have her feelings in privacy.

 

She follows Moms to the kitchen where they start cleaning up Mariana’s tomato soup mess.  They keep looking at each other, but not at Francesca. Fran wonders if they’re thinking it again:  _ two kids with brain damage _ .

 

“Honey, I’m sorry.  Did you say something?” Mama asks.

 

“Yeah…  Is Mari in trouble?” Fran asks in a tiny voice.

 

“No.  She’s not.  It looked like she was at a limit.  And that’s what the break room is for, right?”

 

“I think it can be for other reasons, too…” Fran ventures, cautious.  “Like if you just want good sensory, or like safety or something…”

 

“That’s a good point,” Mom agrees.  

 

Fran is in shock.  (Seriously, they never say she has a good point.)  So Fran is just watching Moms put plastic over Mari’s sandwich and soup and put it in the fridge for later.

 

“Are you okay?” Mama asks.

 

“Can I come when Mari goes to the doctor?” Fran asks.

 

“Well, if Mariana doesn’t mind,” Mama comments.

 

It’s a long time before Mariana comes out of the break room.  She’s pale, and still in her same beach shirt she accidentally spilled on.  Her hair is messy.

 

“Hey, sweetie?  I know you’re having a rough time right now, but your appointment to see if you need medicine is this afternoon.” Mama says.

 

Mariana blinks sloth-speed.  She looks at Fran, like she’s super confused.  “What?” she asks.

 

“Your appointment,” Mama says again.

 

“Oh,” Mariana answers.

 

“Do you want to change?” Mama checks.

 

“No.” Mariana says, and Fran waits for it.

 

“Okay.  Do you want a jacket?” Mama tries again.

 

This time, Mariana nods.

 

Mama gets one for Mariana and hands it to her.  Even offers to help her zip it, but Mariana does it herself.

 

“Can I come?” Fran asks.

 

Mari nods and they make their way out of the house.

 

\--

 

Lena ends up sitting in the waiting room with Fran.  Mariana goes in by herself, knowing that Lena offered to come in if she needed backup for any reason.  (Stef opted to stay home, soak in the quiet, and clean the break room.)

 

“So…” Lena begins awkwardly.  “When Mariana was… What I mean is…  Earlier, in the break room?”

 

“Yeah?” Fran answers.

 

“You were very good at figuring out what Mariana needed.  How did you do that?” Lena wonders.

 

Fran shrugs.  “I don’t know.  We just talk about it a lot.  In the Avoiders, you know?”

 

“You talk about what?” Lena asks.

 

“Accommodations.  Things each of us needs.  Like...they know one of mine is not to leave me behind or at the very back of the group by myself for going the slowest,” Fran explains.

 

“Really?” Lena says, interested.  “I didn’t know that.”

 

“Well, why would you?” Fran asks bluntly.  “You didn’t used to let us talk about stuff like that.  You said one time it was giving up and you didn’t want to hear that kind of talk.  But really, it’s disability culture.”

 

“ _ I _ said that?” Lena asks weakly.  “You have...such a strong memory…”

 

“I remember everything,” Fran says solemnly.

 

When Mariana comes out a while later with a prescription for Zoloft, they go immediately to the pharmacy to get it filled.

 

“This might take time....” Lena says, once they’re home again, and Mariana’s putting the Zoloft in her purse.  They drove thru a local Wendy’s for dinner at Fran’s request.

 

“What?” Mariana asks.

 

“To build up in your system,” Lena explains, gesturing to the pharmacy bag still on the table.

 

“Oh.  I know…  I mean… How do you know that?” Mariana manages, not looking at Lena.

 

“I’ve taken it,” Lena confides.  “Some of the side-effects are difficult, especially as you adjust. But know you can keep me informed.  It helped me to take it in the evening, so that I slept through some of the more unpleasant ones.”

 

“Oh,” Mariana nods.

 

“Mama?” Fran asks from the living room.

 

“What, Fran?” Lena answers.

 

“Now that Mariana’s taking more medicine again…” she hedges.

 

Mariana glares in the direction of the living room.  Fran comes to the kitchen and sits at the table, undeterred.

 

“Now that Mariana’s taking medicine again, what?” Lena asks.

 

“Nothing…  Just...does that mean you guys are gonna spy on us again with the intercom?”

 

Mariana looks at Fran, and then at Lena, eyebrows raised in a “ _ Well _ ?” expression.

 

“No, that’s over now,” Lena says, her cheeks heating up.  But there’s no point in pretending they weren’t using the intercom as something more than a safety measure.  To make sure not only Mariana was safe...but that Francesca wasn’t at risk of being hurt by her.

 

“What’s over?” Stef asks.

 

“Spying on Fran and Mari with the intercom,” Lena explains.

 

“Oh.  Yeah, good riddance to that thing,” Stef says, crunching on a carrot from the fridge.

 

A silence falls as all four of them realize simultaneously that they’re in the same space at the same time.  Stef makes the first move, of course.

 

(It’s one of the things Lena loves most about her.)

 

“How are you doing?” Stef says, coming up to hug Mari.

 

Mariana bristles.

 

“I’m sorry.  Boundaries. I just…  How are you?” Stef asks, backing off.

 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Mariana insists.

 

“I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have,” Stef tries again.

 

“Damn right,” Mariana mutters.  

 

“I’m just...I’m trying to check in with you,” Stef explains, a little breathless.  

 

Lena has to admit that it’s harder than she thought to stay calm in the face of Mariana’s anger.  But she has to remind herself, Stef did break a boundary just now, and collectively, they haven’t done much to earn Mariana’s trust, especially since her brain injury.

 

“Hate you,” Mariana says, sounding defeated.

 

Stef’s face flushes, and there’s temper in her eyes.  “You know what, Mariana…”

 

“Wait!” Francesca says, coming over from the table and standing in front of Mariana, arms out, like the umps used to do at Brandon and Jude’s Little League games to signify they were safe.  “Wait, wait, wait,” Francesca insists, her eyes wide. Mariana’s backed up against the counter.

 

Another image rises to the surface of Lena’s mind.  Several years ago, after their trip to Frank’s cabin as a family.  In the kitchen. Right here, almost exactly. Brandon and Jude fighting.  Jesus, shoving Jude behind him, thinking Brandon was about to hurt his brother.

 

“Okay.  Let’s take a breath,” Lena encourages softly.

 

She and Stef do.  

 

Fran and Mariana don’t.  Their eyes never move from Lena and Stef’s faces.

 

“Nobody is going to be hurt,” Lena says calmly.  “Right?” she asks Stef.

 

“Right,” Stef confirms.

 

“So, let’s sit down,” Lena invites, walking into the living room.

 

She notices how Stef keeps pace with her, but Mariana and Fran lag, and hold each other’s hands.

 

“What were you going to say, Fran?” Lena asks, when the two of them are seated side by side on the couch, still holding hands.  Again, she and Stef are left to take chairs.

 

“That…  Wait… Can I tell them about the time you said that to me?” she asks Mari, and Lena’s seriously confused.

 

Mariana nods, though.

 

“Okay, so…  There was this one time when Mariana accidentally said she hated me,” Fran explains.  

 

“Accidentally?” Stef asks.  She sounds skeptical.

 

“Yes, it’s like sometimes the wrong words come out when she means other ones.”  Fran turns to Mari. “ _ Did  _ you mean other ones?”

 

Mariana nods.  “Hate...this…” she manages, still not looking at either one of them.

 

“Mom did cross a boundary,” Lena observes, casting a knowing look at Stef.  “So, it would make sense if you were mad about that.”

 

“And!  You can tell whichever safe person you want to, because it’s in the contract!  Like maybe even Pearl! Tonight!” Fran exclaims to Mariana.

 

“Easy,” Mariana tells her and takes a deep breath, nodding for Fran to do the same.  It’s easy to forget both of them have trauma until moments like these. When Francesca’s breathing, too, Mariana looks at Stef and says, “I will.  Tell.” There’s something in her eyes.

 

Last month, it would’ve been easy to peg it as defiance.  As proof Mariana had gone somewhere irretrievable, but now Lena squints.  Cocks her head. And sees her baby girl, born into so much chaos and surviving in spite of it all.

 

It’s not defiance at all.  It’s determination.

 

“You should,” Stef says, surprising Lena.  “Accountability.”

 

Silence falls in the aftermath of Stef agreeing with Mariana.  Like none of them can really figure out what to do.

 

Finally, one of them speaks.

 

“It’s almost friend-time,” Mariana says, excusing them.  “I don’t want you to check in...until it’s time. Too weird…”

 

“Okay,” Stef nods.  “We’ll let you go. Have fun with your friends and we’ll talk to you both at 7:30.”

 

“Bye,” Fran says, waving over her shoulder as she leaves the room with Mari at her side.


	202. One Call Away

It’s always an adjustment for Jesus to get used to quiet.

 

It’s been a thing ever since Then when He used to use the TV and radio at max volume to cover any time that Jesus or the other boys might’ve tried to scream for help.

 

Jesus hasn’t really had time to think hard about that trauma for a few days.  What with Family Day and so much going on, and getting Mari and Fran settled again at Moms’.

 

It’s kinda impossible to stop thinking about that.  How they’re doing there. What’s going on every single minute?  Are Moms sticking to what they learned, or are they losing it already?

 

Dudley wanders behind the futon and comes out with something in his mouth.  

 

“Dude, what do you have?  If you caught a mole again, you and me are gonna have problems, because I’m not touching that,” Jesus shudders at the thought.  “Drop it,” Jesus prompts, not asking Dudley to “come” first, just in case.

 

Slothy drops from Dudley’s mouth onto the carpet.

 

“Oh, no.  Fran forgot this, huh?” Jesus asks Dudley.

 

Dudley comes closer now and nuzzles Jesus’s hand.  

 

“Yeah.  Thank you for finding it.  I’ll tell her in a bit when we talk.”  Jesus says, picking up the toy gingerly.

 

Dudley head-butts Jesus lightly.

 

“Of course, I’ll tell her it was you who found it,” Jesus tells him.

 

Just about then Jesus’s video chat rings, and he picks it up.  Sees Fran and Mariana in the top left, Pearl and Levi in the top right.  Dom’s on the bottom left. Jesus is on the bottom right.

 

“Hey,” he greets.

 

“Aw, we’re so spread out,” Pearl observes.

 

“Look what Dudley found behind the futon, Fran,” Jesus says, holding up the stuffed animal.

 

“I was wondering where he went!”  Fran exclaims. She’s lying side-by-side with Mari on Mari’s bed.

 

“Not gonna lie, when he came out from behind it just now?  I thought it was a mole…” Jesus admits. Dudley rests his head in Jesus’s lap.

 

“Ugh!” Mariana cringes.  “Don’t talk about it!”

 

“Why?  It was pretty!” Fran remembers fondly.  “Its fur was all black and shiny and velvety….”

 

“Oh, no…  Anymore talk about velvety mole fur and I am out,” Domimique warns playfully.

 

“Okay fine.  Sorry, Mari. Sorry, Dominique,” Fran apologizes.

 

“Thank you,” they chorus.

 

“Yeah, sorry I brought it up,” Jesus says.  “Terrible influence here.”

 

“No you’re not.  You’re a great influence,” Fran insists.  “You teach me good coping, and about life jackets, and you let me ask just about any question and never make me feel bad about it.”

 

“Well, thanks, buddy,” Jesus nods.

 

“So, how’s home?” Levi asks, concerned.

 

“Sucks,” Mariana says decidedly.  There’s a silence and then she continues.  “But Moms did a thing…”

 

“A thing?  What kind of thing?” Pearl asks.

 

“A break room,” Mariana finishes.

 

“Oh yeah!  Jesus! Moms turned your old room into a break room!  There’s pillows and blankets and lights on the wall and even your old beanbag inside and some of your posters!  There’s even letters on the ceiling now that say it’s a break room,” Francesca enthuses.

 

“Did they ask?” Levi wonders, suspicious.  “Before they took your stuff and put it in there?”

 

“Oh, yeah.  They did it last night, and Lena was texting pics offering to bring back the beanbag and the posters.  I said I didn’t need them, but was happy to donate them to the cause.”

 

“Wait.  You knew?” Mariana asks.  “You’re not supposed to keep secrets,” she says with a rare smile.

 

“I know, but this one you guys were gonna find out about in a few hours, so I figured it would be okay.  Did Moms tell you the part about how you could bring in any of your own soft stuff that you wanted?”

 

“Maybe…” Mariana shakes her head.  “Can’t remember. This day is…”

 

“You okay?” Dominique wonders.

 

“You wanna tell them about any of what happened today?” Fran asks.

 

“Well, I definitely broke in the break room…” Mariana nods.  “Then Stef tried to hug me later and I just...no.”

 

“Without asking,” Fran insists.

 

“Right,” Mariana nods.  “She was trying to help, but…”

 

“But crossing your boundaries isn’t helpful,” Pearl says, knowing.

 

“I told her I was gonna tell you, Pearl.  So you’d know. Are you...still okay with being there tonight?”

 

“Yeah.  Oh, yeah.  I’m set. I have my coffee.  I’ll be ready,” Pearl insists.

 

“Shit.  I forgot.  It’s like two hours later there.  You’re usually like, asleep or whatever by 9:30 your time…” Mariana realizes.

 

“Not if my friends need me,” Pearl says.  “This was my choice. I went in with full knowledge of what time it was going to be here.  I want to do this for you guys.”

 

“Okay, I guess…” Mariana mutters.  “Did any of you guys…? I know it’s a personal question but...meds?” she asks.  “Have you ever been put on them? For, I don’t know… Reasons?”

 

“Yeah,” Jesus nods.  “Pretty much all the reasons.  If you need to talk about anything, I’m here.”

 

“It’s like…  I wanted them…  Not wanted...but like...I knew I needed them?  But I just don’t want to take them… Side effects are terrible, I guess,” Mariana sighs.

 

“So?  Take it at night so you can sleep through the terribleness,” Fran says, and Jesus has to do a double take before he remembers their little sis is like a sponge.  She just absorbs whatever she’s around. And she obviously heard somebody talking about side-effects.

 

“And be symptomatic during the day when I actually need them…” Mariana remarks.

 

Fran shrugs.  “I’m just saying.”

 

“I think they’re time-released or something?” Jesus offers.

 

“Oh,” Mariana blinks.  

 

“So, I have been trying to be chill...and I totally sympathize with your meds and their awful side-effects, Mari, but can I please gush about Halloween?” Dominique asks.

 

“Go ahead,” Levi urges.

 

Jesus notices Fran looking sad.  Dominique must notice, too, because she says:

 

“Fran?  I don’t have to talk about it if it’ll make you too sad.  I’m sorry, I forgot you were feeling upset about it.”

 

(Honestly, Jesus isn’t feeling great about the topic change either, but this is a rare season where he’s been able to see Dominique happy.  He doesn’t want to take that from her.)

 

“No, you can talk about it if you want,” Francesca offers.  “Will you come to our house so I can at least give you and your mom candy and see what you’re being?”

 

“I’d love that,” Dominique beams.

 

“Hello.  Yes, I’d like to lodge a complaint for those of us who live outside the realm of reasonable distance to travel on Halloween night to show off one’s costume,” Pearl says.

 

“Huh?” Levi asks.

 

“I’ve been asking for days to see what you’re working on, and you’re keeping it so under-wraps!  Now, you’re going to show Fran in person, and I have to admit...I’m a little jealous…” 

 

“Are you dressing up in your man costume?” Fran asks.  “No offense. The suit is really good. But if people see you with that giant chocolate bar of his?  They might not think they should give you any candy,” Fran points out.

 

“That’s not who I’m going as,” Dominique answers cryptically.  “I’m not going as anybody I’ve dressed up as before.”

 

“A clue!” Pearl practically crows.  “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. Who knows which costumes Dominique has already?”

 

“Sadness,” Jesus offers.

 

“Katniss.  Tiana,” Mariana lists.

 

“The man...and oh!  Hermione!” Fran says.

 

“So, it’s none of those,” Pearl enthuses.  “Okay… We’re narrowing it down…”

 

“But how are you guys?” Dominique asks Pearl and Levi.

 

“Don’t think I’m gonna get distracted here.  I love a good mystery,” Pearl says. “Wait. Is your mom dressing up?  Maybe there’s a clue in that…”

 

“She is, but I’m not telling as who.  Jesus, Mari and Fran? Don’t tell her if you know, please.  It’ll spoil the fun,” Dominique advises.

 

“Hey, you don’t have to worry about me…  I keep the hell out of secrets,” Jesus assures.  One by one, the Avoiders look at him in alarm. “I mean fun secrets, okay?  Not dangerous ones. Hey, we still didn’t get to hear from Pearl or Levi.”

 

“Or you, Jesus,” Levi points out.  “I’m...basically the same as a day or two ago when I talked to you guys last.  Sad. Not wanting to start the new job. You know? But coping.”

 

“And I am…” Pearl begins.  “I guess I’m coping, too. Running with Levi was helpful, though.  Maybe we could do that, like, once a week? Is that too much, Levi?  Not enough? How often do you run?” Pearl asks.

 

“Hey, that coffee you’ve got, Pearl?” Mariana asks.

 

“Yeah?” Pearl says, glancing up.

 

“You might wanna switch to decaf…” Mariana advises.

 

“Oh, this _ is _ decaf…  Even decaf has more caffeine than I’m used to, so…  It should help keep me awake without putting me over the edge…”

 

“Don’t worry, Pearl,” Fran offers sweetly.  “I know all about how strong coffee is.”

 

“Honestly, I’m a little nervous for my first 7:30 as official safe person.  What’s the job description?” Pearl asks.

 

“Just...listen?”  Mariana says. “Call Moms out if they say something awful?  Kind of...encourage the conversation forward… Talking to them right now is…”

 

“It’s weird, is what it is!” Fran butts in.  “They’re like, super uncomfortable to actually  _ know _ us.”

 

Jesus blinks, surprised to hear it put so succinctly.  But he supposes Fran and Mari would know, better than any of the rest of them.

 

“Jesus, though,” Mariana remembers.  “How are you?”

 

“Uhhh...not to harsh your whole Halloween vibe, Dom, but I…  Halloween’s not my fav. When I was around twelve, I actually got to go out Trick-or-Treating by myself.  It was the second real time I tried getting away, but it...it didn’t really work… I got back and ate all my candy superfast and got sick.”

 

“Can I ask a trauma question?” Fran asks.  “How did you try to get away? Oops, sorry. I should have waited.”

 

“It’s okay, just…  Dominique, are you okay if I talk about this?” Jesus asks.

 

“Yeah.  You know if I had the chance to get away more than once, I’d’ve taken it every time, too,” she encourages.

 

“So, I wrote this message down on a piece of paper about five times.  My real name. Where I was from. Divided the papers, and I picked out specific houses to drop the notes off at.  I did it when I took candy, so I could, like, bury the note at the bottom? Maybe not get in trouble right away? But maybe the adult would find it as I was leaving?”

 

“Did it work?” Fran asked, breathless.

 

“No, buddy.  That time, it didn’t.  Remember? I got back and ate all my candy too fast,” Jesus reminds Fran.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Fran says, deflated.

 

“He had me dressed up as the damn Grim Reaper,” Jesus volunteers.  “So every single part of me was covered. My hair. My hands. My face.  My whole body. Nobody was gonna recognize me. He had a matching costume...and He...dressed up, too.  That same night, He went out...and tried to grab another kid. Being young and dumb and a kid, I thought people might blame me.  Because of the matching costumes…”

 

“Oh my God, I remember that,” Mariana insists.  “The news report was on about that the next night.  I’d gotten in…” she casts a look at Fran and then continues.  “I got in trouble for Trick or Treating too late with Lexi or whatever.  Stef came in the cop car…looking for us.”

 

“No…  How embarrassing…” Pearl moans.

 

“Did you think she was gonna arrest you?” Fran asks, serious.

 

“No.  I was just embarrassed.  I was a little older than you are now.  All my friends got to be out later than me...so…”

 

“So, you tried to stay out later, too?” Fran fills in, knowing.  “Hey, Jesus? I’m just wondering...but what’s the Grim Reaper?”

 

“It’s like...if Death were a person.  An all black costume. Hooded robe. No face.  My hands looked like skeleton fingers and I had to carry this big like...some kind of weapon with a curved blade?” he tries to remember.

 

“A scythe,” Levi fills in.

 

“Hey, maybe this is too scary for Francesca,” Pearl advises.

 

“It’s not.  I wanted to know.  Besides...made-up things don’t scare me…” Fran insists.

 

“Sorry He did that.  Made you go out like that and then...made you feel like you might be in trouble for what He did…” Mariana offers.

 

“Yeah, that’s messed up,” Dominique adds.

 

“Can I ask?” Levi speaks up, tentative.  “Whatever happened with the messages you hid?”

 

“Oh, I heard about them the next day in school.  A kid in the hall said their mom found one,  _ ‘from somebody pretending to be some missing kid named Jesus Foster.’ _   They even asked what kind of name that was.  And I was...literally walking right past them.”

 

“Rude,” Francesca decides.  “That’s so rude, right? Because they should have known that’s not something to pretend about.”

 

“I agree,” Dominique says, looking Jesus in the eyes.  “I hate that nobody found you.”

 

“I feel the same way.  I hate that nobody found you,” Jesus agrees sadly.

 

“I think we have to go…” Mariana says, apologetic.  “Let’s get this talk with Moms over with.”

 

“I’m coming with you,” Pearl says comically.  “Don’t worry.”

 

“Bye guys.  Jesus, don’t worry.  If any little-kid Grim Reapers come for candy tomorrow, I’ll check the candy bowl really good.  And I’ll give them candy, too, so they won’t be hungry. Also, oh, can you bring Slothy back sometime?  I hope Dudley didn’t slobber on him.”

 

“I will,” Jesus promises.  “Thanks buddy.” He waits until Mariana, Fran and Pearl leave and then addresses Dominique and Levi:  “Thanks, you guys, for letting me talk about it. It helps.”

 

“Anytime,” Levi says.

 

“And...not exactly anytime…” Dominique adds.  “But whenever I  _ can _ listen, I want to.  And no offense taken if you don’t wanna see my awesome costume tomorrow.”

 

“Seriously?” Jesus asks.  

 

“Of course.” Dominique says.

 

“Okay, but can you please Polo us?” Levi asks.  “Because I really wanna see this...whatever you’ve been working on that’s making you so happy.”

 

“Of course.” Dominique says.

 

“Will I…?” Jesus hedges, once Levi hangs up.  “In your costume… Would I...know it’s you?”

 

“I think so.  Yeah,” Dominique nods.  “No mask.”

 

“Okay.  Then I’d like to see,” Jesus nods.  “I know, like Levi said...it’s made you really happy, and you’ve obviously done a lot...you know...to make sure it’s finished.  So I’d like to see it. Knowing how much it matters to you.”

 

“Cool.  Well, maybe I’ll come by with my mom, then.  You don’t have a problem with her Maleficent costume, do you?  You saw that last year.”

 

“No, are you kidding.  I love the one with the horns.”

 

“Awesome.  We’ll come by tomorrow evening sometime.  I’ll give you a heads up when.”

 

“Thanks, Dom.  You’re the best,” Jesus says.

 

“Yes, I am,” she smiles.  And then she vanishes from the screen, ending the call.


	203. Love Me Now

It feels more than a little strange - and also oddly right - to be at the Adams Foster’s dining table.  The tablet Mari and Fran are using, and the fact that they’ve positioned it against one of the empty chairs, gives the effective impression that Pearl is right here with them.

 

For a minute or so, it’s just Mari, Fran and Pearl, sitting quietly.  Then, Stef and Lena walk up.

 

“Hi.  Can we sit down?” Stef asks.

 

Mariana nods, gesturing to any of the empty chairs.  Pearl is positioned across from Mari and Fran. Stef and Lena take seats at either end, but Pearl can still see them.

 

From this angle, Pearl can see that both Fran and Mariana are very nervous.  (And why shouldn’t they be? Pearl’s nervous, too. The last time she had a view like this?  Fran was being read the riot act.)

 

“So...it’s 7:30…” Lena leads off, and Pearl can tell immediately that this is what Fran meant.  She sounds beyond nervous herself. “I know, Mariana, you said you’d rather we didn’t check in until now.”

 

“So, how are you doing?” Stef asks.  It’s brusque. Definitely lacking in warmth.  Pearl would think Stef was at work right now, for the efficient way she’s addressing Mariana and Fran.

 

“I told Pearl,” Mariana says, quiet.

 

“Yes, I heard,” Pearl speaks up.

 

“And I also apologized,” Stef insists, tense.  “Several times.”  

 

“Still, Mariana, have you been able to take that in?” Pearl asks.

 

“No,” Mariana admits.

 

“Because, no offense, but Mom, you look really mad right now…” Fran points out.  “And it’s hard to know you’re sorry when you’re mad.”

 

“Mariana, would you say that’s accurate?” Pearl asks.

 

She nods.

 

Stef clears her throat.  “I’m sorry. I can’t help it.  This is just my face right now.”

 

Lena jumps in here: “Sometimes, we cover our feelings with other feelings.  So, Mom looks mad right now, but maybe there’s another feeling underneath.”

 

“Which, makes perfect sense and is totally valid because you’re human beings,” Pearl answers.  “But...it’s not Mariana’s or Fran’s job to play feelings-detective with their moms. To try to figure out where your authenticity lies.  Right now, the issue is, Mariana hasn’t been able to take in that you’re sorry, Stef.”

 

Stef takes a slow, deep breath, seeming to draw upon all of her self control.  “So...what do I do about it?”

 

“Mariana, do you know what’s missing, for you to be able to take in what Stef’s saying?” Pearl ventures.

 

“That,” Mariana says.  “What will you do about it?  Be sorry. Fine. But what about next time?  How is that different?”

 

“I don’t…  I’m sorry. I don’t know…” Stef admits.  “Pearl? Any advice here?”

 

“Why don’t you ask Mariana what she’d like to see happen?” Pearl offers matter of factly.

 

“So…?” Stef asks, looking at Mariana with raised eyebrows.

 

Fran startles everyone but herself as she imitates a game show buzzer.  It feels vaguely familiar, like, perhaps she did the same at the cabin previously.  “No offense, but that was rude what you just did,” she says, risking a glance at Stef.

 

Stef breathes again.  Slow and deep. Just the act of holding a conversation with her kids seems to be testing all of her resolve.

 

When Stef seems marginally calm, Pearl asks Mariana and Fran, “Do you feel comfortable telling Stef what was rude about what she just said?”

 

“She asked you for advice like she...respected you.  For me...she was just like…’So?’” Mariana says. “Respect just...went out the window.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Stef repeats.  “Do you have any advice, Mariana?” she asks.

 

Even to Pearl’s ears, it sounds fake.  Inauthentic to the very core.

 

“Jesus keeps notes.  On his phone,” Mariana points out.  “About ableism stuff. So he remembers not to do it.  He adds to it. We talk through stuff as it happens.”

 

“You want Mom to do that?” Lena asks.

 

Mariana nods.

 

They all watch as Stef opens a memo on her phone, cheeks flushed, and types for a couple minutes.  Then shows Mariana the screen and she nods.

 

Finally, it seems, they’re ready to move on to other topics.

 

“And how are you feeling about being home?” Lena asks.  “I know it must be tough to adjust…”

 

“It is,” Mariana nods.

 

“Fran?  How are you feeling about it?” Lena asks.

 

“I like the break room,” she offers.  “But I’m still nervous about stuff. Like Timothy.  I know you said I could talk about him. But I don’t know if I really can.  Just randomly.”

 

“You really can, even just randomly,” Lena encourages.

 

“I wanna know him when I’m eighteen,” Fran offers softly, not looking at either of them.

 

“That makes sense,” Stef nods.  “And when you’re eighteen, you can make that choice for yourself.”

 

“Why did you guys let everybody else know their bio parents and not me?” Fran asks.

 

Lena and Stef exchange glances.  

 

“Well, it’s a lot of complicated grown-up reasons.  But I will tell you that it was our mistake not answering your questions,” Stef admits.

 

“But Brandon has three parents.  Both of you and Mike. Why can’t I have both of you and Timothy?” Fran objects.

 

“Well, because...Timothy was helping me and Mom have you,” Lena explains.  “He knew Mom and I were going to be your parents and wanted to help anyway.”

 

“So, it was an accommodation,” Fran surmises.  “Because two moms can’t make a baby. So, he volunteered his manness.  Even though he knew he wasn’t going to be a parent for real?”

 

“Basically,” Lena says weakly.

 

“So...are you guys sure it wasn’t because of my CP?” Fran asks, timid.

 

“What?” Stef asks, surprised.  “No. Honey. When he offered to help us none of us knew about that.  Not until way after you were born.”

 

“So...if you did know...you might not have wanted me?” Fran worries.

 

“Francesca, Mama and I...we didn’t know a lot about disability back then.  We still have a lot to learn. I can say that I’m very glad you’re here in our family.”

 

“ _ That’s _ a lie,” Fran scoffs, unimpressed.

 

“Fran?  What do you mean?” Lena asks.

 

“You told Jenna on your birthday...that you didn’t want a sixth kid…” Mariana ventures.  “You were pretty vocal about it. Fran heard.”

 

From her vantage point, Pearl can see that Fran’s resigned.  She’s had six months to digest this apparent truth. Mariana puts an arm protectively around Fran.  Lena looks hurt. Stef is again speechless.

 

“Honey...I’m so sorry.  I should never have said that,” Stef manages.  Her voice thick.

 

“Then why  _ did  _ you?” Fran asks in a tiny voice.

 

“Fran, the truth is...and what I should have said?  Is that I didn’t plan for you. Kids can be a little like...good surprises…”

 

“You weren’t acting like I was a good surprise…” Fran points out.  “And you didn’t plan for Brandon. And we all know you love him the most of anybody.”

 

“Listen, Fran.  I am sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to Jenna.  Or anyone. It wasn’t kind. And it goes against the contract, right?  No mean words.”

 

Fran nods.

 

“So, I won’t say it anymore,” Stef promises.

 

“But will you  _ feel  _ it?” Fran asks seriously.  “Because if you feel like you never wanted me...I feel unwanted…”

 

“Francesca Rose.  I want you. So, so much,” Stef says.  “You know all of our team at the workshop was saying how lucky we are to get to be your moms?  Both of you guys?”

 

“Because they know that we’re good,” Fran says.

 

“And that we always try…” Mariana adds.

 

“That’s right,” Lena adds, wiping her eyes.  “And they helped us realize that, too. Now, as you’ve probably already figured out, we will make mistakes.  We have already. But we’ll work through them. If you need to go to Jesus’s or Dominique’s, you can always go. Anytime.  If you need to talk to your safe people, same goes. Anytime.”

 

“Okay,” Fran agrees.  “And nothing bad happens after?”

 

“Absolutely right,” Lena nods.

 

“But Mariana...I really would like to know how you’re doing…” Stef tries again.

 

“With what?” she asks.

 

“Well, with...with being overwhelmed today.  With going to your appointment. With counseling looming,” Lena lists.

 

“Stop,” Mariana objects.  “Stop listing. My brain hurts.”

 

“One item at a time.  That’s right. I’m sorry,” Lena apologizes.  “So...with needing the break room?”

 

“I’m...glad it’s there…  I wish I didn’t need it.” Mariana admits.

 

“Do you have any questions about it?” Lena asks.

 

“Do I have to clean it up?” Mariana checks.

 

“I did that.  And Mama or I will clean it up.  Because that room is an accommodation and you’re exhausted enough after the fact, yes?” Stef asks.

 

Mariana nods.

 

“What about your appointment?  Any feelings there?” Stef asks carefully.

 

“Side effects,” Mariana mutters.

 

“You’re worried about side-effects?” Lena asks.  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

 

“It’s fine,” Mariana shrugs.

 

“No, it’s not,” Lena insists gently.  “I’ll keep checking in with you about how you’re adjusting, and you let me know.  If the side-effects become too much for you, I can take you back to the doctor and we can get the dosage adjusted, or try something else.”

 

Mariana nods.

 

“And...one more thing…” Lena searches her brain.

 

“Counseling,” Stef offers.

 

“No,” Mariana says.

 

“Not ready to talk about it?” Stef guesses.

 

“Too...like...cold…” Mariana attempts to explain.

 

“What do you mean by cold?” Lena tries.

 

“Like...too much…  Too bare… Too many open places….” Mariana ventures.

 

“Ah,” Lena nods.  “Maybe you feel too exposed?  To raw to talk about it?”

 

Mariana nods back.

 

“Counseling is scary,” Fran explains.  “But we can do scary things together, right?  Like you told me when I didn’t want to go? I can wait in the waiting room for you.”

 

“That’s so sweet, Fran, but Mariana’s appointment’s during the week.  You’ll have school. But Mama or I would love to wait in the waiting room for you.” Stef offers.

 

“Whatever.  Whatever you want,” Mariana answers, not looking at them.

 

“We want to be there for you,” Stef says.  “We love you.”

 

“Great.  Can I go?” Mariana asks.

 

“You’re free to go whenever you need to,” Lena says.

 

“You okay?” Mari asks Fran.

 

“I’ll stay,” Pearl offers.  “She’ll be alright.”

 

“Yeah, I’ll be alright,” Fran echoes.

 

There’s silence while Mariana walks away.  Then, Lena offers:

 

“I think we were too hasty in taking away Halloween.”

 

“What do you mean?” Fran asks, barely glancing up from the table.  Her voice is wary.

 

“We mean, we’re sorry for taking that away.  And you can go Trick or Treating tomorrow. We’ll take you.” Stef offers.

 

“But...I don’t even have a costume.  It’s too late to get one. Everything’s all sold out.  And no offense, but you guys can’t sew…” Fran points out.

 

“I know we don’t have a sloth costume, but we can see what we do have around,” Stef offers.

 

“It’s okay,” Fran reassures them.  “I already basically got used to the idea of handing out candy.  Can I go, too? With Mariana?”

 

“You’re welcome to leave whenever you need to,” Lena tells her.

 

“Okay.  Thanks for coming, Pearl,” Fran says.

 

“Anytime, Fran,” Pearl says, before disconnecting from video chat.

 

“We love you, Fran,” Stef calls.

 

“Okay,” Fran says back.

 

\--

 

Fran walks by the break room and sees it open a crack.  Mariana’s inside, just lying on all the pillows and blankets, staring at the ceiling.  Fran knows by now to leave her to have her own space when she’s in there.

 

So, Fran goes to their room, instead.

 

She unplugs her phone from the charger and calls Dominique, Moms’ words about them being able to call their safe people anytime fresh in Fran’s mind.

 

“Hey.  Are you okay?” Dominique asks.

 

“Yeah, Moms talked to us.  It’s horrible news that they decided to be so nice, you wanna know why?” Fran asks in a rush.

 

“It’s okay if you wanna calm down a little bit,” Dominique urges.  She takes a long deep breath that sounds super relaxing.  

 

Fran pretty much has to copy it.  

 

She does.

 

“Why is it horrible news your Moms decided to be nice?” Dominique asks after a few seconds.

 

“Because!  They said I could go, but I don’t even have a costume.  I might as well not even go, right?” Fran asks, feeling super sad.

 

“Go where?  Trick-or-Treating?  They said you could go Trick-or-Treating at the eleventh hour when you don’t even have a costume…  That seriously sucks.” Dominique says, finally realizing what’s going on.

 

“I know.  That’s why I called you,” Fran huffs a sigh.  “Because you always validate my feelings.”  

 

“Could Mom and I stop by?” Dominique asks after a pause.  “To see if there’s any way we can help? We’re both pretty good with costumes on the fly…” 

 

“I guess…  If you want…  So I could see your costume early...” Fran ventures, a smile breaking out through the sadness.

 

“You really could.  I don’t want you to worry, okay?  We’ll figure something out. I promise.” Dominique says.

 

And Fran believes her.

 

Dominique always keeps her promises.

 

\--

 

“Levi?” Mariana asks softly, still cocooned in the blankets on the floor of the new break room.

 

She’d moved only enough to close the door, shutting out the bright hallway light and securing her privacy.

 

“Hey.  Are you okay?” he asks.

 

“I don’t wanna go…” she whispers.  “To the thing. The counseling. To talk to someone random about...that.”

 

“What’s worrying you?” Levi asks, totally tuned into her.

 

“They won’t get it.  They won’t get me. Levi, my own moms....  They need help communicating with me. What if...I’m like...in there...and the wrong thing comes out?  And it’s awful, and they think that’s what I meant to say?”

 

“I don’t know,” Levi admits.  “But I think...you know someone who does…  Rosa...right? You know I’d love to be able to help you with this.  I’d do anything for you, honestly, but...I’m not always the person who…  I’ll listen. But I might not have good advice.”

 

“But I called you.  Because you know what it’s like...to have to open up...maybe before you’re ready…” Mariana admits.

 

“I do,” Levi agrees, his voice soft.

 

“So...you, like...you’re alive?  And it’s okay? To talk about it?  I’m still so afraid...he’ll know...and, like...come after me…”

 

“I’m alive.  She didn’t kill me.  And it is okay to talk about.  Keeping it in? I think that’s what’s killing us.  Talking about it helps keep us alive. And I get that it’s scary.  And I so get the fear of him finding out. But he won’t. I don’t mean this in the harsh way it’s gonna sound, but...I mean...you gotta care about somebody to come after them, right?”

 

“Or see them as a possession…” Mariana mutters darkly.

 

“Right,” Levi lets out a breath.  “Listen, the chances of that happening?  Probability-wise? Are, like, slim to none.  That’s what I’m saying.”

 

“I’d prefer none,” Mariana sighs.

 

“Then, it’s none,” Levi says, certain.

 

“It is not,” Mariana laughs a little.  “You just said.”

 

“If it helps get you in the door, Mariana, there’s no chance in hell he knows or that he’ll come after you.  No one’s saying you have to name him, okay? This is not you making some official report. This is you healing.”

 

“Okay…” Mariana manages.  “I’m just...scared…”

 

“If you want me there with you, I can be there.  Say, if Jesus drives you?” Levi offers. “I can be on video chat or whatever.  For moral support. Not in the office, if you don’t want me there, but...on the drive there.”

 

“Levi, it’s...Monday morning.  You have work, right?” Mariana objects.

 

“When?” he asks.

 

“10 AM or something?” Mariana checks her calendar.

 

“Well, my first shift starts at 1 PM.  So I can get you there,” Levi insists.

 

“You don’t have to.” Mariana protests.

 

“No, I don’t.  I want to,” Levi says.  “Please let me.”

 

“Alright.  I mean, thank you.  You’re the best,” Mariana tells Levi softly.

 

“If you say so,” Levi agrees, reluctant.

 

“I do,” Mariana confirms, before hanging up.

 

\--

 

**Oct 30**

 

**Stef**

_Hi, Jesus.  How are you?  Is it a relief having your place back?_ _9:30 PM_

 

**Lena**

_Doing okay with Halloween approaching?_ _9:31 PM_

 

**Jesus**

_Mari and Fran are always welcome here.  Quiet is weird. Halloween is nerve-wracking.  IDK how to politely tell cute little kids that I don’t want them knocking at my door / I don’t want to see them._ _9:33 PM_

 

**Lena:**

_Maybe a sign?  You know, they put them up in yards during 4th of July to say someone w PTSD lives here.  Fireworks free zone._ _9:35 PM_

 

**Jesus:**

_I don’t exactly wanna advertise my dx._ _9:35 PM_

 

**Stef:**

_Right. Well, you wouldn’t have to do that.  You could just...say you won’t be home?_ _9:36 PM_

 

**Jesus:**

_It feels dishonest.  Because I will be home.  I just don’t dig the knocking, or the costumes.  Plus, wouldn’t I be like whatever the Halloween version of Scrooge McDuck at Christmas or something?_ _9:38 PM_

 

**Lena:**

_I think you mean Ebenezer Scrooge._ _9:39 PM_

 

**Stef:**

_And you’re in luck, because there’s no Halloween Scrooge so you don’t have to worry about that._ _9:40 PM_

 

**Jesus:**

_Anyway, Mari said you guys decided Fran could go Trick or Treating.  Is it okay if Mari comes over here then? She already said it’s cool with her.  I think I’d just feel better if she’s around._ _9:42 PM_

 

**Lena:**

_Sounds good.  Let us know if you guys need anything._ _9:43 PM_

 

**Jesus:**

_[thumbs up emoji] [sleeping emoji]_ _9:44 PM_

 

**Stef:**

_Love you._ _9:45 PM_

 

\--

 

_ NoSecretAnymor: I know it’s late and you’re, like, hibernating but I’m freaking out about counseling appt Mon. _

 

_ RosaMartinez: Hibernating implies sleep of some sort (at least I think.)  I haven’t been able to turn my brain off. No promises of fluency but I’ll help if I can.  What’s up? _

 

_ NoSecretAnymor: Basically aphasia.  How do I bring it up so the person knows I don’t always say what I mean? _

 

_ RosaMartinez: It helps me to write things down.  That way if it’s a really nervey time, you can just hand off your note (or show your phone) so they’ll be able to read that it’s a thing.  They’ll have the info. _

 

_ NoSecretAnymor: That’s a thing I do already. _

 

_ RosaMartinez: Look at that!  You’re ahead of the curve! Definitely ahead of where I was a year out.  (Maybe more notes too? What helps? What you need from her to facilitate communication.  What doesn’t.) _

 

_ NoSecretAnymor: THANK YOU.  I’ll let you sleep...or not… _

 

_ RosaMartinez: How are things at home? _

 

_ NoSecretAnymor: It’s whatever.  They’re trying. So that’s great, I guess.  But they shouldn’t have to try… (Also they made a break room.  My new fav place.) _

 

_ RosaMartinez: Okay, I’m impressed. _

 

_ NoSecretAnymor: Right?  Honestly, that’s meant more to me than any of their stilted attempts at conversation - unasked for hugs - etc. _

 

_ RosaMartinez: Uh-oh.  Are you okay? Were you able to address that w them? _

 

_ NoSecretAnymor: Told S to start keeping notes re: what not to do.  She looked like she was about to explode. But one of our safe ppl was also there.  Ofc S asked HER for advice on how to handle hug-gate, not me. _

 

_ RosaMartinez: Of course [annoyed emoji]  I’m sorry things aren’t better for you in all the ways you need them to be.  But so glad you have the break room. (And a little jealous. Pics sometime?) _

 

_ NoSecretAnymor: Definitely. [sleeping emoji]  Thank you again. _

 

_ RosaMartinez: Anytime. _

 

_NoSecretAnymor: [Attached pics of break room]_

 

_RosaMartinez: OMG gorgeous! [heart eyes emoji]_


	204. Halloween

Sunday is the longest day ever.  Plus, because it’s Halloween, that means Jesus isn’t going to want to come over or anything.  He likes costumes he expects, but not other ones he doesn’t.

 

Stef pulled out the giant container of old costumes from down in the basement and brought them upstairs for Fran to look through.  There’s her old Doc McStuffins costume from when she was four. A pirate costume. A blonde Hannah Montana wig. Some zombie clothes.  A baby pumpkin costume is in a plastic bag. An angel. A fairy outfit with a crown is wrapped in tissue paper. A baseball player uniform is in a paper bag.  There’s also a scary devil. A ninja turtle. At the very bottom, in a plastic case, there’s some fake glasses, blue jeans and a blue stripey shirt. A blue dress is with it.  They look super tiny.

 

“Whose are these?” Fran asks, "And why are they in a special box?”

 

“Oh my God,” Mariana gasps.  “They’re ours… Jesus’s and mine…  Our first Halloween here. We were six, and we were, like, obsessed with the twins from those Magic Treehouse books.  So, even though I wanted to be a princess - Belle, specifically -”

 

“ _ From Beauty and the Beast, _ ” Fran interjects.

 

“Right.  But...my dress ripped on the first day of school or something?  So I couldn’t have worn it anyway. And then, Jesus got it in his head that he wanted us to be Jack and Annie.  Those were the twins’ names.”

 

“So...he wanted to be twins...even though you guys were twins already?” Fran asks, confused.

 

“He wanted to be  _ other _ twins,” Mariana explains.  “And he wanted to wear glasses.  I don’t know why. I didn’t know you kept these…  We were so small,” she says to Stef.

 

“Yeah, well, call me sentimental,” Stef remarks.  “Do you remember how Jesus convinced you to go?” A small smile comes over her face, like she’s actually happy about whatever Jesus did.

 

“He...found my blue  _ Cinderella _ dress...and said Mama would braid my hair in pigtails…” Mariana remembers, a little smile on her face.

 

“Okay but...all the other costumes are out and wrinkled.  And some are packaged weird. And these ones are in a case.  Why?” Fran asks.

 

“Well...the ones that are packaged are the ones from each of your first Halloweens with us…” Lena shares, coming into the living room with them.

 

“But there’s only one pumpkin costume.” Fran points out.  

 

“Well, Brandon was a big baby...and you were small.  So you both fit into the same costume…” Stef remembers fondly.  “We thought it was kind of amazing.”

 

“ _ I _ don’t,” Fran scoffs.  “But you kept my Doc McStuffins costume,” Fran says, touching it gently.  “I can’t believe I was this small before.”

 

“You were smaller than that,” Lena says.

 

“I know,” Fran says.  “It’s fun looking at this stuff, but I really don’t think there’s a costume in here for me.  I’ll be okay handing out candy. Oh, but Dominique  _ did _ say she and her mom might be able to help.  So they might come over before it’s actually time to Trick-or-Treat.”

 

Mariana’s phone buzzes.  “Can I get dropped off? At Jesus’s?”  She shows her phone, and Jesus is saying he needs backup.  If there wasn’t a chance Dominique was coming to help with a costume, Fran would go, too.

 

“Sure, I can drop you off,” Lena offers.

 

“Are you fine?” Mariana asks, looking at Fran.

 

“Yeah...I’ll just wait for Dominique and Jaimie,” Francesca says, with a sad sigh.

 

“You can go, too, honey.  If you want,” Stef encourages.  “That way, Dominique and Jaimie will be right across the hall.”

 

“Oh, yay.  Then I can get Slothy back!” Fran cheers.

 

\--

 

Jesus is never ready for Halloween.  Like, literally never. Nothing makes it better.  Not even stocking up on all the candy he could on a recent shopping trip so that, like Fran said, if there were any hungry kids, they’d be able to eat, if they came by his place.

 

He’s more than a little surprised when both Mariana  _ and _ Fran show up.

 

“Whoa!  Look at all this candy!” Fran exclaims.  “This is amazing! Is this for us, for when we stay home and watch  _ Hocus Pocus _ ?” Fran asks.

 

“We’re not watching  _ Hocus Pocus _ .  Take your sloth,” Jesus tosses it to Fran, a little irritable.

 

“Why not?  Do you wanna watch  _ Halloweentown _ instead?” Fran asks.

 

“Maybe now’s not the right time to ask about movies…” Mariana encourages.

 

“Oh.  Sorry.  I forgot you hate Halloween.  I kind of do, too. Hey, do you know I had to share a baby Halloween pumpkin costume with Brandon.  He was a fat baby,” Fran offers smugly, cuddling her sloth.

 

“Can we just not talk about costumes and crap?” Jesus asks, desperate.  “I already had, like, three Trick or Treaters here. Two of them were teenagers, dressed like freaking bandits or something.  One was Simba. That last one was okay…” Jesus admits.

 

“Aw,” Mariana croons.  “Oh, hey, maybe you should tell Dominique you’re over here, so she knows.”

 

“Oh, right.  Can I knock on her door, like, for a joke and say Trick or Treat?” Fran asks.

 

“Uh, I’d say that’s cool, as long as you say who you are...so she knows,” Jesus decides.

 

“Aw, that’s no fun.” Fran says, but she walks across the hall.

 

She tries to do a funny voice when she knocks but she keeps giggling.  “Trick-or--- Trick-- Hahaha! I can’t do it! It’s Fran, and I’m over at Jesus’s!”

 

The door opens, and there’s Dominique, still not dressed in a costume.

 

“I thought I heard you giggling out here,” Dominique smiles and opens her arms.  “Come on in. I have a surprise for you.”

 

Fran darts back across the hall and sticks her head in Jesus’s apartment.  “I’m not giving anybody a break. Dominique invited me in. So that’s where I’ll be.  Just so you know.”

 

“Good job, buddy.  Way to tell safe adults where you’ll be,” Jesus says, even though he still looks nervous.

 

“I’m basically a pro at it now,” Fran continues and closes the door behind her.

 

\--

 

Francesca’s barely been gone five minutes when a knock sounds at Jesus’s door.  It’s still early afternoon. Trick-or-Treating has obviously started early this year.

 

Mariana watches, silent as Jesus makes his way over to the door and checks the peephole.  Stumbles back. “No...no, no, no… No way in hell…” he mutters, going pale.

 

“What?” Mariana asks. 

 

Since Jesus can’t answer, Mari stands and goes to the door, checking the peephole.  A kid dressed like the Grim Reaper stands out there.

 

“Do you want me to answer?” Mariana asks.  “Give him candy?”

 

“Yeah,” Jesus manages, eyes trained on the carpet.

 

She opens the door, and stands to block Jesus’s view (hopefully.) 

 

“Trick or Treat,” the kid inside the costume says.  It sounds like a preteen. Maybe older than Francesca.

 

Mariana gestures to the giant bowl of candy on a folding chair by the door.  “Help yourself,” she invites.

 

She doesn’t stop the kid from taking handfuls.  When they leave, Mariana brings the bowl over to Jesus.  Dumps it on the futon. He meets her eyes, knowing. She’s checking for scraps of paper.  For evidence that the kid is in trouble.

 

There’s none.

 

Mariana puts the candy back.  Sets the bowl back on the chair beside the door.

 

“It wasn’t you,” Mariana reassures.  “That kid’s safe.”

 

“Then why the hell were they dressed like that...if they didn’t have to be?” Jesus manages.

 

“Sometimes kids like being scared, I guess?  For non-traumatized kids, apparently, it can be fun…” Mariana ventures.  “That kid? Wasn’t forced.”

 

“Okay,” Jesus manages, through Dudley licking his face.  

 

“Okay,” Mariana echoes.

 

“I’m glad you were here,” Jesus says, holding Mariana’s hand tightly.

 

\--

 

Dominique can’t wait for the big reveal.  She walks Francesca to the costume room door and eases it open.  “Now look...to your left...hanging on the hanger on the closet door…Just ignore the cat in the costume room chair...” she jokes, as Roberta regards the proceedings like she’s the queen of it all.

 

“What...is this?” Francesca asks, slowly, walking over to touch gingerly.

 

Dominique watches as she takes it all in.  The plain white top and brown leggings that Dominique asked Jesus about months ago.  The swath of brown fur attached to the top, over both shoulders. The furry wrist cuffs and mask, with unmistakable sloth eyes.  Sloth socks and a sloth headband complete the look.

 

“No way,” Fran says, turning back to Dominique, a huge smile splitting her face.  “No. Way.” Fran walks to her, and wraps her arms around Dominique, hard. “You made me this?”

 

“I did,” Dominique said.  “I started back when you first said you wanted to be a--”

 

“You made me this?” Fran asks again, her voice breaking.  She starts to cry. 

 

“Babe.  Yes, I made you this.  Is it okay?” Dominique asks.

 

“Yes,” Fran sobs.

 

“Are you just really happy?” Dominique guesses, hopeful.

 

“Yes,” Fran says again.  “Now I can go Trick or Treating for real…”

 

“Now, you can go Trick-or-Treating, for real,” Dominique echoes, kissing Fran on the head.  “I love you. You know that, right?”

 

“Yes,” Fran gasps, leftover tears still on her face.

 

“So...I still have to put my costume on...and it might take a while.  You wanna put yours on, and then we’ll surprise each other?” Dominique asks, a playful grin on her face.  “Or do you think you’ll need some help?”

 

“No.  All this looks like I can do it.  No buttons. Lots of elastic. Good job at making this accessible!” she calls.

 

“Of course,” Dominique answers.

 

\--

 

It takes Fran years to change into her costume.  Righty (both her leg and her arm) are all tense from being emotional.)  Plus, she keeps getting distracted by the softness of everything.

 

“Hey, Dominique?” Fran calls.

 

“Hey, Fran,” Dominique calls back.

 

“Can I go Trick-or-Treating with you and Jaimie?” she asks.

 

“Well, I was hoping.  But you probably wanna let your moms know your plans,” Dominique suggests.

 

Fran sighs.  She calls them right then to ask, and amazingly, they say okay.  Just, stay with Dominique and/or her mom. No going off by herself.  But Fran knows that already.

 

“Okay.  Are you ready?” Dominique calls.

 

“Yes!  I mean, I think so!  I hope I didn’t put any of this on wrong,” Fran worries.  She clasps Slothy around her arm as a last minute decoration.  He can be her baby, and extra proof, in case it isn’t super obvious Fran’s a sloth.

 

“If you did, I can help,” Dominique reassures.

 

“Okay.  I’m coming out....” Fran warns, opening the door.  She takes one look at Dominique and gasps.  

 

“ _ You’re Shuri _ ?!” Fran shrieks, so excited she can’t even stand it.  “From _ Black Panther _ ?  That Shuri?”

 

“I am,” Dominique nods.  She has the burlap skirt.  Paint on her face. A blue leotard thing and even armbands and armor.  It’s the best thing Fran’s ever seen...except for her own sloth costume.

 

“You look so powerful.  Like you win all the battles,” Fran says, admiring Dominique.

 

“Well, thank you.  You look like the best sloth ever.  You wanna go show Jesus and Mariana?” Dominique asks.

 

“Yes!” Fran exclaims.

 

“Okay.  We should probably try to calm down a little bit first, and maybe put your mask up on your head, so Jesus can see it’s you.”

 

“Oh.  Good idea,” Fran nods, and takes some deep breaths.  “P.S. Moms said I could go with you guys. As long as I stayed with you and didn’t go off by myself.  Which, I won’t.”

 

Just then, a knock sounds at the door.

 

\--

 

“Babe, are you sure this is a good idea?” Michael worries.  “Because I don’t wanna crash Mom and Daughter time…”

 

“Oh, please,” Jaimie scoffs with a smile.  “You know it’s your dream to be in on Mom and Daughter time.  So let’s call it Family Time. I think she’ll love this, Michael.”

 

“Hey, are you ready to…   _ Hey _ …” Dominique takes in both parents, huge smile on her face.  “Fran, come here. We got Maleficent, and a Ghostbuster,” Dominique says, appreciatively.

 

“Oh, like on  _ Stranger Things _ ,” Fran realizes, staring at Michael.

 

“Okay, ouch.  But you’re an adorable sloth, Francesca,” Michael tells her.  “And you...are most definitely Shuri,” he nods at Dominique. “You made both of these?” he asks, impressed.

 

“I did,” Dominique agrees, looking a bit uncomfortable.

 

“They’re great, Dom.  You did a great job on them,” Michael says, sincerely.

 

“Thanks, Dad,” Dominique says, able to look him straight in the eye now, as Shuri.  He digs this confidence.

 

“You really did,” Mom adds.  

 

“Look!  Dudley found Slothy behind the couch at Jesus’s, so now he’s part of my costume!” Fran interjects.

 

“That’s great,” Michael says, because it really does add to the overall sloth vibe she’s got going on.

 

“Well...Dad had to get his Ghostbuster outfit from the store,” Jaimie interjects.  “We forgive him, though, right?”

 

Dominique and Fran look at each other, and chorus, “Yeah, we forgive him.”

 

“Please.  Jaim. It’s not an outfit.  Winston Zeddemore wears a uniform.  Everyone knows that.” Michael corrects.

 

“Who’s Winston Zeddemore?” Fran asks.  “And what even  _ is  _ a Ghostbuster?”

 

“It means I’m here to protect y’all from ghosts, with my Proton Pack!” Michael says, turning around to show it off.

 

“It doesn’t look very big,” Fran says, skeptical.

 

“Well, ghosts aren’t either,” Michael reasons.

 

“Oh,” Fran nods.

 

\--

 

They’re heading down the hall, when Dominique stops, remembering.

 

“We were actually gonna stop by Jesus’s and show him and Mariana our costumes before we left.” Dominique says.

 

“Well, why don’t we make Jesus’s our last stop?  Give him some time to get used to the idea of being descended upon,” Jaimie suggests.

 

“Good idea.  I’ll let him know Dad’s here, and Fran’s in costume, too,” Dominique says.

 

“Oh, make sure to tell Jesus and Mariana I’m going Trick or Treating with you, so they don’t think I’m lost or something,” Fran insists.

 

“Of course.  There we go. Text sent...and he replied,” Dominique says, showing Fran:

 

**Oct 31:**

 

**Dominique:**

_Fran’s coming Trick or Treating with me, Mom and Dad.  We’ll be back in an hour or so. Stef and Lena said Fran could go with us.  Planning to stop by around 7-ish to show you my costume. Dad’s a ghostbuster and Mom’s Maleficent.  Fran’s in costume, too, but she’ll put her mask up so you can see her._ _5:58 PM_

 

**Jesus:**

_Sounds good.  Thanks for the heads up._ _5:58 PM_

 

“Jesus hates Halloween,” Fran pipes up.  “But he still wants us to like it. That’s nice, right?”

 

“It is,” Mom says.

 

How will I keep up going to all the houses?” Fran wonders.

 

“Well, I was thinking, we’d drive to our neighborhood,” Dad offers.  “And then, one of us can carry you, if you’re cool with that.”

 

“But won’t I look weird being carried?  Aren’t I too big?” Fran asks, worried.

 

“But…” Dominique hesitates.  “ _ Sloths _ don’t look weird being carried…”

 

“And you are just the right size.  Any one of us would be happy to carry you.” Mom reassures.

 

Dominique watches as Fran’s entire face relaxes into the sweetest smile.


	205. Turning Page

“Wait.  How am I gonna get candy if I’m being carried?” Fran worries, in Michael’s car, on their way to their neighborhood.  “I didn’t even bring a bucket… Oh, no…”

 

“Hey, but lucky for us…” Dominique points out.  “Mom and Dad are on the case. And we’ve got...buckets!” she says, reaching down and picking up two.  One is white with a haunted house and bats. One is orange with a duck dressed up in a pumpkin patch.

 

“Wow…  Where did you get these?” Fran asks, impressed.

 

“These...were from Dom’s first Halloween in Houston.  Well, technically, her second,” Michael shares, from the passenger seat.

 

Dominique smiles, like she’s heard the story a billion times.  

 

“You had just turned one. And Grandma Nora made you a bee costume.  And you were the sweetest bee. In fact, that’s how you announced yourself at every house:  ‘ _ Bee _ !’”

 

“Oh, my God.  How embarrassing,” Dominique says.

 

“Wait.  Really?” Michael asks.

 

“No, I love it.  Keep going. I told everybody I was a bee.  Then, what?” Dominique smiles.

 

“Well...you’d never been Trick-or-Treating, obviously.  So, we’d ring the bell and you’d…” Michael starts laughing.

 

Fran laughs, too.  “What?”

 

“Walk...into the houses…” Michael manages.  “Like we were there to visit. Didn’t care about the candy.  Just walked in and made yourself at home wherever we went. Said hi to everybody.”

 

“So, I was a  _ busy _ bee,” Dominique clarifies, with a bigger smile.

 

“You were,” Michael nods.

 

“They had those buckets at McDonald’s that year.  And we decided to get both. You know, in case one got lost,” Jaimie explains.  “We always just bring both, out of habit now.”

 

“Good habit,” Fran observes.

 

Finally, it’s time to get out of the car, and Fran and Dom hold hands and go up to the first house together.  Jaimie and Michael, too.

 

“Can I ring the doorbell?” Fran asks.

 

“Sure,” Dominique agrees.

 

She does, and someone answers.  They all say “Trick or Treat” and they all get some candy.  The lady even says she likes their costumes.

 

By the second house, Fran’s ready to be carried.  Jaimie offers, but she looks a little scary in her evil queen costume so Michael does, instead.

 

At the next house, Dominique rings the doorbell, and they get more candy there.  The lady says how nice it is they’re Trick or Treating as a family. For once, Fran feels like she fits right in.  Like this is the family she should have always been born into.

 

But she doesn’t say anything, because Dominique is quiet. Like she gets when she needs a break from Fran sometimes.  Because of missing her baby that Fran reminds her of.

 

“You can ring all the doorbells if you want,” Fran offers.

 

“No, don’t be silly.  Get down here. We share, right?” Dominique asks.

 

Fran cups a hand to whisper in Dom’s ear.  “Yes, but I don’t want to make you sad. Because that lady said we were all family.”

 

“You _ are _ my family, babe,” Dominique whispers, strong like Shuri.  “She’s my family, too, and I’ll always miss her. But you’re family that we chose.  And you’re the family that’s here now. Who I get to spend Halloween with. And I love that.”

 

“I love  _ you _ ,” Fran decides.  “Thank you for my costume again.  And for taking me with you.”

 

Finally, the door opens and it’s a man and a woman in scary devil costumes.  Fran jumps and Dominique picks her up.

 

It’s better when the devils start talking about dead man’s toes and chocolate-covered fingers of men named Clark.

 

“They watched it!” Fran whispers.  “They watched  _ Hocus Pocus _ !”

 

Jaimie and Michael are behind them saying all the lines, too.

 

They go to as many houses as they can in an hour.  Fran gets more candy than she can ever eat, but the Williamses let her keep it all.

 

Then, they drive back to Gateway together.

 

“Can we still show Jesus and Mariana our costumes?” Fran asks.  

 

“We sure can.  Let me just...call...and give them a heads up,” Michael says from the elevator.

 

“Babe, don’t forget to put your mask up,” Dominique reminds Fran.

 

“Oh yeah.  Thanks,” Fran says, sliding it up onto her head.

 

\--

 

Jesus turns off The Cooking Channel and tries to calm down.  “Okay, so… They’re coming.”

 

“They’re coming,” Mariana answers just as a knock sounds at the door.

 

“They’re here,” Jesus says, swallowing.

 

“Jesus…  Hey. Hold on,” she calls to the group outside the door.  “Call Levi and Pearl. They wanted to see Dominique’s costume.”

 

“Oh, right,” Jesus says, letting out a breath.  He’s relieved to have something else to focus on.  He hits Facebook video chat and calls Pearl, figuring Levi must be around.

 

“Hey,” Jesus greets.

 

“Oh gosh.  Hi. Levi! Come on!  It’s time for the big reveal!” Pearl calls.

 

Levi actually comes in with a bowl of popcorn and sodas.

 

“Dudes.  This is not a show,” Jesus scoffs, but a smile threatens anyway.  “Dominique, Jaimie and Michael are here. Fran’s with them. We know you wanted to see Dom’s costume and Fran apparently found one, too, at the last second.” Jesus explains.

 

“Oh, it’s  _ so _ a show…” Levi says back, grinning.  “My favorite one ever:  _ Best Friends in the World: The Halloween Episode _ .”

 

“You are so corny…” Pearl remarks.

 

“Uh, excuse me?” Fran calls from the hall.  “Can we come in?”

 

\--

 

“It’s so quiet around here again,’ Lena observes.

 

“I know.  You’d think I’d have gotten used to it, but really, I just love the hustle and bustle.  This just seems...lonely…” Stef admits, looking at the box of old Halloween costumes. No kids at home to even wear them.

 

“How do you think it’s going?” Lena asks.  “With Mariana and Fran?”

 

“About as well as can be expected, I guess…” Stef admits.  “I know I’m not doing all that hot.”

 

“On the contrary…” Lena says quietly, leaning in to kiss her.  “Admitting you’re wrong and apologizing are  _ very _ hot.”

 

“Hmm…  Really?” Stef asks, smiling.

 

“Oh, definitely,” Lena nods, about ready to kiss some more.  The doorbell ringing cuts everything short, and Lena goes to the door to hand out candy.  (She loves seeing all the little kids in costume.)

 

By the time she comes back, Stef asks, “So…  How long do you think we ought to wait before giving Hope and Sylvan a call?  They promised to check in, but they have six kids actually at home. And if we’re the ones who are supposed to be accountable to them, maybe the ball is in our court?”

 

“Maybe you’re right…” Lena answers, coming back and joining Stef on the couch.  “It  _ is _ Halloween night, though, so they might be busy.”

 

“So, we leave them a message,” Stef decides, clicking on Facebook video for the first time ever and then finding Hope’s name.

 

“Stef and Lena!  Hey! Glad you called!” Hope greets, with a smile.

 

In the background, they can see Sylvan, in a Frankenstein mask, walking slowly through the house, moaning.  A pair of child’s eyes peer out from under a table. A giggle can be heard. Two boys in costume rush from one room to the other, hoping not to be seen (or to jump on Frankenstein...who can really tell.)  The two oldest appear - an astronaut and a queen. The astronaut says plainly, “Mom, please tell Dad to take off his mask when he drives us tonight.”

 

“Honey.  Baylee and Dembe would like to be driven to school by their human father,” Hope calls out.  “Not by Frankenstein.”

 

Sylvan can be seen, groaning as he makes his way comically into the kitchen.  His two boys, dressed as Wolverine and a lizard, are hanging off of him.

 

“Hey.  Aiden. Sanyu.  Please, get off of Daddy.  He has places to go,” Hope says.

 

“Take us with you!” one of the youngest begs.  She’s dressed as a zombie.

 

“And me!”  The smallest crawls out from under the table, dressed in brown armor.  “Get me on Toothless!”

 

“Mia and Achen, we are going to wait here with your brothers, and then we’ll go Trick or Treating together.  Can you give me five minutes to talk to these other moms, please.”

 

“Hi, other moms!  I’m not really a zombie, see?  I’m a child,” Mia-or-Achen says and Stef melts a little.

 

“I see that,” Lena says.

 

“Are you guys Filipino-ish?” the smallest asks.

 

“We aren’t,” Lena tells her.

 

“Oh.  I am,” she says.

 

“Okay.  Please go play with your brothers for two seconds!” Hope says.  

 

“Yay!  Sanyu! Did you hear?  We’re leaving in two seconds!” one of the girls says to one of the boys in the next room.

 

“I’m sorry.  It’s a big night around here,” she says.  “A lot going on. But how are you guys doing?”

 

“I’ve got two with me,” Sylvan calls.  Four are in the living room. You guys stay in the house with Mom until I come back.  No leaving without a grownup. Aiden. You got me?”

 

“Yes…  Why is it always me?” Aiden can be heard asking.

 

“It’s for all of you,” Sylvan corrects.  (But Stef would bet money that Aiden was the kid who went off to a friend’s house unaccompanied.)

 

“Things are okay,” Lena manages.  “It’s different.”

 

“We’re making a lot of mistakes.  I already hugged Mariana without asking her first...and asked someone else advice instead of her...and was rude to her when I did ask her…  And this was all just today.”

 

“The first day can be brutal,” Hope sympathizes.  “But you can handle it. You’re their mom. So you have to.  It’s in the job description. How’d you follow up?”

 

“I...pulled out some of her answers from the workshop.  Apologized to her. I asked her advice and I did what she needed me to do,” Stef passes along.

 

“And if I were to call Mariana to confirm this?  Would she say the same? Would you say you communicated all of this effectively to her?” Hope asks.

 

There’s an off-putting lizard hiss from the other room and a shriek.

 

“Aiden’s making his lizard confused!” one of the girls calls.

 

“Aiden.  Please stop confusing your lizard.  Everybody hang tight. Stay in the living room.  Daddy should be back any minute and we can go together.”

 

“I think...except for the answers from the workshop.  I didn’t mention those,” Stef realizes.

 

“Maybe make sure and show her you have those posted somewhere.  Hey, how’d the break room go over?”

 

“They both seem to like it,” Lena says, relieved.  “They’re with Jesus. Well, Mariana is. Fran’s Trick-or-Treating with her friend.”

 

“That’s great to hear,” Hope says, just as moaning and banging can be heard on their front door.  

 

“It’s Frankenstein!” all the kids shout.  “Daddy’s back!”

 

“Daddy’s back.  Gotta go. But stay in touch, please.  You’re doing great. Don’t give up.”

 

“Thanks, Hope.  Take care,” Stef says, and hangs up.

 

“Sweet kids,” Stef remarks, leaning back on the couch.

 

“But...did they say lizard?” Lena asks, looking a little green.

 

“Yeah.  I’m glad none of ours went through that stage…” Stef smiles ruefully.

 

“Glad they’re all safe this Halloween…” Lena muses.

 

“You can say that again,” Stef agrees.

 

\--

 

Finally, Jesus says Mariana can open the door.  She does, without really looking, and then goes back to sit down so she can really take them in.

 

“Holy…” Pearl gasps from Jesus’s tablet.  “You guys all look incredible!”

 

Mariana finally looks up.  Francesca is in the world’s cutest homemade sloth costume, with Slothy attached to her arm.  She’s beaming from Dominique’s arms. And Dominique is obviously Shuri. That skirt’s the thing that was a bitch to iron.  Burlap. But it seems to be working fine now. Mari’s seen Jaimie as Maleficent before, but Michael as a Ghostbuster is pretty entertaining.

 

She looks to Jesus, hoping he’s okay.  He’s sitting very still on the couch just taking all of them in.

 

“It’s us, Jesus,” Fran says.  “I even moved my mask, so you could see.”

 

“Yeah, I do see.  Did… Dominique… You made this for her?” he asks, impressed.

 

“I did,” she confirms.

 

“It’s really good,” Jesus nods, approving.

 

“And yours,” Levi adds.  “Dominique, yours is...that’s everything right there.  That’s like...who you were born to be right there. That’s like...personification of your inner strength.”

 

“That’s what I said,” Fran smiles.  “Well, not exactly. I said it looks like she wins all the battles.”

 

“And we can’t leave out Jaimie and Michael,” Pearl adds.  “Very cool, you two. Michael, I had you pegged more as an Egon, but Winston definitely works.”

 

“Jaimie?” Levi asks.

 

“Yeah, Levi?” she answers, totally tuned in to him.  

 

“You’re…  You look very majestic,” he says.

 

“Thank you.  Did you hear that, honey?  I’m majestic,” Jaimie smiles, elbowing Michael.

 

“I did hear that.  And Levi, you are so right.  I think it’s the horns.” Michael winks.

 

Mariana’s head is spinning with all the talking and everything to take in all at once.  Her inner-scale almost tips to overloaded when Fran turns her candy bucket upside down on Jesus’s floor.

 

“Oh...I almost forgot…” she says and begins picking through her candy.  Really slowly.

 

“Moms just texted,” Mariana says, relieved from the vaguely anxious feeling she has at seeing all Fran’s candy on the floor.  “We gotta get back soon to check in with them. 7:30.”

 

“Oh, right.  I almost forgot.  I’m on duty tonight, right?” Jesus asks.

 

Mariana nods.

 

“But wait.  You need these,” Fran says cryptically.  “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

 

Mariana does, grateful for the excuse to shut out some sensory input.  She trusts Fran not to scare them on Halloween. She knows better by now.

 

The moment she feels plastic crinkle in her hand, Mariana opens her eyes.  She’s holding a package of Reese’s Pieces candy. Jesus has a tiny box of Junior Mints.

 

“Because they’re your safe words, right?” Fran asks softly.  “And this is a scary day.”

 

“I love you, Fran.  Thank you. That was so thoughtful,” Jesus says, giving her a hug.  Mariana joins in, whispering her thanks.  

 

(How could she have even known this detail of their life?  Had Mariana told her? She must have. But her brain is so foggy these days, so full of appointments and dread and depression.  It makes this act that much more meaningful.)

 

“Love you,” Mariana says.  “Thank you.”  

 

(Because, God, she needs safety right now.  Tangible safety. And Junior Mints  _ had _ brought Jesus home just before Halloween, ten years before.)

 

“You’re welcome,” Fran says.

 

“Buddy…  Can I… Can I see what your mask looks like?  With the rest of your costume?” Jesus asks.

 

“Okay!” Fran answers.  “Pearl and Levi, can you guys see me?”

 

“We can,” Pearl and Levi chorus.

 

“Okay, I’m going to pull it down.  It’s only an eye mask so you’ll still be able to see my nose and my smile,” Fran explains.  “One. Two. Three.”

 

The mask completes the costume, really.

 

“That’s amazing, Fran.  I love it,” Pearl praises.

 

“I do, too, buddy.  It’s really great,” Jesus tells her.

 

“It’s perfect,” Mariana breathes.

 

And it is.  It’s a perfect way to spend a difficult day:

 

Surrounded by friends.

 

Safety.

 

And love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part VII


End file.
